CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SAINT
Asoft groan escapes my lips when I roll over on the couch. My hand instinctively moves against the leather, searching for that familiar warmth. I can’t find it. He left. Of course, he left.
My eyes flicker to the morning sunlight pouring in through the window.
I grunt and sit up, looking around the empty house.
A hollow feeling sits on my chest. Thirty-eight years of my life, I have never wanted something real.
It’s absolutely terrifying. It’s terrifying that a part of me still aches for him even though we spent the entire night together in each other’s arms. That I want to wake up to the scent of him pouring into my lungs.
That I want to hold him close, even for a few more minutes, before he returned to his apartment.
I regain my footing and rub my hands along my face in pure frustration. I stride over to where I’d left my phone last night. I pick it and tap on the message icon, finding his new phone number.
Me: Hi, good morning. How are you?
Three dots appear, bouncing on my screen, then disappear almost immediately. I shut off my screen and toss the phone onto the couch, heading upstairs to take a shower.
Was he still terrified of what happened last night? I didn’t want to hurt him. And I’d never lay my hands on him the way I did when we had a contract. Hell, I don’t even know how to have sex with someone without attaching lack of intimacy to it. Maybe I’m not the right person for him.
He’s better off with someone else. Some guy who isn’t the successor of a dangerous mafia syndicate. A guy who hasn’t tainted his soul with blood, who isn’t terrified of truly going after what he wants.
When I exit the shower, I put on some black shorts and head downstairs to the study.
I spend my time looking through the contract.
I had set up an appointment with my sister at the office to discuss the contract.
She had a master’s degree in law and finance had always looked through everything we signed under the company’s name.
After a while, I pick up my phone and look at Mason’s chat again.
Still on fucking read.
Is he avoiding me? I mean, if he is, then that means last night meant nothing to him.
I let out a frustrated grunt and leave my study.
I’m too focused on my phone that I don’t know when a thick black fabric goes over my head, tossing me into darkness.
I struggle to fight off the intruders, but there isn’t just one of them.
When the cold steel muzzle of a gun kisses the back of my head, my body goes still.
Shit!
Is Cyrus fucking with me again?
“Stay still, asshole.” A deep voice thunders as he pulls my hand back and ties me up.
They drag me out of my apartment to the parking lot.
They toss me into the trunk of their vehicle and drive into the city.
Loud hip-hop music thumps from the speaker of the car as they drive around the city.
Tires hum aimlessly against the asphalt until it comes to a screeching halt.
It doesn’t take long, and they haul me out of the car and drag me into a building.
The thick black fabric slips over my face, and my eyes widen in absolute shock when I see my siblings standing in front of me. There are a few other people here, too. Some friends of my brothers. “Surprise!” They cheer.
They brought me to the Sovereign. There’s only one motherfucker who’d do this, and it’s my cousin, Syn.
I blink at them.
What’s happening?
Olivia stares at me, mouth agape. Her smile slowly fades when she steps forward. “It’s your birthday, idiot.”
Virgil appears from the small crowd and tosses a shirt and some pants onto my chest. “And this was Cross and Sinclair’s idea.”
Of course, it’s them. Always at the crime scene.
“Happy Birthday.” Cross approaches me with a malicious grin. I throw my hand around his shoulder and lock him against my grip, pulling him chest to chest.
“Thank you, little brother.” I let him go, and I slap a pat on Virgil’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He nods in response. “Come here, Olivia.” I open my hands for a hug. She steps into my embrace, and I press a kiss on her temple. “Thank you for this.”
I can’t remember the last time I celebrated my birthday, at least not in this grand kidnapping style. I head into Syn’s office and shut the door behind me. I’m supposed to feel this light happiness, but a concave ache settles in my chest.
I smile through the tumultuous emotions, sliding my legs into the trousers and buttoning up my shirt. When I finish, I turn around and grab the door handle, opening it to the party.
My heart crashes against my ribcage when my eyes land on the guy standing at the glass entrance of the building. “Fuck me.” I whisper to myself. He’s here. I didn’t expect this, but of course, if Syn pulled this off, he’d fucking make sure he got him here.
When he sees me, his eyes light up with excitement. There’s a little box in his hand, wrapped in red gift paper. I breathe in slowly, wearing a smile just as Sinclair approaches me. My eyes are still on him even as he takes a seat in the corner booth.
“The man’s here. Party’s ready.” He circles over to the counter and fishes a bottle of red wine from the bar as if he’s found a special treasure that’s been hidden for hundreds of years. “I know how you love your wine, so I got you something.”
I approach the counter, and he hands the bottle to me. “Thank you.” I look over my shoulder, unable to keep my eyes off him.
“Go to him.”
“It’s complicated, Sinclair.” I sigh and bow my head in shame.
“Just go to him first,” he pats my back. “We’ll talk later.”
I pick up the bottle of wine and move toward him through the rising party.
Seeing me, he straightens up and relaxes against the leather booth.
He’s nervous. Of course, he is. I slide into the booth opposite him.
Our knees touch under the table, sending a frightful tinge down my spine.
I put the bottle of wine on the table separating us.
“I’m sorry I left early.” He apologizes, and he stretches his hand to me, but I don’t take it.
I can’t. Shame presses against my chest from every corner.
I’m not quite ready for everyone to know about this part of me.
I lean back against the booth and let out a sigh.
He notices my reaction and chews on his bottom lip.
“I got you a gift.” He slides the gift box to me. “Open it.”
I take the box and tear through the wrapping paper.
My body itches with excitement as I open it and find a silver necklace suspended by the letter SK.
“I saw it at the store and thought it would be perfect for you. I mean, it’s not that expensive, but I really hope you like it.
Syn told me he was throwing you a birthday party in a non-conventional way.
