Page 8 of Moonlit Temptation

Brother’s best friend.

You’re like a little sister to him.

That’s why he’s here.

Nothing more.

Saint raised a brow when I did nothing but stare at him.

“So.” He dragged out the word. “London.”

“London.” I nodded, taking a sip for courage. To settle the nerves. I took another to be safe. My face contorted with disgust. It really was bad wine.

“What do you plan on doing while you’re here?”

I shrugged, causing a look of disappointment to cross Saint’s face.

“So you’re telling me” —he dug his elbows into the table, leaning closer to me with disbelief— “you flew all this way with no idea what to do. At all?”

“Archer was supposed to be here,” I told him. “He knows London better than I do. I had been relying on him to show me around.”

Admitting that aloud made me feel helpless. Like I let other people make decisions for me when that was the opposite of my personality.

“Archer bailed? I thought he was just coming on a later flight when he told me something held him up.” Saint’s face was getting a workout in different expressions. Disappointment to disbelief to now shock.

“Yeah, something did come up. Our dad.”

Saint’s entire expression fell into something only described as unpleasant. “Explain.”

“Nothing much to explain.” My eyes dropped to the table and I forced them back to his face. His brutal, beautiful face. “Dad called and he went running. The same song, to the same dance they’ve always done.”

Saint mumbled something under his breath with a shake of his head. “That’s fucked up, Madelayne.”

I shrugged again, the gesture heavy on my shoulders. “Not like it hasn’t happened before.”

“Doesn’t mean it should keep happening,” he growled. “I fucking hate how they always do this to you. I swear sometimes your dad makes me want to hit him over the head with a cast iron skillet. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so calloused to you.”

“Or give him a concussion.” I tried to joke, but my eyes were wide with the ferocity of Saint’s words. He was really angry over this. So much so there wasn’t even a crack in his ruthless expression at my words.

He just repeated, “Or a concussion,” as if that was a great consolation prize.

An electric thrill shot down my spine.

Maybe it made me a bad person, but it was nice to finally have someone be on my side. To see how my father treated me and see it for what it was. Wrong.

Still, I felt this ingrained need to defend Archer, even if I was still pissed at him.

“Who’s going to say no to the mayor of Honeycutt?”

“I did.” When I raised my brow in question, he elaborated. “He asked me to be at the banquet tonight, telling me I should fly home early. I told him I couldn’t.”

“Because business?” Great. Even Saint knew about the event while I was left in the dark. It didn’t surprise me, but the hurt was there all the same.

“Among other things.” He shifted in his seat.

“How’d he take hearing no?” It wasn’t a word my father heard often.

“He was annoyed, but he’ll get over it.”

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