Chapter 35 #2
I look away. Not because I’m judging but because something about it feels intimate. Private. The kind of thing you accidentally witness and immediately pretend you didn’t.
The music grows louder as FKA twigs “Striptease” floats from the speakers.
The party grows larger. Girls dance half naked to the rhythm.
Yet beneath all of it, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m observing a different world compared to the last party.
One built on money, power, and rules that nobody bothered to explain to me.
Elliot’s voice pulls me back. “You’re thinking too much.”
“I always think too much.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
He smiles. “I like it.”
The words land unexpectedly. Not flirtatious. Not predatory.
Simple.
Honest.
For a moment, I understand why I felt like meeting Elliot wouldn’t be so bad.
Because being around him is easy. So far, it’s just conversation.
A burst of laughter erupts behind us. I turn. And freeze.
Because Saint is standing on the opposite side of the pool, half hidden among the shadows.
Watching.
Not me.
But Elliot.
The realization sends a chill down my spine. Saint’s gaze never leaves him. The distance between them spans the entire terrace, yet somehow it feels smaller. More dangerous. As if something silent is being communicated in a challenge. A warning. A promise.
Elliot sees him. His jaw tightens. For the first time all evening, he stops smiling. Neither man looks away. The firelight flickers. The red water moves between them. Then Saint finally shifts his attention.
To me.
His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes soften. Just slightly. The smallest difference. So small no one else would notice against the light. Their attention is mostly on Saint’s massive size. His muscles are carved to perfection, but he’s oblivious to the attention.
He turns and disappears into the house, leaving me with the uncomfortable realization that somehow...being watched by Saint feels less frightening than watching him disappear.
“Want a drink?”
I look away from where Saint disappeared.
“Depends.”
Elliot grins. “On?”
“Whether you’re trying to poison me,” I tease.
“I usually save that for second dates.”
I laugh. The sound surprises both of us. I don’t think he would be that stupid, and, deep down, I know how it would end.
Surprisingly, everything feels normal. Easy. The way college is supposed to feel.
Elliot leads me toward the outdoor bar built into the far side of the terrace. Black stone blankets a backlit shelf wall. Glass reflects crimson light from the pool. A bartender in a fitted suit hands Elliot a beer.
I order a soda. The bartender doesn’t even blink. Money smooths everything here.
We move away from the crowd, toward the edge of the terrace overlooking the woods. The music becomes distant. The pool glows behind us. For the first time all evening, I can actually hear myself think.
Elliot leans against the railing. “So.”
“So,” I toss back. “You invited me here.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
His smile grows. “You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“You’re either incredibly honest or incredibly clueless about the effect you have on people.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
“They are at Kenyan.”
I roll my eyes.
He laughs. Then his expression softens. “I wanted to get to know you.”
The honesty catches me off guard, but then I remember which side he’s on and what side I’m on.
Before I can answer, movement catches my attention. The crowd near the pool parts. Not dramatically but instinctively. People step aside without realizing they’re doing it, making room.
The atmosphere shifts like the breeze picking up as a storm rolls in. Saint materializes like a king in his castle as he walks through the terrace without touching anyone. Yet people move. Conversations pause as he walks by.
Eyes follow him, but his expression is unreadable as he walks over. The crimson light from the pool reflects across his jaw. Across the scars on his knuckles. Across eyes that never leave mine.
Elliot straightens beside me as he closes the distance.
Ten feet.
Five.
Three.
Then Saint stops directly beside us. He’s close enough that I can smell cedar on his clothes and feel the heat coming off him in waves.
The air becomes thick as no one speaks, and the silence stretches.
Elliot finally breaks first. “Saint.”
Saint glances at him like he is assessing what to do with him. The way a predator studies another animal entering its territory.
“Elliot,” he replies, his voice calm and controlled.
Which somehow feels worse.
Elliot gestures toward me. “We were talking.”
“I noticed.” The response lands harder than it should.
Because of course he noticed. He notices everything.
Saint’s attention shifts to my untouched soda. “You haven’t eaten.”
I blink. “What?”
“The party started two hours ago.” His eyes move over me once. “You haven’t eaten.”
Elliot stares.
Saint motions for someone behind Elliot. A server materializes from somewhere and reaches behind him. He takes a plate from a passing server and hands it to me.
Then he looks at Elliot. “You should feed your guests.”
The words are polite, yet Elliot’s jaw tightens, a challenge wrapped inside a courtesy.
He’s picking on Elliot in a way that doesn’t make it obvious, but I know he’s sizing him up and pointing out that his hospitality since I arrived is lacking on his part.
Saint looks back at me. “You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
The temperature dropped almost an hour ago, and I’m cold, but I don’t want to admit that to him. Admitting it would give him the satisfaction of being right. Elliot didn’t offer me something to eat or ask if I was comfortable or needed anything. But then I remember Saint didn’t invite me.
Saint removes his hoodie. My stomach immediately betrays me and flutters, begging for his warmth.
It also doesn’t help that I know what he feels like underneath and because the gesture feels intimate. Possessive.
He holds it out, but I don’t take it.
Neither of us moves. The air between us thickens and stretches.
“Amy.” My name sounds different as he says it. Intimate like there is more underneath the surface between us.
Elliot notices. The realization. Whatever he thought this was before has changed.
Because Saint isn’t flirting. He isn’t competing. He isn’t trying to win. He’s behaving like the outcome was decided long ago. And somehow that’s far more terrifying.
Slowly, I take the hoodie. Saint’s gaze drops briefly to the fabric in my hands. The smallest hint of approval crosses his features.
Then his attention returns to Elliot. The silence that follows feels sharp like a blade ready to strike.
Like standing too close to the edge, Elliot exhales. A nervous laugh escapes him. “You’re a weird guy.”
For the first time all evening, Saint smiles. A smile that belongs in dark places. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
The music starts to pound behind us. The crimson water ripples. The woods beyond the property disappear into darkness. And standing between the two men, I realize something. Elliot might be interested in me.
But Saint?