Page 57 of The Saint

“Of course you do.”

His hand went to my ass, and he squeezed it with his big hand.

“Will you wear a ring?”

“I prefer to wear ink rather than jewelry.”

I suddenly remembered that conversation from long ago, when he’d said he saved room to ink his wife’s name on his arm. Based on that, I’d assumed he would also ink a wedding band on his finger if he ever got married. Was he thinking of me when he said that? Had he bought the ring then? “That’s pretty hot.”

His handsome smile emerged. “Black. Permanent. Forever a part of me.”

“It’s sweet.”

He pulled me close then sprinkled me with kisses, on my shoulder, my neck, my collarbone, drenching me in his love. He returned to the pillow then continued to stare at me, the sun slowly rising and moving between the cracks in the curtains. They brightened his eyes, making them look like tropical ocean pools.

“I love you.” With all my heart. With everything I am.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t say it back. Silence stretched, and it was clear something was on his mind. He’d been happy a moment ago, but slowly, the sadness started to creep into his bones and then his flesh. “My father and I hadn’t spoken for two years when he came to my apartment one night…”

All the warmth left me when I heard those words, when I understood whatever he had to say was important…and heartbreaking.

“He came alone and unannounced. I don’t know what made him do it. If he was in my neighborhood and it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Or if he planned it, which was why he drove himself instead of having his driver bring him. So many questions and I’ll never be able to ask him because that night ended with me killing him.”

I didn’t know why he told me all this. “You don’t have to explain, Bastien.”

He ignored what I said. “My father had never been good at putting a full sentence together, unless it was three words or less.Do this. Go here. Kill so-and-so. So, when he came to my apartment, he said a lot of shitty things. Like he wished they’d never had me…or that I’d been a girl he could use as a pawn.” His eyes flicked away, and he swallowed.

It was the first time I’d seen Bastien seem unsure of himself, take a moment to feel and reflect and writhe in silent pain. So afraid to spook him, I didn’t move or speak, just hoped he would finish the horrible tale.

“My father wasn’t a good man, but even then, I don’t understand how anyone can just barge into someone’s apartment after notspeaking for two years, only to say the most unspeakable things. There must have been a better reason for him to come. Must have been something else that he’d never said. Or maybe that’s just me wanting to believe in a fantasy because reality is too fucking harsh.”

I did my best not to cry. Did my best not to provoke him. Bastien was never vulnerable, and I knew once this moment was gone, it would be gone forever. He would return to his rock-hard callousness, back to his sly jokes and indifference.

“Back and forth, we insulted each other. He hit me first and I hit him back. We fought on the floor, and he reached for his gun inside his jacket. To this day, I still don’t know if he grabbed it to shoot me…or if he grabbed it so I wouldn’t shoot him. It all happened so fast, and I didn’t think it through at the time. He said he hated me, and I said I wished he were dead, so I turned the gun on him and squeezed his finger over the trigger…and killed him.”

I nearly gasped in shock but somehow kept it back.

“He bled out…and I lay there in it.” His eyes weren’t on me anymore. They were looking into the distance, living in the past while I stayed with his body in the present. “It’s hard enough to listen to your father say you’re unwanted…but then having to kill him when you didn’t want to…and having to carry that guilt these last thirteen years…to hate your brother and watch him hate you…and to lie to your mother every day because she has no idea that she birthed the monster who killed her husband… Sometimes it’s too much.” A buildup of moisture had coated his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone. He took a couple breaths, pushed back the avalanche of sorrow that had started to roll down his mountain. “But it doesn’t feel like too much with you.”

13

BASTIEN

The butler escorted us into the sitting room, the equivalent of a lobby in an office building, and we waited a few minutes before my mother emerged in a white button-up blouse with midnight-blue trousers and ballet flats. Around her neck, she’d tied a little scarf. My mother always lit up at the sight of me, lit up in a way my father never did, even when I did something right or impressive.

“My baby, what a surprise.” She came over to me and kissed me on each cheek before she gave me a squeeze. Then she turned to Fleur. “Lovely to see you again.” She kissed her on each cheek and blanketed her in motherly affection. “You look beautiful. I love this—” She spotted Fleur’s engagement ring and cupped her mouth with both hands. “Oh my lord, look at that!” She clutched her hands to her chest before she moved back to Fleur and hugged her hard. “You’ve made me so happy.”

I hadn’t seen my mother in the throes of joy in a long time. She smiled politely and appeared engaged in her life, but never anything like this. Nothing that made her shriek in unbridled happiness.

My mother finally let Fleur go and turned to me. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” She hugged me again, Fleur’s size, so also a foot shorter than me. “I did not expect this when you dropped by for a visit. I can’t believe it, but I can very much believe it. So, when is the wedding? It has to be within at least a year?—”

“Mom.” I pulled away and gave her a gentle squeeze on the arm. “We’re still in the moment right now. We’ll figure it out later.”

She turned back to Fleur, took her hand, and examined the ring under the light of the chandelier. “Bastien.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “This ring is marvelous. You have impeccable taste.”

“I know,” I said with a smirk.

“Did you tell him you wanted this?” she asked Fleur.

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