Page 35 of Secrets Unveiled

“Thank you for meeting me,” Dante says, pulling out his chair and taking a seat opposite of me.

“What do you have to tell me?” I get right to the point. One, because I hadn’t told anyone where I was going and two, I am dying to know what the hell is going on. He waves to the waiter and orders a black coffee before settling his eyes on me.

“Sage, the reason I was at the club that night we met was because I knew you’d be there.” I furrow my eyebrows. Was he following me?

“For the past seven years, I’ve been assigned to your father’s case in hopes of taking down the higher-ups in this town who think since they have power, they can do whatever the hell they want.”

“Are you talking about the mayor?” The look of shock that Dante gives me tells me he didn’t think I knew about my father’s affair. Hell, I hadn’t known until last night.

“Frankie told me.” He closes his eyes for a long while before continuing. He leans closer towards me, and his voice is a mere whisper.

“I wanted to meet with you to inform you that I have been watching you and your brother since the fire, due to many tips that your lives may be in danger as well. The moment Frankie was informed that the pair of you may be targeted next, he stopped all communication with me. I thought that was suspicious on its own because why would he not want to be involved in figuring out this whole mess with your family.”

The look on my face must show the same confusion because I can’t find the words to ask or explain or even speak, for that matter. So much information is being thrown at me so fast, from last night to now. I can’t believe this is my own life and not a movie plot.

“Why did you make yourself known now, after all these years?” I ask. Why target me in the club, or invite me to the art show, or paint a fucking picture of me to showcase at the exhibit? Why now?

“Your uncle had been radio silent for the last six years, but recently, with the help of Damien before his untimely demise…” I look away from him for the quickest moment, unable to hold his gaze. “He informed me that a man he was in contact with wanted him to accompany him on a job that would involve a very high-up motorcycle club. Initially, he didn’t want to do it. He said it felt like a suicide mission, but I encouraged him to move forward. That way, when I made contact with you, it didn’t look too suspicious.” Dante pauses for a moment, taking a long sip of his coffee. His eyes are heavy and dark shadows appear below his eyes. He is tired and rundown by the looks of it. I’d just seen him last night, yet he looks like he aged ten years over night.

“What I’m getting at is, your uncle is finally coming out of the wood works after six years of no activity, and the first thing I hear of is a job that would end the biggest motorcycle club’s existence by eliminating you and your brother. I took drastic action and inserted myself into your life as quickly as I could, hoping that your uncle would fear that if I was around, you and Saxon couldn’t be touched. We were still working behind the scenes and hoping to get more answers on this job that Damien had coming up, but then he disappeared, and I no longer had my connection.”

I inhale a deep breath, not understanding. If this is all true, why does my uncle want to hurt or eliminate me and Saxon? We’re family. I silently curse my brother and Saint for killing Damien. “What do I do now?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t do or say anything, Sage. I will continue to be in contact with you when I know more information. In the meantime, stay with your brother and Saint. I know they can protect you, even though their ways are less than legal. They can keep you safe. I’ll message you soon.” With that, he leaves me sitting in the café, alone and more confused than I’ve ever been. I need a nap.

I can’t sleep after learning everything about Frankie from my secret meet up with Dante. My chest hurt with thoughts that my father was keeping secrets from Saxon and me. My father told us everything, or at least, I thought he did. Knowing that he was having a secret relationship with a married woman feels like a betrayal. Not that my father didn’t deserve love or a companion, but with a married woman—the fucking mayor’s wife, of all people?

Love is funny. You can’t pick who your heart will love, but it’s dangerous when it could be someone who is already spoken for. Love is painful, yet peaceful, dangerous, yet fearless. Did my father know the dangers of falling in love with Gloria? Probably. Why else would he have kept such a secret? Love can be our most desired and most troubling emotion, yet it’s still something we all crave and want more than anything. At least, I do.

The longer I sit in the library thinking about it, the more I realize my father and I are not so different. He fell for a woman who was spoken for—unavailable. And here I am, falling for someone I know would cause problems between my brother and me. Still, I can’t get the image of Saint out of my head. The feeling of his calloused hands against my skin. The taste of his kiss. The presence of him in the room, a dark shadowy pressure, squeezing against my skin and igniting the dormant butterflies in my stomach. I crave his scent, his voice, his touch—fuck—I want him to tell me I am his good girl. I’ve never had a kink for something like praise, but when Saint says them, it makes me feral for him.

“May I come in?” I startle and drop my copy of Romeo and Juliet. I fumble for my book where it now lies face down on the floor.

“Yes, of course,” I say as I lean over and retrieve my book. A sudden dark, palpable weight follows behind him as he enters the room, and it presses against my lungs. Suddenly, it’s too hot in here. I need to take my blanket off my lap. I watch as he walks into the library, freshly showered, as was I, and the scent of clean soap fills my nose. Crossing the room, he takes the chair across from me, spreading his legs wide and placing his hands on the arms of the chair before asking me, “What are you reading?” I look down at my book. Why, I’m not sure. I know what I’m reading.

“Romeo and Juliet.” My voice comes out a little shaky, and I can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed.

“Ah, a forbidden romance. Sadly, it ends in tragedy, am I right?” Saint never reads; I am taken aback at how he knows. “Is that one of your favorites? By Shakespeare, I mean.”

“I think it is.” My voice is small as I turn the book over in my hand again and again. I’ve never thought about it before, but I guess I do gravitate towards this specific love story. We both fall silent, the grandfather clock in the corner the only noise breaking the painful silence. I finally look up at Saint, his silvery eyes burning into my skin. His hair is still a bit wet, and his lips are slightly parted. He is shirtless, and maybe this is what is making me feel off balance because all I want to do is run my hands down his chest and follow the trail of hair that dips below his sweatpants. Now that I know what’s beneath the clothing, I want more of it. I’ve begun to crave it.

“Do you like what you see, baby?” His voice is sultry and caresses me like velvet.

“I think I do.” Where the hell did that come from, Sage? I swallow, the room suddenly feeling so small.

“You think?”

“Maybe I need to see more to make up my mind completely.” The smile that pulls the corner of his mouth up has my heart racing and core throbbing. But when he licks his bottom lip, I crumble.

“Is Saxon back yet?” I pray he isn’t, as bad as that sounds, but all my body wants right now is Saint. His only response is a shake of his head.

“He went to Sky’s, so that means it’s just you and me tonight.” Just what I want.

“So, what do you have in mind?” I’m playing with him; it’s evident by the devilish smile he keeps giving me. I need more.

“I have a few things I could think of, however, all my ideas require you to be a lot less clothed.” Now it’s my turn to smile. I stand from my chair, the rest of the blanket collecting at my feet. Grabbing the hem of my tank top, I pull it over my head, baring my chest to him, as I toss my shirt to the side.

“Like this?” I say in a small voice.

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