Page 92 of Fallen Saint

“Your safety is my only concern,” Alek whispers into my ear as he must notice me staring at them.

If he thinks I’m afraid of guns, knives, and whatever other weapons his guests are inclined to, he’s wrong. The only thing that scares me is standing right beside me.

The guards attach tags to the barrels of guns before they place them into a divided shelf behind them. It’s all so orderly and how most would have a cloakroom for coats; Alek just has storage for weapons instead.

Once the gun is stowed, they give the patron their ticket and wish them well.

The house has been transformed into a baroque-themed paradise with music to match. The debonair outfits also complement the vibe. The women are dressed in elegant dresses in all shapes and colors. No expense has been spared. The men are either decked out in tuxedos or fine silk suits.

Everyone hides behind their mask, which gives them an air of ambiguity, and will lead to scandal and mystery, no doubt, as the fine champagne runs freely throughout the night.

Alek leads me through the throngs of people. At a guess, I would say there are about a hundred guests here. He greets most, ensuring I stay by his side. He doesn’t introduce me, which I find strange, but he reveals why a moment later.

“We’ll greet our guests in the ballroom, which is where I will announce you. I want all eyes to be on you so you get the attention you so deserve,” he whispers into my ear.

“I’d rather stay incognito,” I reveal, meaning every word.

But Alek won’t have it. “Nonsense. You’ve earned your place by my side. Besides, you’re the guest of honor. All these people”—he sweeps his hand outward—“they’re here to see you. Not me.”

“I don’t feel comfortable doing this.” My voice is uneven.

He stops walking and turns over his shoulder to look at me. We are standing in the middle of the room, but Alek doesn’t care. “This really leaves you unsettled, doesn’t it?”

“Of course, it does,” I reply without thought.

Alek shakes his head as he continues staring at me in awe. “You surprise me every single day. When I have”—he clears his throat and toys with his bow tie—“introduced other…women, they haven’t minded. But you, you are so different. You truly are unlike anyone I have ever met before.”

His comment has me wondering just how many women he’s introduced. This is completely Zoey’s scene as I can just imagine her parading around in her extravagant dresses and jewels, proud to be hanging off Alek’s arm.

“All I ask is for one dance and then you can retreat to your room until—” His abrupt pause clues me onto what he intended to say.Until he exploits me in a room full of perverts and sick human beings.

I can’t keep the horror from my face.

“???????—” But he is interrupted by a voice which turns my blood cold.

“Aleksei, my dear friend. Your home looks absolutely charming.”

Both Alek and I turn to see Oscar pushing through the crowd to greet us. He looks impeccably dressed in a black suit with red velvet lapels, and his mask is a simple black design. My skin suddenly prickles in awareness, and I know it has nothing to do with Oscar and everything to do with the man who stands by his side.

The crisp black tuxedo hugs the man’s refined frame. He is towering and imposing, and my heart skips a beat when I meet his eyes. Although his mask, which is separated into black and white halves, is full length and covers his face, I know without a doubt the masked stranger is not a stranger at all.

Those eyes, those hypnotic green eyes belong to Saint.

How can I not recognize him? Our first few weeks together played out similar to this. Him hiding behind a mask while I attempted to uncover what he was thinking.

An intake of breath escapes me as I try to compose myself. But seeing him does something to me, and my hands begin to shake. Saint’s intense gaze burns a hole straight through me, and the need to run to him overwhelms me.

But as Alek peers down at me, taking note of my strange reaction, I rein in my desperation. I need to keep my head in the game.

“Oscar.” Alek is curt as he addresses his so-called friend. When he looks at Saint, tilting his head to the side, I hold my breath. Is our ruse up?

Alek offers his hand. “Hello, Dominic.”

I exhale in relief.

The corded veins at Saint’s throat strain as he begrudgingly takes the offering. I can only imagine how hard it is for him not to snap his wrist.

“Dominic has taken a vow of silence until further notice,” Oscar explains, looking at me with a smirk. He so knows I’m in on their little secret. “That’s what happens when servants don’t behave. Maybe you should follow the example, Aleksei.”

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