17. She’s Mine
SHE’S MINE
SAUL
Tessa Baptiste is in the same room as me, and all I want to do is throw her over my shoulder and get the hell out of here.
My Tessa…
The pictures online don’t do her any justice. Her beauty can’t be captured with a lens. When I touched her hand, I almost broke and proposed again. Shit!
Who am I kidding? She hates me. But that’s temporary.
When Tessa stepped onto the stage, everything in me locked on to her like she was the only thing that existed. The music dulled to a distant hum, the crowd faded into a blur, and the heat of Crescent Hall had nothing on the fire roaring throughout my body.
Damn, I missed her.
I took her in like a man who’d been starving, and there she was—the feast I’d been craving. Her skin glowed under the dim lights, kissed golden by the New Orleans sun. That damn yellow bikini clung to her like it was stitched onto her body, accentuating curves I had memorized through whispers and stolen confessions. And those legs? Christ, I wanted them wrapped around me, squeezing, trembling.
She looked like sin and salvation, and every instinct I had screamed at me to take what was mine.
Then her eyes met mine, and the mask slipped for a second—just a second.
She felt it, too.
That connection—the one that had kept me up at night, haunted me through every decision, every sacrifice—was still there, pulsing between us like a live wire. She sucked in a breath, lips parting slightly like she was about to say my name. Like she remembered.
Then, like a switch flipping, her walls slammed back up.
She forced her features into something sharp, guarded. She was pissed, and I deserved it. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take my damn time dismantling that anger, piece by piece.
I let a slow smirk tug at my lips, drinking her in, knowing full well the effect I had on her. I saw it in the way her chest rose just a little faster, the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to touch me but hated herself for it. She loathed how much she still wanted me, and fuck if that wasn’t the best thing I had felt in months.
“Tessa,” I said, my voice low and smooth, letting the way I used to say her name seep back into my tone. Letting it wrap around her like the promises I fully intended to keep this time. “That yellow bikini is iconic, love. You wear it well.”
Her breath hitched—just slightly—but it was enough.
She stepped closer, reaching for the envelope in my hand, but I didn’t just hand it over. No, I needed more. I gripped her fingers, holding them between mine, absorbing her warmth. Her skin felt holy against me. The moment we touched, a charge zipped between us, snapping tight like a rope pulled too far.
She froze, just for a second. Just long enough for me to know that this—us—it wasn’t over. Not even close.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I murmured, my voice for her alone.
She trembled. I fucking felt it.
That softness, that split-second surrender, was right there, within reach. But then she ripped her hand away like my touch burned, and for the first time since I had laid eyes on her that night, I felt a sting of regret. Not for what I did—never for that—but for how deep I had to cut her to keep her safe.
Tessa is a logical creature; I learned that in the hub. For her to be on board with anything, it has to make sense and add up—dollars and cents, facts and reason. That’s my Tessa.
Me being here now? After months of searching for me all over the globe? Even I was impressed; she couldn’t go to London herself, but she hired a private investigator. Of course, he got nowhere fast. But I was honored she tried so hard. That means somewhere deep down, she had to know I wouldn’t just leave her for something trivial. She wouldn’t put all that effort in only to curse me out. That’s not her way.
Up until the moment we just locked eyes, she probably thought I was still somewhere in my home country of Britain, hiding out.
L ike I would ever put an ocean between us.
That wouldn’t make sense to her. She can’t fathom me. Being here. With her. For her. All this time.
So yeah, she’s pissed. But I saw it—the moment she felt it too, that unshakable pull between us. When she looked back over her shoulder, burning me to the ground, her eyes betrayed her.
I lingered in the shadows as she navigated the crowd. Her sister, whom Cecil had mentioned as Selene, led her upstairs to the VIP lounge. She vanished into the raised area, her curls bouncing as she walked, and I took a moment to breathe before choosing to follow her upstairs.
Because she’s mine.
Then I saw it.
She flinched and recoiled as some drunken idiot crowded her, leaning in like he had the right to be in her space.
Something dark and primal uncoiled inside me because the bastard was too close; his presence was staining the air around her, and I wanted to rip him away from her with my bare hands.
Then I heard him.
His voice was low and full of disgusting confidence. “Bet I could change your mind.”
And then the world stopped, and I decided I might have to kill a man tonight.
He didn’t see me come up behind Tessa; he was too busy TOUCHING her. So I swallowed my rage so I wouldn’t scar my sweetheart, and calmly let him know…
"You couldn’t change her mind if your life depended on it."
He still hasn’t backed away from Tessa. His smug little smirk grates against every instinct in my body. And Tessa—she’s rigid, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s pissed, uncomfortable. Trapped.
And that? That doesn’t fucking fly with me.
I step forward, slow and deliberate, ensuring the bastard feels every second of it. The smirk on his face flickers—just for a moment.
"Relax, man." His tone is all false confidence. "Just having a little fun."
I tilt my head slightly, sizing him up like I would an opponent on the pitch before I took him down. "Is that what you think this is"—my voice drops low, a razor’s edge—"fun?"