He basically invited me, and I had to stop by. ”
“I love it.” I interrupt his rambling. “Thank you so much.” I can’t remember the last time I got a gift with so much thought put into it.
I loved it. And I’d fucking love it if I could kiss him right now, but kissing him here…
I’m not sure everyone would be comfortable with that.
I bite my bottom lip and look up at him. “Thank you, Mason. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. Happy Birthday, Saint.”
I’m thirty-nine. I’ve spent my entire fucking life trying to please the man who birthed me. I don’t even know who I am. I can’t even wrap my head around what I feel for Mason. This makes everything really complicated, but maybe I can figure it out. Maybe I can fight for what I want.
“Happy Birthday to you…” The crowd approaches the table in a sing-song voice. My sister drops the red velvet birthday cake on the table. A soft chuckle escapes my lips as they sing for me. My heart swells with fulfillment, and I blow out the candles when the song ends.
“Thank you.”
“Come on, make a wish,” Cross says.
“I think wishes are too old for me. I’m almost forty.”
“Thirty-nine, but still.” Olivia shrugs with mild laughter.
I cut the cake and take a bite after I’ve put it on the paper plate. I cut one for Mason, too, and gently pass it to him.
“Thank you.”
Cross takes the cake to another table and the attendants with him.
“Do you want to come home with me tonight? Think about it,” I tell him, and he nods, tight-lipped. “I need to speak to my cousin.”
“Of course.”
As I approach the counter, Syn pours himself a glass of brandy. He takes a sip and sets it down on the table. “The birthday guy.” He jests.
“I didn’t even remember my birthday.” I scoff and shake my head. “Thank you.”
“Anything for my big cousin.” He grins and winks at me. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“Um, I have questions.” I look behind me and see Mason perched on the booth and staring out the transparent glass wall. “I want something different from meaningless sex.”
“And you’re coming to me?”
“You have been open about your sexuality, so I figured you’d be the best person to talk to.”
“Well, yes. I have had my fair share of intense, mind-numbing sex, but that part of me has ended because I’m getting married in two weeks.” He declares. “What do you want to know, Saint?”
“I want to have sex differently. I don’t want it to be just about our bodies.”
“Look, the first thing you want to do is get their trust. Ask him what he wants. Be present. Touch. Feel. Explore.”
His words don’t make sense at all. The last time I looked into Mason’s eyes, something had undone inside of me. I don’t think I can trust myself doing that with him. Not when the memories of all the ways I have taken from other men linger at the back of my mind.
“Or you can give yourself to him.” He suggests with a smirk.
“What?”
“Yes. Let him make love to you.”
“But I have never…”
“Well, you can try. Just trust yourself. Let yourself soak up the moment.”
I have never trusted myself or felt in the moment.
It had always been about satisfying my cravings.
My sickness. Nothing more or less. A contract keeps all emotions at arm’s length.
Letting myself feel the moments mean I have to face the shadows I have been running from.
I have to look past the consumption. Because it never served me. It only depleted me.
The party goes on until midnight, then I meet Mason outside the building, waiting for his ride. Inches apart, I release a nerve-racking sigh. “I know I asked you to come home with me tonight, but I need some time for myself.”
“Of course, anything you want. We’ll meet at the office.”
“Sure.” I nod with a smile and take his hand, pulling him to myself and embracing him tightly. I don’t let him go. I don’t want to. Hell, I want us to stay here together, wrapped in the heat of each other’s bodies until morning.
“Saint, my ride just arrived.”
“Can’t you just come home with me?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Maybe next time.” I hum and let him go.
“Goodnight.” He waves at me, and he jogs to the car.
Cross drops me off at the parking lot, and I head upstairs to my apartment. My thoughts race with Syn’s words. Confusion sinks its claws deep into me. I try to push those thoughts away, to bury them in a box, but the voices in my head only get louder.
I’m not sure I can escape this anymore.
I can no longer compartmentalize the shame I have carried my whole life. Shame that my father had seeded into my heart. I stride hurriedly to my dressing room, stripping myself bare in front of the large mirror.
I stare at my reflection. The white and black ink on my skin. The scars and bullet wounds. The humiliation and the fierce need to live in denial of who I am.
“I’m a homosexual,” I whisper to myself, but I don’t even believe it. Not for a fucking moment. “I’m a homosexual. I’m a homosexual.” Pure terror ravages my voice. I come apart from watching myself in the mirror. The truth chips away at pieces of myself. I have never voiced those words.
I hide behind lies.
I hide behind contracts.
I hide behind the fear of losing everything.
“I’m a homosexual.” I fall to my knees next to my clothes. I pull out my phone from my pocket and dial Mason’s phone number.
He picks up on the second ring, and his voice pours through the speaker. I shut my eyes, inhaling sharply and reveling in its magnificence. “Saint?” He repeats my name. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” I mutter quietly.
“Take your time, Saint. Talk to me when you’re ready.” His tone softens behind the speaker.
I breathe heavily, chest constricting as air saws through my lungs. “At the party, I never made a wish.” I whisper.
“Do you want to make a wish now?” He asks.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I wish things were different, so I can give myself to you without fear of ever losing you.”
“But I’m here.”
“It’s not that simple, baby.” His breath softens when I call him baby.
He waits for my words. “I wish our worlds weren’t so different.
I wish I weren’t such a fuck up, so I could give you what you need.
But I’ll taint your soul because that’s all I have done.
I’ve always destroyed anything I touched. ”
“That’s not true.”
I don’t speak. I don’t hang up either. Because I can’t bring myself to.
“Saint, we’ll meet on Monday. Can you wait until then?”
“Yes, yes, I can.”
“Good.” He sighs.
“Please don’t hang up.”
“I won’t unless you tell me to.” He promises.