Page 19 of The Saint

That smile stretched across his lips like that answer truly made him happy. All he wanted to do was take care of me. It gave him more than happiness, but purpose and pride. “I assumed.”

“I doubt my boss misses me either. I was the worst assistant ever.”

“You were not.”

“As if he’d ever complain about me to you. You wanna know how I know I sucked?”

He cocked his head slightly.

“He never asked me to do anything. Like, ever. I could have sat in that office and played solitaire all day, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I had to find things to do for him.”

“That doesn’t mean you sucked. It just means he was scared shitless of pissing me off.”

“What did you say to him when you hired me?”

“That my woman would be working for him, and I’d shoot him in the back of the head if he gave you a hard time.”

My eyes nearly popped open.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, come on. You think I’d say that?”

“Uh, yes.”

He smiled before he took another bite of his sandwich. When he swallowed, he spoke again. “I just told him you were my girl and needed work. That was it. I’m not sure if he even wanted an assistant. Maybe he thought I planted you to spy on him, so he walked on eggshells the whole time.”

“Well, that would mean he’s hiding something.”

“We’re all hiding something, sweetheart.”

“Even you?” I asked, turning those words around on him.

He looked me dead in the eye, the smile nowhere in sight. “Yes.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that, so my own smile drained out of my face.

He seemed to have lost his appetite because he didn’t touch any more of his food. He drank from his water then sat there, arms across his chest, as if he expected me to interrogate him about these secrets.

But I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to violate his privacy.

He continued to stare at me. “I’ll tell you if you want to know.”

My eyes flicked down to my plate, only a few bites left. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Bastien. You’re entitled to your privacy.”

He cocked his head in the other direction, his eyes narrowing as he stared at my face. Several beats passed, and he didn’t say anything. “I’ll have to tell you eventually, but now isn’t the best time.” Probably because we were surrounded by people and families and tourists.

“Why do you have to?”

“It’s just something you should know. Something I’m not proud of, but I’m not sorry about either.”

I felt my heart tumble into the abyss, and I didn’t want to think about whatever it was a moment longer. “Whose wedding are we going to?”

He clearly hadn’t expected the change in subject because he stared at me for nearly a minute before he answered the question. “One of my producers. His daughter is getting married at the Four Seasons.”

“Now that I have all my stuff back, I have something to wear.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t buy something new too.”

“You seem to have forgotten how many clothes you moved over for me.”

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