The air shifts. Heavy. Thick with something dangerous.
He feels it now.
His laugh is weak, forced. "Look, no harm done?—"
"You touched her," I cut in, my tone even, controlled. Lethal. "That’s harm."
He has the nerve to scoff. To shrug . Like he hasn’t just made the biggest mistake of his miserable life.
He sneers, stepping forward like a man too stupid or drunk to sense danger. “And who the hell are you to police me?”
I move closer, fists clenched at my sides, my voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “I’m the man who will knock you flat on your ass if you don’t step away from Tessa. Now.”
The room stills. The tension crackles like a summer storm, thick and suffocating.
The fool hesitates, his bravado faltering for half a second, but then his face twists with rage, and he charges.
His fists swing wildly, but he’s uncoordinated and sloppy. Predictable. I dodge with ease, my body moving on pure instinct. He stumbles, regains his footing, and comes at me again.
“Tessa, get back,” I bark, not daring to glance her way.
“Stop it, both of you!” she screams, her voice frantic, but it’s too late.
I’m locked in now.
He lunges, cursing under his breath, his movements reckless. I sidestep again, sending him stumbling forward. The dumb bastard is making this too easy.
He turns back, his arms outstretched to grab me, but I don’t give him the chance.
CRACK.
My fist meets his jaw in a brutal uppercut, the impact reverberating through my arm. His head snaps back, his body seizing for a split second before his knees buckle.
Then he drops.
Hard.
Out. Cold .
The whole room watches in stunned silence, eyes wide, mouths open. The music, the chatter, the hum of the party—all of it fades into a dull murmur beneath the weight of what just happened.
Selene is the first to react, rushing to Tessa’s side. "Tessa!" she gasps, gripping her sister’s arm.
Tessa steps closer, her wide eyes darting between me and the unconscious man at my feet. Her lips part, her chest rising and falling quickly. Shock. Worry. Something else.
“Is he…?” she starts.
“He’s fine,” I mutter, shaking out my hand and flexing my fingers. “Just out cold.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, and for a moment, there’s something raw between us—something heavy and undeniable.
She reaches out, just barely brushing her fingertips against mine. “Saul…” she whispers, so quiet I almost don’t hear it.
I exhale slowly, my pulse still thrumming with adrenaline. “You’re safe now.”
She shakes her head, stepping back, putting space between us. “Thank you,” she says, voice edged with something sharp. “But I had him under control. The violence wasn’t necessary.”
I tilt my head, barely restraining the growl clawing at my throat. “Not necessary?” I echo, glancing at the man’s unconscious form. “That bastard put his hands on you.”
Her lips press into a thin line, but I see the relief flickering in her eyes, how she liked being rescued—even if she won’t admit it.
And God help me, but I liked saving her.
Selene steps over his body, shaking her head. The man she came up to VIP with is long gone. “Tessa, are you kidding me? You couldn’t control him, and if I had known he was this disrespectful, I never would have dragged you up here.”
Tears well up in her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I should have listened to you.”
Tessa sighs and embraces her. “It’s alright. You weren’t aware of how terrible he could be because I never shared how he harassed me in high school. I felt too ashamed… believed I was somehow leading him on."
High school?
A new, burning rage licks up my spine.
“This fool was harassing you in high school?” I snap, my voice darker than I intended. This man doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
Both women look at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Maybe I have.
Tessa shoots me a glare sharp enough to kill a weaker man. “Chill, Tyson,” she snaps.
She turns back to the man’s unconscious body, and I’m pissed. Her eyes should be on me; he’s of no consequence. She contemplates something before shifting her gaze back to me. I hate the worry I see there. I want to smooth every crease from her brow with my lips.
"Look, Marcus,” she uses my fake name pointedly, flicking her eyes toward her sister, making it clear Selene does not know who I am.
“It’s already been a long night. We’re heading home, and you should probably get out of here before he wakes up. He’ll be pissed, and I don’t want to see you get into trouble over me.”
I frown. Trouble?
“I’m not scared of him.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Didn’t you see me lay his ass out?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Action Jackson, we all saw you, but do you even know who you knocked out?”
I don’t care.
I don’t give a single fuck who he is.
I step in closer, close enough to breathe her in. She smells like cherries and honey and everything I want to ruin in the best possible way.
And she doesn’t flinch like she did with him. She doesn’t shrink away.
Instead, she steps toward me.
That’s because she’s mine.
I brush the back of my knuckles over her arm, savoring how her breath catches. “No, sweetheart,” I murmur, voice rougher than I intend. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
Selene snorts. “You should care, Romeo, because he’s Antoine Dupree.”
I blink, my patience wearing thin. “Who?”
“The Chief of Police.”
I blink again.
Tessa exhales dramatically.
Selene crosses her arms.
I stare down at the man I just knocked unconscious.
Then, finally, I drag my gaze back to Tessa and deadpan, “Well… shit.”