12. Saint
12
SAINT
I ’m sick to my stomach because even though I'm doing this to help, I know I'm betraying Zane and Vani. Hell, probably Lex too. The more I think about things, though, the more I believe my plan is a good one. It's not just that I need to convince Angelica I've given her what she wants, but as I've thought about things, I've realized I can get more information out of her this way. It's risky, and the main problem is that the others might not believe me when I tell them I haven't slept with her. But, if they don't trust me on this, do we even have a future?
Do I want us to have a future?
This is the first time in my life I've ever thought about something long term, and it scares the fuck out of me. Still, the main thing that matters to me right now is getting my brother back. Lex is everything to me, and not only because he's my twin. I honestly believe that without him to anchor me, I'll lose it and become nothing but an amoral creature of rage.
Lex is always the one who pulls me back when I go too far. He's a small voice of reason that stops me from doing things I won't be able to come back from. And it's not as if Lex is a good guy either, so shows exactly how depraved I am when he's my conscience.
If there is anything rattling around in that stupid head of Angelica’s that can help me find him quicker, then I will do all I can to knock it loose. Literally, if I must.
I've taken a shower and finished styling my hair. I splash on some aftershave, not the kind you can buy in any department store, but a niche fragrance. It cost over three hundred dollars for this bottle, and it was worth every penny. I've had girls stop me in the hallways of this college just to ask what scent I'm wearing. I'm pulling out all the stops for Angelica tonight, because I'm going to make her think she's getting exactly what she wants.
It still blows my mind that she wants a night with me so badly that she'll blackmail me for it. The more I thought about it, the more it's made me realize that if she'll do this, she'll do anything.
Even worse, she's supposed to be a good friend of Vani’s, and yet she's propositioning me behind her back. I always knew the girl was a snake, but I didn't realize how two-faced she truly is.
I pull on a pair of leather trousers and grab one of my favorite shirts. It's from Hermes, and I think Angelica will appreciate that I'm wearing my finest for her.
I grab a bag and thank God that anyone seeing me with the designer bag slung around my waist will assume it's part of me being such a fashion victim. It’s actually an intrinsic part of my plan for the evening. I unzip the waist bag and check the contents. In a small bottle are a number of white pills, and I check to make sure I have enough.
Two to three should knock her out with some wine. I have a bottle of white, but it’s strong stuff. It's almost as strong as a dessert wine, and I'm going to drink hardly any of it, except I'll make it look as if I'm drinking a lot. I’ll encourage Angelica to do so too.
I check my watch and realize it's early, but I want to get this over with, so I message Angelica. Are you OK if I come over now?
I like an enthusiastic man . Her reply comes almost instantly.
I shudder at her response, because the girl gives me the creeps. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for playing games, and toxicity, but she's crazy, and not in a good way. There's something so insecure and needy about Angelica, when you strip away the outer layers, that it makes her distinctly unappealing to a man like me.
I like degradation, but I like to have to work for it. Take Vani. She’s feisty, but she lets me say bad things to her if I get her horny enough, but only then.
I can picture Angelica simply letting me say anything. She likes to act as if she's the tough, popular girl, but deep down, she's an insecure mess. I bet I could walk into that room and tell her to crawl around like a dog for me and she’d do it willingly. Where's the fun in that?
That's the deliciousness of the games we play with Vani. I get her to do things because deep down she wants it, but she’ll fight against her depraved desires. She’s a bundle of contradictions—the good girl covered in tattoos. The body made for sin, except then we discovered she was a virgin before she came to us. She’ll hold back until I've got her so riled up she can't think straight, and then she’ll unravel with such intensity, it’s incredible. It’s as though she was made for us.
Yes, maybe I am sick, but at least I know myself. I don't think Angelica knows herself at all. I don't think Angelica has any idea of the depths she'd go to for me if I just clicked my fingers. And that, right there, is exactly why she does nothing for me. Well, that and the fact that Venom has taken up all the space in my brain, and there's no room for me to think about any other woman.
