Page 8 of Giving It to the Monster

Natasha raised her brow. “I thought you’d be fucking your way through every single woman.”

“I am. You asked if I was with someone, not fuckin’ them.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You married? Got kids?”

She tensed up, staring at him. “I, erm, I’m married. Well, I’m in the process of getting divorced.”

“Why come here? Why come to me for help when you could have gone to your husband?”

“Why are you pissed?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, it just so happens that my husband is also an asshole, Saint. Okay? He’s the one that did this.” She snorted. “I can’t believe it. I left home, and I married a guy who liked to use his fists, only I didn’t discover that for a long time.”

The first time he’d hit her was two years ago. She had been so shocked, and she’d blamed herself for making him mad. Then over the past two years, the slaps had turned into punches, until she had walked away from him. She had wanted a divorce, and wasn’t going to rest until she got it. They had several disagreements during the divorce process. He wanted to make it work, but she accepted it wasn’t going to happen. Then a week ago, he’d turned up at her house, and instead of talking, he’d lashed out, severely beating her. Unable to handle the pain, she had run home. Run back to a man who would protect her.

It was stupid. She had left him, and now she was back with Saint because he was the one guy in her world whom she trusted more than anyone else.

“Your own husband fucking did this to you?”

“Yeah. Can you believe it? After everything you taught me, who I am, I never thought I’d be a victim. That’s what I am, right? The victim.”

“What’s your husband’s name?” Saint asked.

“I’m not telling you. I don’t want you to kill him.”

“You need a divorce, and I can help with that.”

“Look, my husband is a lawyer. He knows how to cause problems. I don’t want you to have anything go wrong. You’re not exactly the most kosher of people.”

He stared at her for a long time.

Tears filled her eyes. “I know it’s asking a lot. You’re the only person I know who’d help me.”

“After all this time?”

“Yeah. Is that weird? After all this time, you’re the only one I can turn to.”

“Your parents left town years ago.”

“They’re dead.”

“What?”

“Yeah. They died in a plane crash heading toward the Alps. They always wanted to go on a skiing holiday. It got them killed. Five years ago.” She had mourned their loss, and that was when she had finally decided to marry Simon Meyer. They had dated on and off, but she’d always refused to take it to the next level. Once her parents passed, and she felt truly alone, she’d caved. At least someone had wanted her.

“Holy shit, I had no idea.”

“You’ve been busy. I don’t expect you to remem—” She was stopped by someone thumping on his door.

Saint got up and made his way toward the door.

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