CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
SAINT
“You’re still here, baby.”
“Hmm, hmm.” Mason hums beside me. My thumb rubs his skin in slow, intimate circles.
We’ve exchanged positions after his dick slipped out of me, but I haven’t forgotten how this night started.
Neither will I forget this experience. I feel so alive.
Seen. Wanted. Not just because I relinquished control to him.
But because I was present. I tore myself open, and I chose to stay through it all, and I loved every second of it.
Even in moments where the shadows from my past had tried to ruin our moment, I chose to think of something else.
I thought of Mason’s quiet, loving kisses on my skin. The feel of his dick inside him. The devotion in his eyes at every roll of his hips into me. Hell, I still feel him inside of me, and I fucking love it.
I love that I took Syn’s advice, and I hope that this means a lot to him as much as it means a lot to me.
Because I’ll always hold this moment close to my heart for the rest of my life. Not because of what we shared. But the things I felt. How truly unraveling surrender can be. And not just total surrender. But the softness and gentleness, and the immersiveness of it all.
It beats everything I have ever had. I didn’t hate myself for wanting it. I don’t think laying with a man is wrong. I came out satisfied. I came out feeling proud of who I am and what my body and heart needs.
Maybe I’m not sick after all.
“We could go see the house soon.”
“Are you trying to run away from cuddling with me?” He teases and looks over his shoulder and meets my gaze.
“You’re the only man I have ever cuddled with.”
“Oh, Saint, you’re obsessed with me.”
“I’m not denying that.” I chuckle and press a kiss on his shoulder. “I think I might need a drink.” I say.
“Get a glass for me.”
I hum and get off the bed. “Are you going to leave without kissing me?” He asks, and I lean in and press a kiss on his cheek, then his lips.
“You know, I wouldn’t.” I grin at him, picking up my shorts and my phone on my way out of the room.
I turn on my phone while I look through the wine collection on the shelf before I decide on what’s perfect for the occasion.
My mother loved wine, and I started putting a collection together after she passed.
It was a way to remember her. My phone buzzes with notifications, and I set down the wine bottle and two glasses.
I pick up my phone and stare at the consistent incoming messages from my youngest brother, Cross.
I left something at your office.
I leave the wine shelf and stride toward the study, shutting the door behind me.
There’s a brown envelope tucked neatly into the bottom drawer.
I pull it out and look at the pictures inside.
My pulse stutters when I see the two men in the picture.
Mason and Neo. They were both in the alley in the first picture.
In the second picture, Neo is striding down the sidewalk, and in the next picture, Mason is entering a ride.
There are other pictures of Neo frequently visiting the same building.
Every muscle in my jaw locks so tightly. Pain impales my chest as I set the pictures down on the table. I retreat, leaning against the shelf of books behind me. A sharp, humorless laugh breaks from my lips, and my mind wrestles with the truth.
Memories flood in. Cold and aggravating.
The Red Horn Club.
The lie he told me at the docks.
All along, he’s been working with Neo. The same man responsible for killing the boys who burned my warehouse. The same man who convinced my security men to tamper with my cargo.
Fury burns in my eyes as I lean off the shelf and snatch the pictures away from the table, storming out of my office. I’m out of breath when I appear from the study and meet Mason perusing the wine shelf.
I tore myself apart for him.
I tore myself apart for him.
And he’s part of the people who have been working to bring down everything my family has built.
How could he do this? To me? To us?
Anger sharpens every nerve in my body until my skin burns with white-hot rage.
He turns around, the smile on his face withering away when he meets my hardened gaze.
“Is there a problem, Saint?” He tries to smile.
How can he look at me like that when he had ulterior motives all along?
God, I was so stupid. So stupid to believe that the man who had raised me didn’t know better.
I should have stuck to his words. But I foolishly discarded every fucking thing I knew because I had a crush.
Because I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
I made reckless decisions. I didn’t pause or think.
I almost lost my life to Cyrus because I was infatuated with a fucking liar.
A fraud.
A spy.
My hands slam against the counter, and his gaze instantly drops to the pictures. His blood runs cold. The air around him dissolves with fear, but he doesn’t move. He remains where he is.
I rub my hands over my eyes, and a broken, tortured chuckle escapes my lips.
“Was any of it true?” I ask and shrug. He stares at me, chest rising for air, but he doesn’t utter a single word.
I inhale sharply and fight back a sordid laugh.
“Did you take pictures of the map?” To think that I was quick to defend him and put him first. To think that I was falling for him.
That I was ready to challenge everything I believed in for him.
“I did, but I can explain…”
“I TORE MYSELF APART FOR YOU!” I roar at him, veins popping around my neck.
He shivers, jerking backward. I should have listened to Virgil.
I should have kept my head down and focused on the family.
But I’m the lovesick puppy who couldn’t wait to get laid so he could prove himself to a man who might have never cared about him.
“And it was for nothing. How could you do this to me?” I turn around, body vibrating with uncontainable anger.
The air twists with the taste of my fury and his pathetic fear.
His expression twists with regret, carrying the weight of his betrayal.
But that doesn’t fool me because this is a game for him. And to think that I carry a part of him inside me. I thought his kisses meant something. I thought I was doing this for both of us.
“Can you not speak, huh?” My hand springs forward and slams the wine off the counter. It lands on the floor and shatters, sending a shock through Mason’s body.
“I can explain.”
“You’re my fucking enemy. You are a fucking devil. You did all this just so you could rip everything about me apart.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Explain it to me then. I almost lost everything three weeks ago because of you. You. And yet, you looked me in my eyes, and you kissed me in your room.” My fingers close around the necklace he got me for my birthday.
I rip it off and toss it to him. Tears stream down his face, and his lips move, but they don’t form any proper words.
My heart aches with regret.
The one time I try to do something for myself, it blows up in my face.
The one time I try to piece myself together, I lose it all.
“You know what? Leave! Whatever this is, it’s over. It never happened.” I turn to head for the stairs.
“But Saint...” My name on his lips doesn’t sound like it used to. I hate him.
“Don’t say my name ever again. I’m giving you an hour, Mason. If you’re still in Kingston, I will find you, and I WILL KILL YOU.” My heart aches with humiliation and heartbreak.
I defended him.
I put him first.
“And you are fired. Never step foot on anything that belongs to me, or you’re dead.”
Those are the last words I say to him. He doesn’t matter to me. I have decided that. Not when my family’s probably waiting for me to look into the evidence Cross has found. Here on out, it’s my family. Nothing more or less.