Page 11 of Secrets Unveiled

“Right,” he responds when he realizes I’m not going to shake his hand. The tension between us is thick, and I can feel Sage’s eye burning holes into my face, but I don’t care if she’s mad.

“How do you two know each other?” Sax asks. But before anyone can respond, Sage grabs the man by the arm and turns him away from us.

“Jesus Christ. Can you two please go away? We are just talking. Go and enjoy your night.” She turns away from us, but Saxon reaches out his hand, grabbing her by the upper arm, halting her in her tracks.

“You’re coming home with us, understood?” Sax whispers to her. She yanks her arm from his grasp without answering. She gives him a nod and continues following Dante to a vacant table across the room. The pair of us watch them as they slid into the booth, sitting closer than I’d like, and continue their conversation.

“Keep an eye on her, yeah?” Saxon says to me before turning his back to his sister and making his way back to the bar where Sky is held up. I don’t need to respond, nor does he need me to answer. We both know I’ll keep an eye on her, both eyes, to be exact. All fucking night.

SAGE

Watching, he’s always watching me. Never letting me get too far away or out of his line of sight. Saint is by far the biggest cock block I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. Dante and I are sitting in our booth, chatting about his work as an artist and owner of his own gallery, while I speak about my studies, which happen to be art and a minor in classical literature. Apart from our love of the visual arts, literature, and music, we also share a passion for motorcycles. The similarities between us make talking easy and enjoyable. Dante is a breath of fresh air and the complete contrast to Seb. I was genuinely having the best time getting to know him, and he seemed like he was enjoying himself too.

However, the heat of his gaze is constantly burning my skin. I know he’s watching; he’s always watching me. No thanks to Saxon, telling him to babysit me while he took care of whatever fuck up he had going on with Sky.

“I have a show coming up this following week. You should come.” Dante’s face is centimeters from mine as he extends his invitation, and his scent quickly invades my senses. He smells of fresh linen but also a musky cedar that has me inhaling deeply. He pulls away from me to get my response, and I give him a smile.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I’d love to come,” I say as I brush my hair behind my ear. Dante’s eyes are on my face, his lips curling into a smile that has my stomach fluttering. I can’t help myself; I look over at the bar, and Saint’s eyes meet mine in a clash of fury as he sips his beer. Once done, he raises an eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to a stare off. This man is worse than my overprotective brother, if that’s even possible.

“Dante, we’re out. We need to go.” A stocky man pulls my attention from Saint as he stands beside Dante. He is staring down at his phone, typing away. Once he’s done, he pockets his phone and glares over at the bar. I follow his line of sight and notice Sky holding his gaze as well. A look of defiance, but also a hint of fear, is etched across her beautiful face. I suddenly feel uneasy and watch as Sky breaks eye contact and goes back to serving customers. I catch sight of my brother discreetly looking over his shoulder at the man, and I know whatever is going on, he will take care of it, especially if it involves Sky. Dante’s friend then turns and walks away, leaving the pair of us alone once again. Dante clears his throat beside me.

“It was such a pleasure spending the evening with you, Sage. I look forward to seeing you on Thursday.” With that, he lifts my hand, placing a soft kiss over my knuckles. I’m glad the club is dark because I swear, I blush before he releases me and follows his friend towards the exit. I watch him leave until he is no longer visible among the crowd. I smile, chuckling to myself as I raise my hand to my mouth.

Once I am sure he’s left, I want to talk to Ophelia immediately and divulge all the details about him and our conversation. Turning in the booth, I let out a squeal when I practically fall over Saint, who is now sitting right beside me in the booth. How the fuck did he get here without me noticing? How long has he been here?

“Saint, what the fuck?!” I yell, clutching my chest to calm the shock of him magically appearing out of thin air. Lifting his beer to his lips, he peers at me over his bottle.

“Who was he?” His voice is low and gravelly, as if holding back what he truly wants to say. I scoff, turning away from him, not wanting to have this discussion now. I’m sliding my way out of the other side of the booth when a large hand clamps over my thigh, rendering me immobile.

“I asked you a question, witch stick.” I go to push his hand off my leg, but he drags me closer to him so I’m now fully in the booth once again. I look down at where he is touching me—his large hand covers most of my thigh. Thick veins are visible over the top of his hand as he gives me a squeeze, awaiting my answer.

