Page 212 of The Billionaire's Secret
What I'd been through couldn’t begin to compare with his experience; but we'd both survived the challenges thrown at us.
Is that why we’re attracted to each other, because we are survivors? No, it’s more than that. We could have met anywhere, in other circumstances, and yet, the connection between us would have been there.
"This is why you respond so quickly every time she calls?"
He nods, "It normally means she's tracked down the whereabouts of a victim or victims," he nods toward the screen "and needs my help."
"Saint finances the efforts." Tink glances between us, "I'm sorry if I've called him at inopportune times. Sometimes I’ve needed backup, and since the operations are kept secret, I can’t risk calling in anyone else."
I tighten my grip around Saint's waist. "So this is what you were doing?" My cheeks heat.
"You didn't think..." Tink glances up at Saint, then makes a face.
"Ugh, I wouldn't date him. He's waay too up his own arse.” She laughs, “Besides, he's more like a brother to me."
Saint tugs on her hair, in a decidedly sibling-like gesture.
"When did you two decide to start this?" I ask.
Saint shuffles his feet, "I've already told you that I took my mother's death hard." He rubs the back of his neck, "Let's just say, I was out of control for a while."
"That's putting things mildly," Tink snorts. "He opened fire in his house when his father was away."
"O-k-a-y." I peer up at Saint, "Did you hurt anyone?"
He shakes his head, "But I destroyed the place. My father packed me off to go work with his friend."
"That's my father," Tink clarifies.
"He was an urban Cowboy, you could say." Saint rolls his shoulders, "He and his friends ran the adjacent farms. They trained and sold horses, and ran a riding school specializing in equine therapy."
"In the middle of London?"
"Zone 4; it's on the outskirts," he reminds me. "But yeah, they are technically in London."
"Wow," I glance around the space, "This place is something..."
Tink nods, "After my father died, Saint became my defacto guardian."
"The stint with Tink and her father saved me. Her father was more a parent to me than my own. If it were not for Tink's dad... I would have ended up shooting myself."
I glance down at the faded Cowboy boots.
"Those are—"
"My father's," Tink completes the sentence.
"I borrowed them from him," Saint says, "when I lived here on the ranch. It's where I was reborn a second time, in a way. Since then—"
"You wear them because they help you remember to stay sane?"
He nods.
Tears prick my eyes. I turn my face into Saint's arm. "I'm sorry that I doubted you," I whisper.
Saint wraps his arm even closer around me, "You couldn't have known, and I should have told you about this earlier."
I shake my head. "It would have been too dangerous."
