Page 11 of Broken Saint

No.

I needed to walk away now. He'd made his wishes crystal clear, and I'd agreed to every one of them. To violate his privacy would be tantamount to a betrayal. I couldn't be that person. No way.

Still, I didn't return to the kitchen or move to get away at all. My brain screamed alternatively for me to run and stay at the same time.

Just a quick peek.

No.

It won't hurt.

That's a lie.

The war inside my mind raged on as my fingers slid underneath the fabric and fingered the slim leather case inside the breast pocket of his suit.

Just his name.

That was all I wanted. Even if I couldn't say it out loud, there was something about knowing more about the man who drove me insane I couldn't resist.

I pulled the wallet free and stared down at the well-used but slim black folio. Of course he kept it minimal. Just like everything else. The man was a puzzle and my curious mind could not stop trying to figure him out.

One quick look.

As I turned that wallet over and over in my hands and debated on whether I would actually look, I already knew. From the moment my fingers had felt that bulge I'd known. I was going to look. I had already broken my vow not to get attached. What was one more tiny transgression?

In the light of day, would knowing his identity make any difference to him? For me it might. Saying goodbye to a practical stranger sounded easy, until I realized that when it came to the memories I wanted to keep, his name meant everything.

I glanced through the open doorway into the bedroom to see him still exactly how I'd left him. Asleep on his side, facing away from me and toward the space I'd previously occupied.

While I couldn't see his face, I didn't need to. I had memorized it long ago. His usually harsh features softened in sleep making him look much younger than I'd previously suspected. My guess was thirty-ish. I'd also decided he probably had something to do with security at the hotel. That had originated from the suit and his continued presence in the hotel. Nothing else made sense.

I couldn't even remember how many times I'd almost asked Nina about him. If he worked for The Sinclair, then the wife of the hotel manager would either know who he was or could find out.

Again, that niggle of betrayal itched on the back of my neck. I hadn't wanted to risk his job. This wasn't the same. My finding out his name like this put no one at risk other than me. It was no big deal to have a name to the face I figured would haunt my dreams for years to come.

Just do it.

The hesitation was killing me. Since when had I gotten so damned indecisive? This was ridiculous.

As I was about to open it, my phone rang, shrill and loud from across the table and filled the room.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I shoved the wallet back into his jacket and dove for the phone, which showed my sister calling, and immediately silenced it.

I’d been expecting her call for days, and I was afraid if I didn’t answer she might not be able to call again. With a glance over my shoulder, I let out a breath of relief when I found him still sleeping.

I sprinted to the bathroom and pressed the screen to answer as I closed and locked the door.

"Hey, Car. What's up?" I whispered, hoping like hell that I wasn’t overheard.

"What’s up with you? I’ve been waiting to hear from you forever." My attention was piqued at the breathless tone of Carina's voice. Sometimes my younger sister could be so dramatic, but something told me this was serious.

"I’ve been busy getting ready for the show," I said cautiously, unclear as to whether I was going to tell her what she likely wanted to know.

"Those items we talked about last time," she whispered. "Did you get them?"

My stomach sank. She’d been the one to tell me where to find the diamonds. It made sense she wanted to know if I’d found them, but the less anyone else knew, the better.

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