I grab the bottle of wine from the counter and head to the door, closing it softly behind me. In the hall, I pass a couple of students and give them a brief nod, not wanting to act any different than usual. Most of the college don’t know about Lex, and I'd like to keep it that way until I've got more information from Angelica. At that point, I can decide whether we need to take this up with the dean, but for now I need more information.
When I reach Angelica’s room, I raise my hand to knock, but it swings open as if she's been waiting for me on the other side. There's that desperation I find so off-putting all over again. I hide my distaste and smile at her. I let my gaze run leisurely down her body as I take her in. She's gone to a lot of effort. Her hair is shiny, her makeup is polished, and her clothes show off her figure to perfection. She's objectively a very attractive woman, but she can't hold a candle to our Venom. The girl with the wild hair, and the big brown eyes, and the terrible taste in music—she's the girl who owns every part of me right now.
Angelica steps back and welcomes me into the room. Her scent hits me as I walk through the door, and I pause. It’s the exact perfume Vani wears, and a trickle of unease runs down my spine. What game is Angelica playing? What game is she playing with me, my fellow Vipers, and most of all, our Venom?
She reaches out and, with perfectly manicured fingers, gently touches my shirt. She licks her lips, gazing up at me. Her fingers slide over the silk, up my arm, across my shoulder, and onto my chest. I slam my hand over hers just as it’s about to slip inside my shirt. I halt her progress, and her eyes flash with anger, so I lean in and brush my lips against her cheek.
I murmur, “Let's have some wine and chat a little first. I want this to be a seduction, not over within thirty minutes.”
She narrows her eyes but surprises me when she says, “I was going to wait until after we fucked to talk, Saint. I've waited a long time for this.”
I make light of it and grin at her. “So, you just want me for my body?”
“Not only your body, but your depravity. I know exactly how you play, Saint, because you did so with one of my friends.”
I almost take a step back at that because it means she knows I normally do this with Lex, but she asked only for me. “You know, then, that most of the time when I play this way, it’s with my brother, right?”
“Yes,” she says and tilts her head to one side as she watches me. “I don't want him here, though. Isn't he the one who offers all the comfort afterward? I don't want that. He’s boring. But you, you deliciously broken boy, are my idea of fun.”
Broken. Boy. With those two words, she makes it quite clear that she’s wanting me at my very worst. I'm so glad I brought the pills with me because I think things are about to take a strange turn.
“If you're going to whisper sweet nothings like that in my ear,” I say, “we really need the wine. Do you have any glasses?”
She opens the cupboard and pulls out two, and I have to tamp down my smirk. Of course they are crystal. Who has the finest crystal glasses in their college dorm? It's such a pretentious thing to do. I might flounce around the college in my designer clothes, but even I don't have crystal glassware in my room. They’d be broken the minute there’s any kind of party.
I pour us both a glass then take a seat on the couch that runs along the back wall of the room. Angelica has one of the larger rooms families can pay for if they wish. It's not quite as grand as some of them, but it's definitely not the plain and simple dorm many of us have. She takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch and tucks her feet under herself. She watches me, sipping her wine. Her eyes continuously assess me over the rim of her glass, and I feel like a specimen in a petri dish.
“You know,” she says conversationally, “we all understand that at some point, for somebody like me, the end game is getting married.”
I nod and take a small sip of my own wine, unsure where this is going. She mentioned marriage in the library, too.
“I don't want to get married,” she says. “Certainly not to a man who thinks he owns me and wants me for nothing more than to bear him children. That's not how I see my future. I want freedom.” She tucks a silky strand of her hair behind her ear and pauses before she blurts, “I like you, a lot.”
Her cheeks flush, and I think there’s some truth in that for sure. How long has she been crushing on me? She’s only ever acted as though she hated me.
She continues, “But I’ve been thinking—and here's the thing, Saint—the games you and your brother play? You can't keep playing them forever. Your family will expect you to get married and produce heirs. You can't both marry the same woman, because you'll be disowned by your family, or worse.”
