“I do, and every day we’re living this charade it gets easier to pretend it’s real. I start to let myself believe the lie, and it feels right. I can’t deny that he has this huge pull over me, and pretending I belong to him makes me want him all the more.”
“Maybe you should give this a chance.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean overcoming that fear of yours and becoming fully committed to Saint for real…like, a real marriage.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“He did you a big favor—huge! That has to mean something.”
“He did it for my mother, not for me.”
“Whatever. Why don’t you stop thinking about yourself for a change? You think this has been easy for him? But he did it anyway. Isn’t he the guy you crushed on? You’ve been handed him on a silver platter. Make the most of it.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s not like guys are standing in line to be with you anymore. You being prom queen—those days are over.”
“Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just being a realist, sweetie.” She bumps me with her shoulder, then looks back over her shoulder toward Saint. “So, how’d he get the black eye?”
I splash my foot in the water. “One of the Kings came over yesterday. Saint’s sponsor—he found out Saint’s been lying to him about me. He beat up Saint and now he might lose his chance at a patch because of me.”
“That’s not good.”
“I know. So you see, I have to go. I’m eighteen now, and that’s all he committed to. I said I’d go when this day came. I’ve caused him enough trouble.”
“Surely he can’t mean to toss you out.”
I stare off at the horizon. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess I’ll have to use what money I have or sell my mother’s jewelry.”
“Look, maybe you can come stay at my house until I leave for college. I could ask my mom. I’m sure she’ll let you.”
“I appreciate it. But when you leave for college next month, what will I do?
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kami—
I follow Saint back into the cottage.
As the sun disappeared below the horizon earlier, he was suddenly insistent we return, saying there was something he needed to take care of. I suppose I should be grateful he came at all, and we really did have a wonderful day. I hated seeing it end, and I hated leaving my old friends, but I didn’t want to ruin it by making a fuss about leaving. Besides, Saint has done so much for me, how could I be difficult?
Mary Elizabeth wished me well, and told me to call her tomorrow, a secret smile on her face, as if she thought we were going home to have sex or something.
Saint flicks the kitchen light on and closes the door behind us. “Did you bring any dresses with you?”
I frown. “A couple, why?”
“Go put on a pretty one. I’m taking you somewhere.”
I smile big. “Really?” Yay! My birthday’s not over.
“Yep. Hurry up. I don’t want to be late.”
“Late for what?”
“You’ll find out.”
“It’s a surprise?” I practically squeal, not able to contain my joy.
“Yeah, shortcake, it’s a surprise. Now hurry up.”
In fifteen minutes flat, I’m standing in front of the mirror, putting some gloss on my lips. I scan my figure, turning to see the back. I’ve got on a black dress that fits like a glove with little straps and a straight skirt that falls just above my knee. I slip on my strappy high heels that make my legs look great. I pin my hair up on my head in a twist; exposing the tan I got out on the lake today in my skimpy little strapless red bikini.
I smile, thinking back to the way Saint’s mouth dropped open when he saw me in it. If we hadn’t already been out in the middle of the lake when I pulled my shirt over my head and wiggled out of my cutoff shorts, he probably would have made me go change. As it was, he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off me the rest of the day.
I check the mirror again, and since it is my birthday, I add something special. I pull the suitcase from under the bed and retrieve the jewelry box. I scan the items, and choose my mother’s diamond necklace. It has a continuous row of diamonds that encircles my neck with a total of over fifteen carats of quality diamonds. My mother once told me it was worth over ninety thousand dollars. I always loved it, and she once told me she intended me to have it on my eighteenth birthday. I fasten it at my nape and stare in the mirror, touching it reverently, and for a moment its almost like she’s here with me. I miss you mom.
I shove the box back in my suitcase and under the bed, then dash out; not wanting us to be late for whatever Saint has planned.
He’s standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his phone in his hand, texting. He’s in a pair of dark jeans and a white button-up shirt that looks sexy as hell against his tanned skin and all that ink. A heavy silver chain bracelet is around one wrist, and a big black watch on the other. They suit him.
He’s got his biker boots on, and I’m glad he didn’t add some preppy loafers, because the boots look hot on him.
I spin around. “This okay?”
He looks up and his gaze sweeps over me, and the phone slowly lowers. “You look stunning.”
I smile and move to him. He grabs me in his arms, pulling me against him and the smell of some amazing cologne hits my nose. “I didn’t know bikers wore cologne.”
He grins. “I don’t usually. But since it’s my wife’s birthday, and all.”
“I like it.”
“Glad to hear it.” His hand lifts my necklace, and he brushes his fingertips over it. “This is pretty.”
“It was my mother’s. She wanted me to have it when I turned eighteen.”
“Well, then you shouldn’t take it off, that way you always keep her close.”
His words make my eyes tear up.
“Let’s go.” He grabs a jacket off a chair and shrugs into it. Then puts a hand on the small of my back and ushers me out to his truck.
Forty-five minutes later, we pull down an alley in North Atlanta, and stop at a black unmarked door. I cock a brow. “Is this a rave?”
“Nope.”
He comes around and helps me out of the truck.
“Where are we?”
“You’ll see.” He takes my hand and leads me to the door, pausing to pound his fist on it. A moment later, an older gentleman in a suit opens the door, letting us in.
“Thanks, Gus.”
The man smiles at me and extends his arm. “Right this way, Miss.”
I follow him down a cluttered back hall until we come to a red velvet curtain. He pushes it aside and we walk into a dimly lit room.
I’d stop, but Saint’s palm is on the small of my back, guiding me forward.
“If you’ll follow me,” the man says, leading us to the left. I see ghostly shadows of big hulking forms, but there’s not enough light to see. We move through another door into some type of show room with floor to ceiling windows.