Page 59 of The Saint

He gave a slight nod. “Congratulations.”

I didn’t accept it, unsure if it was genuine.

“Why would you destroy your alliance with the Aristocrats for the man who used to fuck your girl?”

I didn’t appreciate how he phrased that, but I didn’t rise to the bait. “Love makes you do crazy things.”

He took a puff of his cigar and let the smoke absorb on his tongue as he stared at me. Seconds later, he let it go as a cloud.

“They were all aware of Oscar’s plan to bury Fleur. They’re just as guilty as he is.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

“It is—but it’s still valid.”

“You know they’ll come back. And when they do, they’ll come for you.”

“I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.” I set my cigar aside and took a drink. I hadn’t done this with my brother for years, not since we were business partners, before he lied to me.

There was a long stretch of silence before Godric spoke. “This is the real deal?”

I regarded him, searching for his meaning before I responded. “Yes.”

He stared at me for a while before he gave a slight nod. “Mom was so excited when she told me, I could barely understand a word of what she said.”

“I’m surprised she told you.”

He gave a shrug. “Every couple of years, she makes her plea for us to be brothers again. To put aside the past and start over. I think that your upcoming nuptials reignited that.” He took another puff on his cigar. “She knows I’ll never get married, so…”

“Never say never. Didn’t think I’d get married either.”

“Then she must be one hell of a woman.”

“You have no idea, brother.”

He stilled when I uttered the endearment, something I hadn’t said to him in a long time.

I was somewhat embarrassed for the way I’d dumped my emotional baggage on him, in the middle of a crowded room when he had no warning of the missile headed his way. But it was done now, so I had to pretend I had no regrets about it.

Godric enjoyed his cigar a while longer, his eyes drifting elsewhere as he remained lost in thought. “His name is Ivan.”

My full attention focused on him, the sound of the rain suddenly gone.

“Escaped from a Russian prison for crimes against his own government. Laid low in the Middle East for years. Now, he has his own organization in Paris. Says it’s the mecca of wealth and power.”

I didn’t get anxiety, but I felt floods of adrenaline akin to waterfalls.

“Bastien.” He took the cigar out of his mouth and let it rest between his fingers on the table, the conversation turning even more serious than it’d been a moment ago. “He puts the psycho in psychopath.”

“Then why do you work with him?”

“I don’t. We just have the same ideologies about business.”

“If you share the same beliefs, and he’s a psychopath, what does that make you?” I cocked my head as I penetrated him with my stare.

He stared back, smoke rising from the tip of his cigar.

“Just something to think about…”

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