She doesn't have to say what the worst will mean because it's a well-known fact that very few mafia clans would accept a polyamorous lifestyle amongst their heirs. I think my father would rather Lex and I be dead than have the shame of that stain the family name.
Somehow, the Devils have made it work, but I know it wasn’t easy, and it resulted in Kirill’s father dying. I don’t know the full truth about what went down, but word is it was bloody and violent. Of course, Dean Rossi is aware of their romantic situation, but is Tino’s family? It’s none of my business, but I doubt it. If Tino ever needs to take over from his father one day, I expect there will be some more than difficult conversations. Maybe there will even be more bloodshed.
Angelica hasn’t finished, and I tear my thoughts away from the Devils to focus on what she’s saying.
“I like you, Saint,” she repeats, her lower lip jutting out in a pout which I’m sure she thinks is cute. “I have a proposal. I think you and your brother will always need to play together. It’s a sickness within you that you can't conquer, or you already would have.”
My finger tightens around the glass, and I want to smash it over her head, but instead I give a casual shrug of one shoulder, making sure I look completely bored by what she's saying. I won't let her get under my skin.
“If you and I were to make a pact, and we got married, I wouldn't stop you doing whatever you wanted. All I would ask is that you kept it quiet. And discreet. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to have the kind of life your father would want for you, but in reality, you keep living your own life the way you want.”
“And what do you get out of this?” I ask.
I hate to say it, but on one level, she's correct. Marrying someone like Angelica who is offering me a deal, where I’m able to carry on my depravity on the side, would be a perfect solution. There's only one problem. One petite, curly haired, curvy-as-sin problem.
Vani.
“I'd get freedom,” Angelica says, “and when we’re together, we could enjoy each other’s company. We could be seriously hot together, Saint. You and I could be a power couple. We’d take over the world. Besides, you're the only guy I've come across who I could ever imagine having any kind of deal like this with.” She takes more of her wine and swallows, and then she looks at me, and there's an odd vulnerability in her gaze. “It’s a good offer, Saint.”
Everything that's happened in this room since I arrived has blindsided me. I thought she'd beg me to take her to bed, and that that would be the end of it, but instead she's offering me so much more. Sadly, I don't want anything she could ever offer. Not anymore.
She offers me a small smile. “Think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Excuse me.”
She stands and heads into the bathroom. I hear water running, and it's my chance. I reach into my man bag, open the pill bottle, and empty two of the little white pills into my hand, before dropping them in her wine and swirling the glass around as they dissolve.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out, seeing Vani’s picture light up the screen. It’s a photo I snapped of her fast asleep one of the nights I was in her room, spending quality time with her. I can’t talk to her now, even though I’m dying to ask how her ass is, so I cut the call and turn my phone off. I hear Angelica running the water and shove my phone back in my pocket. I’ll call Vani later, and she can fill me in. Maybe I’ll make her play with herself while we talk. The thought makes me smile, but then I hear Angelica cough in the bathroom, and the sound is cold ice on my libido.
When she gets back into the room, I hand the wine back, and she takes a couple more big sips. It's as if she's used a lot of false bravado to make her deal with me and now she needs the wine. I gladly top up her glass and smile as she drinks some more. The more wine she has, the quicker the pills will work.
“I'll consider your offer,” I tell her, hoping it’ll buy me time.
She nods. “That doesn't mean tonight doesn't happen, though. I still want you, Saint. My deal is separate to this evening.”
This is such a head fuck. Everything is so strange. I’m off kilter, and I can't make myself think clearly. Half of me is missing, and he’s my voice of reason. It means I’m flying solo, probably the first time in my life when it comes to making such big, serious decisions. Still, I can't go back on my plan now because she's just swallowed at least half the second glass of wine, and those pills will be kicking in very soon.
She smiles at me, and it's a bit sloppy, just that little bit messy, and I smile in return because the drug is beginning to work its way through her system. She lifts her hand and dusts her finger across the cut on my lip.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
I shake my head.
She inches closer, gazing up at me, cheeks flushed, her intent clear. “Good.”
