Chapter 4
London was beautiful at night. All the lights and noises. How the buildings reflected against the River Thames like twinkling fairy lights strung up on a string.
It felt magical, the air full of possibilities.
We walked along the river until Saint guided us down a little alley that no light touched, only the stars.
In the darkness, I reached out and grabbed his hand. Our fingers didn’t entwine, but we held hands like childhood friends, palms together.
He walked us down the alley with the ease and confidence of a person who knew exactly where he was going.
I loved being outside. Unlike the rest of my family who preferred the comforts of air conditioning, I would spend hours, if not the whole day, outside. From skateboarding to reading under trees with my toes in the grass.
There was something about connecting with nature that calmed me.
Plus, the more time I was outside, the less I’d have to be in a cold, quiet house where memories of my mother were forgotten.
My jaw dropped when we reached the end of the alley and ended up on a quiet little street with tall trees and brick row houses. We walked along the sidewalk, no longer holding hands but walking close enough for our arms to touch.
Saint was so tall compared to me, even with my combat boots adding an inch or two to my five-foot-five frame. He still towered above me.
“What’re we doing here?” This was beautiful, sure, but when I asked him to show me his London, I expected something more…well, exciting.
“Anyone ever teach you patience?” He gave me a glance.
“Ever met my father? The man has zero patience.”
He chuckled, but it quickly died off. “I’m sorry about how Archer ditched you for him.”
“Why? I’m not.” And I wasn’t. Not anymore. “You’re much better company than Archer.”
This time when Saint laughed, it was more genuine, full-bodied. “Shit, you’re good for my ego.”
I ducked my head to hide the smile on my lips as my insides soared.
“I didn’t know you were here,” I admitted to him once the flutters in my stomach settled.
I kept my gaze down, trained on my scuffed boots as we walked.
“I wasn’t even sure if I was going to text you.”
His gaze burned into the side of my face. Studying, waiting, watching.
“I didn’t want to ruin your last night in London, to make you feel like you had to come babysit me.” I still wasn’t looking at him, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth open to say something.
I didn’t give him the chance. “Maybe I should say sorry, that I probably ruined your night, but I’m not. Not even a little. This is the best birthday I’ve had, Saint. So I’m glad you said yes.”
I got a couple steps ahead before I realized Saint was no longer walking next to me. I stopped, turning around to see him under a tree. He was wearing an unreadable expression.
Quickly, I rushed over to him. “Oh my God, I ruined your night, didn’t I? You didn’t really want to do this.” I covered my mouth with my hands to stifle my groan. Oh, God.
Saint silently reached out to move my hands away, not letting them go as he brought them to my sides.
He stepped closer, that unreadable expression still on his face as he whispered, “I’m glad you asked me, Madelayne. There is no place I’d rather be right now.”
I stared up at him, lost in his eyes, searching for words to save me, but Saint didn’t wait for me to get there.
He jerked his chin to keep walking and I trailed after him, almost dazed while his words stuck with me.
At the end of the street, Saint hung a right and we came to this little square of shops and restaurants.
A street musician strummed a guitar next to the fountain in the middle of it all, getting lost in the music.
Saint and I stopped walking to take everything in. People sat on patios of restaurants with drinks and desserts, young couples walked hand in hand down the sidewalks while others danced to the soulful guitar.
“I used to live in that flat,” Saint told me, pointing to the building on top of a pub. “After I graduated from college.”
“I remember.” He sent me a postcard of his street, the very apartment we were looking at was circled in a big fat black marker.
Saint sent me postcards every month while he lived here.
I was so upset the day he moved away for college. Angry at Honeycutt for chasing him away.
I felt abandoned. Forgotten.
Trapped in that gilded cage I was desperate to escape from.
I still remembered the emptiness in my chest as Saint said goodbye.
After my mom died, I was afraid to let people in, which probably explained why I went to school with the same people since kindergarten and only called a select few friends, even keeping those people at a distance.
The only person who got through those defenses, that wall and moat I put up, was Saint.
And he left me, just like my mom did.
“It’s in that flat that your brother and I came up with the idea for our company.”
