Page 39 of No Saint

He nods.

I go back to watching Lincoln, helping him when he needed it and praising when required.

“It isn’t so bad.” Colt says moments later.

I cast my eyes over to him, narrowing them, “What isn’t?”

“Being here.”

I scoff, “Don’t start, Colt, I’ve heard it enough.”

He sighs and then his phone vibrates so he pulls it from his pocket, reading whatever message has just come through. He tucks it away quietly seconds later and then stands, “Good night, Mrs Saint.”

I stare at his back as he retreats. What the fuck was that? It takes another ten minutes for Lincoln to finish his food and after I scrape what I can from the table and floor, I take him back upstairs for a bath. He floods the bathroom with his splashes but it’s when I have him wrapped in a towel, tickling his belly that I finally get a visitor.

“Camille,” I greet, drying off Lincoln before grabbing a diaper and his pajamas.

“Do you mind if I have him for a few hours?”

“He slept late today,” I tell her honestly, “He won’t go down for another couple hours.”

“That’s okay,” she smiles.

It throws me off guard, it was a warm smile, one that genuinely reached her eyes and brightened her face.

“I mean, sure, yeah,” I nod, “Yeah.”

“Thank you, Amelia.”

My brows tug down and I lift Lincoln, passing him over to his grandmother.

“Enjoy your evening,” she tells me before she exits the room with my son who beams at the older woman with pure love in his eyes. He was infatuated with her.

“You too,” I say long after she’s rounded the corner and I’m left alone.

Not for long apparently as a second figure graces me with his presence in a matter of minutes. Gabriel stands like a demon sent right from the depths of hell. In his dark suit and with his dark hair, his eyes pop like fiery shards from his face, set off even more so by his olive toned skin and low set dark brows. He cocks his head to the side, eyes roaming over my face and then down my body which I’d only dressed in a pair of leggings and oversized tee which was still wet from the splashes during bath time.

“Wife,” he greets.

“Amelia,” I correct.

His mouth notches up at the side, “Care to join me for dinner?”

I place a hand on my hip, “Do I have a choice?”

His mouth now widens into a full smile and damn, he had fucking dimples too. “Absolutely not.”

My nostrils flare and anger courses through me at his stupidly handsome face. “I’ll change first,” I tell him through my teeth.

He leans on the door jam and crosses his arms, waiting. Theaudacityof this devil!

I walk towards him, and that smile drops from his face. He watches, like a predator never losing sight of his prey, eyes on my face, bouncing between my mouth and my eyes. I get close, real close, so close I smell his spice and leather scent and then I reach for the door, shove him and pull it hard, letting it slam in his face.

His chuckle echoes through the wood and sends a shiver tumbling down my spine.

17

She steps from the room five minutes later, her dark hair pulled into a bun and now dressed in a pair of loose denim jeans and cropped jumper, her feet bare.

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