Page 55 of The Saint

“Yeah.” I finished half of my food and left it there, my focus entirely on Bastien now. “I don’t even know how to thank you for what you did. Adrien is my ex-husband, and you still helped him. And you didn’t even make me ask.” It took an extraordinary man to be that secure, to risk his life for a man who used to call me his. But he felt no jealousy. Never showed a single sign of it.

He crossed his arms over his chest fully, and he stared at me hard, almost like he was angry. His eyes were focused with alethal precision. It was hard to know what he was thinking in that moment, if my words moved him or annoyed him.

“I’m not sure how I can ever show my gratitude.” His love felt unconditional, as if he would truly do anything for me, no matter what it was, even if it was putting his life on the line for an ex who deserved what was coming to him. I would never understand why he’d chosen me to love, when he could have literally any woman he wanted with those devastating blue eyes…but he did.

The silence was heavy, as if whatever he was about to say had enough substance to put a hole in the wall. His eyes were sharp like the knife that had cut his arm, and he seemed to slice straight into my soul. “I know how.”

Bumps formed on my arms as the excitement prickled. After the night we’d had, I expected a quiet evening on the couch, but it looked like he wanted to throw me on the bed and tie my wrists to the headboard.

He cocked his head slightly, still giving me a look that hit harder than a bullet. “Marry me.”

I blinked, unsure if that was a serious statement or some kind of a joke. But given what had just happened over the last few hours, it seemed like a shitty time to make a joke. I almost asked but I changed my mind, and that was probably for the best.

His stare didn’t change, and that told me he was dead serious. “You want to thank me for what I did? Then marry me.”

All that stuff in the closet was dirty talk—but it was also true. It’d clearly been on his mind, but for how long, I didn’t know. It gave me a rush of adrenaline, of excitement and fear packaged together into a swirl of emotions. I’d just told Adrien that Iwould marry Bastien, but I meant someday, and the question still put me on the spot.

He waited for me to say something, not blinking since he’d begun this showdown.

I swallowed. Melted in the heat of his stare. Felt cornered like an animal. “Are you actually asking me?—”

“I’m telling you.”

Jesus.

“That’s what I want. Now, give it to me.”

I was hot all over, a strange mixture of being turned on and fucking scared. No other man had ever wanted me so desperately, had ever been obsessed with me from the moment our eyes met. But it wasn’t a passion that flamed out as quickly as it started. It continued to burn, continued to grow, and he never seemed to grow tired of me.

“You said you had closure.”

“I did?—”

“Then let’s do it.” He was so pragmatic about it, like this was a business negotiation rather than a romantic gesture. Every time I gave Bastien an inch, he demanded a mile. And now, he demanded all of my miles.

Jesus, my heart was beating so hard.

He abruptly rose to his feet and walked off. He headed to the bedroom.

I gave a quiet gasp in fear, afraid that I’d pissed him off and chased him away, but I was rooted to my chair, still grappling with the fact that he’d just asked—told—me to be his wife.

He returned as quickly as he left and placed a small box in front of me.

The lid was already open—revealing a big-ass diamond ring. “Oh my fucking god…” A brilliant oval diamond started up at me, reflecting the light that came from every corner and angle, the clarity unmistakable. The diamond had to be about twenty carats, the kind of ring only a queen would wear. Like, an actual queen. It was so big that its intention was more than to denote marital status, but rather the status of the man who’d given it to me. I wasn’t a jeweler or someone who knew anything about engagement rings, but this one had to be worth at least a couple million. “Bastien…” How long had it been sitting in his drawer? How long had I been sleeping right next to it? When did he buy it? When did he plan on giving it to me? Because I didn’t believe this was the moment he’d been waiting for.

“Do you like it?”

My eyes flicked up to his, and I released a strained laugh. “Do I like it…”

“Then put it on.”

“Is this too fast?—”

“No.”

“Bastien.”

“I know what I want, and I’m not afraid to say it.” His arms moved to the table, and he leaned forward. “Are you?”

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