I nodded, remembering hearing about it months later when Saint moved back home.
It was at Sunday dinner where the boys told my dad of their idea and plan to launch the business. I spent the entire dinner silent at the far end of the table, listening to Saint regale my father with the details of London.
I also remembered how I strained my ears, listening for talks of a girlfriend. Of someone who was warming his bed. He never mentioned one, which made my heart soar.
I was far too young to have an opinion on who Saint dated, but even if I knew it wasn’t going to be me, I still wished it was.
And now we were here, in a romantic square where he was looking down at me with an intensity that stole my breath and had me backing up a step.
It was a look that cracked me open, where he reached in to touch all the pieces inside me that existed for him.
He was too much. Overpowering, domineering.
I wanted to run away and jump into his arms all at the same time. Nerves racked my body as I took another step back.
He raised a brow and followed.
“Why are we here, Saint?”
“You asked to see my London.” He looked around. “This is it.”
It was quiet and romantic and everything I didn’t associate with Saint. Who was this man in London and how different was he from the man who ruled in Atlanta?
“Madelayne—”
“I want to dance,” I blurted.
He blinked, then stepped aside, ushering me toward where the musician played. “Then dance.”
I started to move when I realized he wasn’t following. “You’re not coming?”
“I don’t dance.” His arms crossed over his chest, his suit jacket pulling around his shoulders.
Feeling Saint’s eyes on me, I swished my hips a little more.
He was the sin I wanted to commit, the greatest offense to sleep with my brother’s best friend.
I liked the idea of danger, the thrill of taboo.
He was everything I shouldn’t want, everything I should avoid, and that only made me want to sink my nails into him harder.
At least for a night, I wanted him to be mine.
Saint made me nervous, but nerves could be good. The kick in the ass a person needed to go after what they wanted. If nerves didn’t flutter in your gut, it wouldn’t matter.
And Saint mattered.
To me, he always did.
He was watching me now with a mix of fascination and bemusement, like he couldn’t figure out why he found the swaying of my hips as fascinating as he did, why he was watching me without wanting to look away.
Why he couldn’t look away.
Maybe it wasn’t in my head earlier.
Maybe I wasn’t making something out of nothing.
I spun around between the dancing couples as the musician changed gears, switching tempos on a song.
Gone was the slow moonlit tunes and in its place was the beat to one of my favorite songs.
Catching Saint’s eye, I noticed he moved closer. I crooked my finger at him as I softly sang along to the lyrics.
Join me, dance with me, touch me.
He shook his head, a smirk taking shape on his sharp, angular face.
I frowned, going to where he stood. Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, I moved them with a shimmy.
Like getting a stiff board to bend, he didn’t move.
“Saint.” I pressed into his body as the first raindrop fell, hitting right below my eye.
Saint caught it on his thumb as it rolled down my cheek.
It was the only warning we got before the skies opened fire.
Rain poured harder than earlier, harsher. Droplets fell like bullets. It was as if the heavens opened up to punish us before any sin could be committed.
I flinched in pain. This was not the kind of rain I liked to stand in, where it fell like sheets from the sky, making it impossible to see.
My white dress was soaked and boots flooded before we so much as made a single move.
Saint looked unaffected under the attack. If anything, a crease formed between his brows in annoyance.
He was annoyed by Mother Nature, but still took time to take care of me.
Saint shucked off his suit jacket to wrap it around my shoulders, concealing my now see-through dress before pulling me by the wrist to the nearest awning.
It was a tight squeeze and not enough to keep the rain off us completely. We stood huddled against the wall, my arms pulled to my chest, as Saint held me to his body.
I couldn’t stop shivering, it was so, so cold, and my teeth were starting to rattle together.
Saint pressed closer, trying to warm me up with no avail. His hands moved up and down my arms, my back. His touch strong and sure.
I closed my eyes and focused on it, searching for warmth. On him, searching for heat.
“Mady. Eyes on me, please.” Saint’s voice was calm, while his brows furrowed in concern, honing in on my wavering lips.