“Saint, I just met him. That’s all. It’s not like I let him jump in my pants or take me home with him.”

“Like I would’ve let that happen.” His tone is deep, the corner of his mouth lifting up as if he’s disgusted with the thought of me leaving with someone.

“Saint, are you serious? I know you take your job of being my brother’s bitch seriously, but don’t forget I’m an adult and can handle myself.” I was being brave. Liquid courage will do that to you. His eyes darken while his chest fills with a deep breath. As he leans closer to my face, I turn away. Warm breath hits my ear, giving me chills.

“Make no mistake, Sage, I’m no one’s bitch. And if you think you can talk to me like I’m just another one of your punk flings, you don’t know me at all.” The scary thing was, I do know Saint. I know him enough to realize when I’ve pushed the wrong button, and right now, I’ve clearly pushed said buttons. I soften my face, giving him a desperate plea to stop being a caveman and just let me enjoy the night. Our eyes stay locked on one another, his expression holding firm with his scowl creating deep grooves between his brows. I’m about to give in and tell him about Dante, when a loud, high-pitched scream startles me out of our stare off.

“Sage! There you are! Here, I got you another drink—it’s a double! Now come on, let’s dance!” Thank you, Ophelia, for saving me from this standoff with Saint. He lets my leg go, and I quickly shimmy out of the booth, grabbing her hand as she leads me to the floor. I can’t help glancing over my shoulder. He is still watching me as the corner of his mouth curls into a wicked grin. Fuck, that smile does things to me.

While dancing with Ophelia, I tell her all about Dante and our plans for the art show this Thursday. She squeals with excitement and orders another round of drinks to celebrate. It isn’t until I’ve had two more drinks that I notice the warmth of the alcohol tingling all over my body. Yes, I am drunk. I don’t care. This is the night to let loose and enjoy my friends. Bristol had joined in on the dance floor and told us Frieda had to go, but the three of us continue on as the music bumps through my body. I can’t help the thoughts of Saint and his audacity to treat me like a child after Dante left. His possessive caveman behavior has gotten worse over the last year, and it is seriously becoming a problem for me. Not only do I have Saxon playing the big brother role, but it’s almost like Saint has developed this constant watchful eye over me. I am going to have to talk to him about that, maybe even talk to Saxon about both of them laying off me and letting me live my life how I chose.

My thigh burns with the sensation of Saint’s hand gripping me in the booth. The sheer electrical current that he created over my skin has me breaking out in a sweat. When had he been able to affect me so? If it isn’t with his eyes, it is with a small touch here and there. Never inappropriate, but enough that I am becoming more and more aware of his presence.

I don’t know how long we have been dancing for. My mind is swirling with thoughts of Dante, but Saint is always in the corners of my mind, lurking and drawing me in with his captivating eyes. I am spinning and dancing, but when I stop, the room continues spinning around me. Fuck, I am really drunk.

“Sage, you good, girl?” I can hear Ophelia laughing, but her body is swaying side to side.

“Stop moving, O,” I giggle out, but Bristol’s laugh comes from my side.

“She’s not moving at all. Damn, girl, you’re drunk, drunk.” The three of us laugh when a large hand presses against my lower back. I fall into their touch, appreciating the support so I don’t fall on my ass, but when a deep voice fills my head, I know tonight is over.

“Sage, come on. You’re done. Let’s go home.” Saint’s voice is almost sobering, almost. I sigh, turning to face him and falling face first into his chest. Fuck, his chest is like a brick wall. Rubbing my nose, I look up at him. His hands grab my waist to steady me. and there it is. The electrical charge he always sends through my body whenever he touches me.

“Ophelia, Owen is driving you and Bristol home. I’m taking Sage home, and Saxon is driving your car back to your house.” The girls don’t argue because at this point, we are all pretty toasted and know arguing with the guys will get us nowhere.

The girls and I hug, agreeing we will call each other tomorrow, and I watch as my two friends follow Saxon and Owen towards the exit. I blow O a kiss before turning back to Saint, waving my hand towards the exit as well, in the most sarcastic way I can. He isn’t impressed with my drunken behavior, and when his hand snakes around my waist and he starts leading us out, I can’t help but look down at his hands again.

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