I lean in and kiss her hard, smearing her lipstick as I do. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back. Pain from my split lip spikes through me, but I ignore it. I deserve the pain. It's so strange to have a different woman's lips on my mouth after so much time with Vani, and my body recoils. I swear my cock actually shrivels and retracts inside my body. I fight every instinct not to push her away. I know this in itself could be seen as cheating by the others, but I'm not viewing it that way. I do not want to do this. My body and mind are completely checked out, and I'm just planning my next move. I only want this kiss so when Angelica wakes up tomorrow with her lipstick all over her face, she'll assume something happened between us.
I break this kiss and pull back and pretend I'm breathing heavily as if I'm overwhelmed with lust for her.
She gives a little moan and reaches for me, but I grab her hands and hold her wrists together. “Before we go any further,” I say, “tell me what you know about Jarl Olsen.”
The wine and the drugs are working too fast for me to get much out of her now. Her gaze is unfocused, and her lips keep flipping between a smirk and a pout. Her head lolls a little to one side and her eyelids flutter shut and then open again as though she’s struggling to stay awake.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she whines. “It’s boring.”
“Just tell me, how well do you know him?”
“Not that well, but he trusted me because I was Reagan’s friend.” Then she leans in dramatically. “Or so he thinks.”
I freeze. “You weren’t Reagan’s friend?”
She scoffs. “Hell, no. Stuck up bitch. You liked her, though, huh? You liked her a lot. How come you keep picking women way less pretty than me, Saint? Huh? We could be such a perfect power couple in our world, but you keep picking the na?ve, ugly girls.”
“Ugly?” The word pops out before I can stop it. I’m not thinking about Reagan but Vani.
“Yeah, Reagan was sooooo boring, and Vani is trashy and fat.”
My blood boils. “You are supposed to be her friend. Do you talk about all your friends that way?”
She scoffs. “She is my friend, silly, but I’m honest. I noticed you on my first day.” She holds up one finger. “ Day one , and yet you ignored me for all these lesser girls.”
“What happened with Reagan? Do you know?” I ask urgently.
I picture myself taking this information back to Vani, and what a hero that will make me in her eyes. All Vani ever wanted to know was what happened to Reagan, and now I suspect Angelica knows more than she’s let on. Did she say or do something that made Reagan jump? Surely she’s not capable of such a thing?
But her eyes are rolling back in her head. “This wine is strong,” she slurs.
I sigh, because just as I’m about to ask her again, she passes out, slumping against the back of the couch.
“Angelica.” I lightly slap her face, and her eyes flicker.
She smiles softly and murmurs, “I took care of the problem.”
What?
“Angelica?” What the fuck did she mean by that? I give her a shake, but she’s completely out of it.
Fuck. My plan has gone the way I intended it to, but Angelica was about to tell me so much that I needed to know, and now she’s unconscious. Merde.
I glance at my watch. Okay, it’s nearly seven in the evening, so I need to get back to my room to try to call Zane and Vani. I’ve kept my part of the bargain so far as Angelica is concerned.
I strip her of her clothes, leaving her underwear on, and put her into bed. I cover her so she doesn’t freeze to death. Then I leave some water and pain pills on the nightstand.
My dealer friend said the drugs she’s been given won’t show in any tests, so she’ll never be able to prove anything. I’ll tell her she got drunk, we screwed, and then I put her to bed.
I spot her iPad and phone and hesitate. Should I take them with me? I could borrow them for a few hours and do some research into Angelica and who she’s been talking to.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I consider my options. If Angelica is hiding something, she’s most likely going to have a passcode on both her phone and iPad, unless she’s using a fingerprint or face ID.
Experimentally, I pick up her cell and hold it to her face. Dammit. It wants a passcode, just as I’d suspected. She doesn’t even have a fingerprint option set up. I could take them with me and try to crack the code, but if she wakes and discovers them gone, she might tell Jarl, and that could risk my brother’s life.
I shake my head and step away. As much as I want to learn more, I believe she’s given me enough.
If Angelica is this paranoid, it means she has something to hide.