A dark look touched his features before telling me we had to make a run for it if we wanted to get a cab.
I nodded, even though I’d much prefer to stay against the wall with Saint’s body wrapped around me.
He took my wrist again and pulled me into the rain.
It hadn’t let up. If anything, it was coming down harder now.
At one point, I slipped and almost ate it on the sidewalk, but Saint caught me, pulling me upright. His hand slipped into mine, I held on tight.
We ran and ran until we hit a street bustling with taxis.
Saint hailed one within seconds, pushing me in with his hand firmly on the small of my back as he told the driver the hotel I was staying at.
I barely heard him. The shivering had now taken over my body causing my teeth to chatter to the point of pain. It was so overwhelming I barely felt the weighted disappointment of knowing this night was soon to be over.
Saint slid in close and pulled me to his chest, warming me up the best he could with a body just as soaked as mine. I was becoming more frozen by the second. Burying my head into Saint’s chest, a low moan escaped.
He barked at the cabbie to crank the heat up before whispering something I couldn’t hear above the knocking of my teeth, but the sound of his voice was soothing enough as warm air blasted our skin.
Soon my body was defrosting and slowly, I picked my head up.
Finding him.
Saint was soaked as much as I was, but looked woefully unaffected.
His dark locks had deepened to ink. That sinful gleam in his eyes was now replaced with apprehension as his arms remained strong around me. Keeping me close.
My fingers yearned to touch his face, to press our foreheads together.
I didn’t. I didn’t move.
I could do nothing but stare. That was all I was allowed to do.
Saint watched me with concern, mouthing, are you okay?
I could be honest and say yes, but instead, I shook my head and his arms tightened around me.
I basked in the bliss of his hold, wondering what was going to happen when we reached my hotel room. What kind of goodbye we were going to have.
I held him a little tighter for the rest of the cab ride.
For the second time tonight, I had been caught in a rainstorm, my clothes suctioned to my skin. And I couldn’t bring myself to care.
It brought me to this moment, Saint escorting me through the hotel with his hand on the small of my back. Though I swore he was following with reservation, as if he shouldn’t be walking me to my hotel room.
My steps were soggy as we walked down the hallway to my room, a little more unsure than when we entered the lobby. My bones still felt chilled, stiff from the rain.
Each step I took in my boots felt heavier than the last, thanks to all the water they drank up. They were so heavy that when we hit my floor, I lost my balance and went careening toward the wall.
Saint reached out to catch me, steadying me, leaving his hands on my shoulders as we finished the trek to the room.
My skin hummed under his touch, the only part of my cold body that felt warm.
When we got to my door, I hesitated to unlock it. Instead, I spun around to give Saint a hug he didn’t see coming. My feet left the ground as my arms wrapped around his neck.
He stumbled back a step before his arms found a home around my waist.
“Thank you for coming out with me tonight.” I squeezed my arms tighter around his neck. “This really was the best birthday.”
He set me back on the ground and I gently unwound my arms. “You’ll have other great birthdays, Madelayne.”
“But none will ever be my Golden Year again.”
He tilted his head to the side, confused.
“You know, the year you turn the same age as the day you were born. It’s supposed to be your luckiest year.”
His lips quirked into a small smile, amused. “Well, I hope this year is everything you wish it to be, Madelayne.”
I mumbled a thanks, not liking how he was moments away from walking away. Once he did, I’d be alone again.
Unless…
Saint slipped the hotel key out of my hand and unlocked the door before giving it back to me.
I could see the goodbye on his face. Gone was the expression he wore when he watched me dance in the street. It washed away in the rain.
Still, if he looked at me like that once, he could again.
Just as he was about to turn away, I reached out and grabbed his tie.
He paused as I raised a brow and stepped backward into my room, taking his tie with me.
I waited, my heartbeat pounding with the might of a sledgehammer as he stared at me with a hard, unreadable expression.
He was going to pull away, I just knew it.
And just when I was about to let go of his tie, no longer feeling bold or brave, Saint Delacore shocked the hell out of me as he stepped over the threshold into my hotel room and the door slammed shut behind him.
Trapping us inside.