Page 33 of The Saint

“Where did you learn it?”

“My father.” Everything I was, everything I’d learned, had come from him. Sometimes it was hard to look at myself in the mirror and accept that I was his son, that every part of me was rooted in greed, blood, and evil.

She gave a slight nod with no judgment.

“Let’s go home.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

I smirked. “What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t care—as long as I have you for dessert.”

I walked into the church in my suit and tie while Fleur hung on my arm. She was in a little black dress with sky-high heels, still a valley in the shadow of my mountain. She wore a gold necklace and bracelet, gold hoops in her ears, looking like a model who’d stepped straight out of a catalogue.

The church was already packed with people, but since guests were anxious to get to their seats before the wedding started, there wasn’t a lot of small talk. Luca caught my attention to the left side. He had a girl with him, a girl I’d never seen before.

When we came close, Luca gave Fleur a kiss on each cheek.

She hesitated before she reciprocated the gesture.

I knew he liked her, but he wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t more than that, if she wasn’t family.

“This is Amelia,” he said. “Bastien and Fleur.”

I greeted her with a nod, and Fleur shook her hand.

I put no effort into Luca’s women because I would never see them again.

We took our seats in the row then waited for the ceremony to begin.

My hand went to Fleur’s thigh, and if we weren’t in public, let alone a church, I would have slid it under the material and inched much higher. The ceremony started, and it was a bore-fest because I didn’t know anyone but my business partner, who gave his daughter away before he took his seat at the front of the church.

The ceremony finally ended after what felt like an eternity, and then we headed to the Four Seasons, a few blocks from the church. The ballroom was drenched in luxurious décor, dimmed lighting, and flower centerpieces that flowed with elegance.

All I cared about was the bar.

I went to the bar with Luca and stood in line to order our drinks.

I felt bad leaving Fleur to make small talk with Amelia, but when I glanced at them, they seemed to be doing alright. “Who’s the girl?”

“Met her last week during a night out.”

“Met her at a bar or a brothel?”

“You think I’d bring a prostitute for a date?” he asked incredulously.

I shrugged. “I’ve done it.”

He gave a shake of his head like I was ridiculous. “Does Fleur know that?”

“I told her.” Not that I’d taken a whore to a party, but that some of the women in my bed had been paid to be there.

“She was cool with it?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Remember Cynthia?” He stepped forward when we moved farther up the line. “She lost her shit when I told her.”

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