Page 78 of The Billionaire's Secret
"I’ll take your arse, of course," he assures me.
My sex clenches and my heart begins to race.
"Of course," I tip up my chin.
His lips curl. "Wasn’t asking you for your permission."
I draw in a sharp breath.
"In fact, I won’t be giving you much of a heads-up on anything I have in mind. Suffice to say, Gigi, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to remember your name, let alone how you deceived me."
"D…deceived you?"
He doesn’t know. No way. He can’t know the true reason for my having approached him in the first place. "Wh…what do you mean?" I whisper.
He jerks his chin to the side, "Why him… Your former lover, who you invited here to meet you publicly, and all because you wanted to make me jealous, hmm?"
I blink. Is that what he thinks this is? That I am cheating on him? If only it were that simple. I chuckle.
"What’s so funny?"
“N…nothing.” A giggle bubbles up, I try to swallow it, choke. I press my lips together, can’t stop the cough that breaks free. "Excuse me." I bring my hands up to cover my mouth, end up snorting. Tears roll down my cheeks. I sway. Shit, am I having some kind of a nervous breakdown? Is this a bout of hysteria? Didn’t Freud cure hysteria by orgasms? Is that what I need? I wheeze, draw in a breath, then double over, my shoulders shaking.
"Victoria, what the fuck?"
Saint’s boots appear in my line of sight—those same cowboy boots he’s been wearing since the day I met him. For someone who’s a gazillionaire, his taste in footwear is definitely eccentric.
I resist the urge to shuffle my feet, to squeeze my thighs together. It is a test, all a test. It won’t be as bad as he’s implying it’s going to be. It can’t be. He’s just trying to intimidate me. I can take anything Saint throws at me and rise above it. I can.
"I…I’m sorry," I gasp, then straighten and drag the back of my hand across my face. "It’s just you… I…"Another bout of giggles bubbles up. I hunch my shoulders, try to tamp down on the laughter. More tears spill down my cheeks. "Saint… I…" The words catch in my throat. I try to get them out, but end up snorting again. What the hell is wrong with me? I am making a bloody spectacle of myself in front of this man who I am supposed to seduce. I am supposed to take on an unapproachable persona; as close to my Posh Spice alter ego as possible. Instead, I am having a complete breakdown, Kardashian style.
I laugh so hard that my knees sway. Saint grabs my shoulders, steadies me.
"Look at me."
I shake my head, glance to the right, the left, anywhere else but at him. If I do, I’ll… I’ll lose what little composure I own right now. Correction, I have zero self-possession left. I am drained, empty, alone… Always alone. I had Nina, but even that was taken away from me. This feels so hopeless.
"Saint," my voice seems to come from far away.
"Victoria, the fuck is wrong with you?"
I raise my head, glance up into those blue eyes. Burning bright. Sparks flare in their depths. Hot, he is so hot. Alive. Vital. Everything I am not.
"You’re so beautiful." I raise my hand and he catches my wrist. His fingers dig into my skin. Real. Reassuring. Solid. He’ll protect me. He’ll hurt me. He’ll ground me, show me how to stay in the present. "Saint, please…" My lips grow numb. I can’t feel my arms and legs anymore.
"Don’t you fucking faint on me."
I chuckle, "I never faint."
"Liar."
He's right, of course.
The world tilts and darkness pulls me under.
19
Saint
