Page 29 of Gilded Saint

Still, there’s no denying that he’s handsome, fit, and when he’s not angry, he’s approachable. If I hadn’t been so absorbed in my problems when we met, I would’ve noticed him. Heat and vitality come off him in waves. Golden brown eyes beneath straight dark brows. Glints of silver and gold in trimmed nut-brown hair, an angular, commanding jaw and broad shoulders. His skeletal structure would make him a pleasure to sketch.

When he’d been in only jeans and barefoot, I hadn’t been prepared for my body’s reaction to the sight of his taut chest and defined abdomen. My breathing slowed, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. There’s no way he didn’t notice. My ex, Jules, had been skin over bones compared to Leo. Even Leo’s pale, bare feet extending beyond the denim held sex appeal.

Of course, if Leo’s like the Grigi men, he has girlfriends all over the world, and girlfriends is a kind descriptor.

It’s absolutely fine if he dates women all over the world. “Date” is probably another kind word. “Sexual relations” is more accurate. What he does isn’t my business, as we have an arrangement, one he agreed to out of kindness.Unless you plan to throw sex on the table.Obviously, I’m not. He didn’t sound like he wanted me to, either. He’d been angry.

But even angry, he didn’t threaten or belittle me. If Leo was like Vincent, Scarlet’s husband, he wouldn’t have ever offered to help me. He would’ve walked right by Leandro in the alley, or maybe stopped to watch.

But the nagging voice reminds me Vincent was polite and gracious when we first met him. Muscular, he filled out a suit well, and aside from his front gold tooth, his appearance didn’t match one of a mafia enforcer. When I first met him, I’d thought Scarlet’s mother had made her a desirable match. I’d believed Scarlet to be fortunate.

It’s a disturbing thought. The silent security guard beside me does nothing to settle my nerves.

If I arrive at Leo’s flat and it’s clear Leo suffers from a perverse nature, I’ll leave. I’ll call Scarlet, and she’ll help me. Unlike me, she trained with a fighter. She’s skilled. I should train.

If there’s a room in his house with chains or whips, or if there are body parts in the refrigerator, I’ll leave. I won’t call Scarlet unless he traps me. I’ll wait a suitable amount of time before returning to Italy so I’m not forced into a union with Leandro, but I will listen to my gut. If I don’t feel safe, I’ll leave. I packed jewelry I can sell. I have a credit card in my name and euros in my wallet.

Solitude leaves me with nothing but my thoughts. While my nerves become a live wire of uncertainty and determination, Matthew says nothing.

At a young age, I learned the security team puts their lives on the line to protect us, and I shouldn’t do anything to distract them or lessen their effectiveness. Therefore, I don’t talk to him, although conversation would be a welcome distraction from the thoughts whirling through my head.

When we land, Matthew escorts me through the airport to a black sedan with tinted windows. He opens the back door and, as I take my seat, the driver says, “Good day, miss.”

The driver pulls away, leaving Matthew at the curb. The driver’s focus remains on the road, and, like Matthew, he doesn’t say or do anything to invite conversation, so I follow his cue.

Traffic from the airport merges into a slow, stop-and-go stream. The passing buildings appear especially gray, as is the sky. If I were to paint the scenery, I would use a monotone palette with a mix of white and black, one marked by a complete absence of color, and the other scored by a saturation of all colors. Yin and yang.

Today is my first day officially free from the Lupi Grigi clan. How ironic the sky is bleak and I’m alone. Oh, and let’s not forget…safety remains a question.

The sedan meanders through city streets. It slows in front of a gate that slowly rises. The car dips down into a covered garage. I wasn’t paying close enough attention, but it appears we are in a covered area for an apartment building for multiple units. The spots are marked with unit numbers.

The car door opens, and an older woman with a splendid mix of white, steel gray, and black hair holds the door for me.

“Welcome to Stratford, dear. I’m Judy. Unfortunately, you’re arriving later than I expected, and I must rush off, but before I do, I’ll give you a quick tour of your new home.”

When I stand, I tower over Judy. The top of her head doesn’t reach my shoulder. Her gaze falls to my heels.

“We won’t have far to walk. The elevator is up ahead.” She leads the way, and I glance back at the sedan.

“Should I get my?—”

“John will get your luggage, dear. Your trunks have already arrived. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of unpacking for you. A few items were a little worse for the journey and I sent them off to be pressed.”

Judy’s steps are tight and quick. Even with my longer legs, I scurry to keep up.

“This building has twenty-four-hour concierge service. Your name and photograph have been added to the registry. Mr. Sullivan said you’re an artist. The building includes co-working spaces, and at Mr. Sullivan’s request, I have inquired about obtaining one for you to use as an artist's studio. Mr. Sullivan’s flat is a three-bedroom unit. He said to give you the two smaller bedrooms and to remove the furniture from the room if you’d like to create a studio in the apartment. I’ll need a list of the supplies you will require.” She presses the elevator button. “The kitchen is fully stocked. Cleaning service arrives every other day at present, but if you wish for a daily cleaning, simply let me know. There is a rooftop garden that you have access to.”

The elevator slides open. She places a plastic card against a pad and presses the number forty-one. The doors close, and my stomach freefalls as the elevator ascends.

“I’m trying to think what else you will need to know. The bathroom is fully stocked, but if there is anything you need, please let me know. Message me, and I’ll have items delivered as quickly as possible. I’m Mr. Sullivan’s home manager, but I also manage the properties for four others in this building, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to message me. In all likelihood, I’ll be close by.” She peruses my body, and my spine straightens.

The lift stops and the doors slide open. Light reflects off a polished concrete floor. Wide metal stairs lead up, and glass walls with an expansive view of the city line two walls.

“I take it Mr. Sullivan doesn’t suffer from fear of heights.”

“Oh, dear. Do you?”

“No,” I answer, but a slight dizziness takes hold. It feels like I could step to the edge of the concrete and fall to my death.

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