Page 49 of The Devil's Saint

There’s an entire garland spanning the length of the table, covered in simple greenery and Hydrangea flowers. It’s stunning but way over the top, especially with the multiple-cylinder pillar candles.

“What’s this all for?”

“That’s what I meant to tell you this morning,” she begins, arranging name place cards on top of a ten-piece gold plate setting. “We’re hosting a dinner party for the Maloti family.”

I lean in, lifting the cards next to mine to see who she had placed next to me.

“It’s a bit much. Don’t you think?”

She turns to me with a look of surprise.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that, darling. With everything that’s happened, Eric thought it would be a good idea to carry on with the wedding plans. Give us all something to focus on and look forward to, you know. Besides, we don’t know Jordin’s family that well, and this would be a great opportunity to get to know them.”

“One big happy family,” I mumble under my breath, but she’s too busy rearranging wine glasses to notice. “I have homework to do.”

“Can you have a look over the guest list first? I was hoping you might know who some of these people are,” she quizzes, holding up a sheet of paper with names written on it.

I glance at it without actually reading the names.

“Nope, sorry, can’t help,” I reply, handing her the paper back. I want nothing to do with this charade. Continuing, I ask, “Can I go now? I’ve got things to do?”

She stops fixing the glasses to look at me.

“You didn’t even look at it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, mom.”

She gives me a scolding look. “Lexy!”

“What?” I reply, annoyed. “How am I supposed to know who Christine and Alicia are? I’ve never met them.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately, but this attitude,” she scowls, waving her hand around my face. “It’s not the girl I know.”

“Well, this girl,” I mimic her hand movements towards my face. “Is here to stay, so everyone in this house needs to get used to it.” I finished, angrily walking out of the room, hearing her call out after me. Still, I ignored her, taking the stairs to my room two at a time, not watching where I was going until it was too late.

White sneakers greet me in the middle of the stairs. I falter, looking up to see who it is.

Fuckidy, fuck, fuck.

If the grey, cock bulging sweatpants wasn’t enough to make my eyes bug out, the sweat-covered pecks sure as fuck will.

Jesus Christ! Why does he have to look so goddamn hot all the time? Damn you universe!!!

Seeing Saint like this is like dangling ice cream in front of me in the desert and forbidding me to lick.

Pure torture is what it is. Fuck my life.

In an attempt to keep my composure intact, I lift my eyes to meet his with an icy glare.

“Excuse me,” I snap, attempting to squeeze past him. He doesn’t move.

Rolling my eyes, I attempt a shoulder barge past, but it’s no use. Huffing, I step back, craning my neck to look at him.

“How was the gym?” My tone is spiteful. I don’t give two shits how the gym was.

“Hard. Why?”

When he said the word “hard,” my eyes immediately fell on the bulging outline in his grey sweats.

---