I stroke her back, relishing the feel of her in my arms. She’s definitely upped the stakes for me in this game, because now I have to keep her safe as well.
But she’s worth the extra effort.
CHAPTER 18
Sin
I’m in Paris at an outdoor cafe in June with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known sitting across from me. Thanks to our shopping spree, my outfit manages to be both cute and sexy. I’m wearing a gray-and-white striped romper, a big floppy straw hat with a gray bow on the side of my head, one side tilted over my eye. It was a gift from Saint, who’d ended up buying me a few outfits he liked. Add on flat T-strapped sandals scattered with sparkly clear rhinestones, and I look like I belong exactly where I am.
Except none of this is enjoyable to me.
“Paris has been officially ruined,” I moan, running my index finger along my water glass. I hate coffee, but Saint is enjoying his espresso, so the café is not a total bust.
“Why’s that?” he asks, sitting in his chair with one leg crossed casually over the other. In fitted khaki pants, brown loafers, and a blue gingham checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, he looks good enough to eat.
“Hmm… let’s see,” I ponder, pursing my lips. Focusing on him, I lay it out. “I’m working for a Parisienne I despise, who’s holding me hostage to fulfill a debt my dad shouldn’t even owe since it was a medical condition and not his fault. I’ve been thrust back into working with you—a man who has every right to hate my guts because of how badly I’ve wronged him—and oh… a real biggie… I watched two men get their brains blown out.”
“Technically, one brain was blown out in London,” Saint points out with the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Don’t let that ruin Paris for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. The point is that it’s all tied to Julian Mercier, who resides in Paris. Therefore, he’s ruined this city for me.”
Saint scans the busy street where tourists and locals stroll along, enjoying the sunny weather. Slowly, he focuses my way. “I think you should consider bowing out.”
His words are ludicrous. I make a scoffing sound, then take a sip of my “fizzy” water—as it’s often called throughout Europe. “I can’t, and you know it. Not with my dad’s life in the balance.”
Saint uncrosses his legs, then leans forward slightly across the circular, wrought-iron table. “I’ve got contacts, Sin. I can get you and your dad to safety.”
“And what then? Live life looking over my shoulder while always fearful of Mercier tracking us down?”
Saint’s expression hardens slightly, his voice a little cold. “When I say I have contacts, I mean I have the kind that can erase you. Give you new lives. You could go wherever you want.”
I do believe he’s offering this from a position of care, but I also think there’s an element twined throughout that says it would be easier for him if I weren’t involved anymore. And what he’s offering would turn my world upside down, so I feel obligated to point out, “What if I don’t want to be erased? What if I like being Sin Westin—like living a life where I can freely walk down the street without worrying if someone will sneak up behind me to put a bullet in my brain?”
Saint sighs, sinking back into his chair. His fingertips play at the rim of his espresso cup. Grimacing, he mutters. “Just trying to give you options, Sin. You could at least give it some consideration.”
So easily dismissing his idea makes me feel a little ungrateful. I do believe Saint only wants what’s best for me in the current situation. He’s dealing with a lot right now, needing to keep us both safe while he navigates this incredibly dangerous journey.
“Hypothetically,” I drawl, catching his attention. “If I were to accept your offer, where exactly would my dad and I go?”
Saint straightens, relief I’m open to discussing this evident in his expression. “Anywhere you want, although I’d probably advise against Europe since it’s too close to Mercier right now.”
“And what about you?” I ask.
Saint blinks. “What about me?”
I lean forward slightly, crossing my forearms and resting them on the table. My gaze is unwavering. “What would you do when all this is over?”
He frowns, as if the answer to my question is self-evident and he doesn’t understand how I’m not seeing it so plainly in front of me. “I’d go back to Pittsburgh. To my job at Jameson.”
A scoffing noise deep within my chest erupts. I avert my eyes, finding it painful to swallow the pure indifference on his face.
At least, that’s what I think it is.
“What?” Saint demands, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.
Incredulously, I ask, “You clearly don’t see us as having anything more than what we have right now? Some hot fucking while I help you take Mercier down?”
I try to pull my hand away, but Saint squeezes hard to keep it. “I didn’t ask for your help, Sin.”
“Maybe not,” I fling back, yanking hard to extricate myself from his grip. “But you made it impossible for me not to. You’re the one who told me what you were doing here. You could have kept me in the dark… and I’d have been none the wiser. You could have fucking kept your hands to yourself—”
“You came onto me first,” he points out.
“Seriously?” I ask, pissed he would say something so juvenile. “You could have said ‘no’. Shown an ounce of restraint.”
Saint makes a growling sound of frustration. “Look… I’m trying to keep you safe. I’m trying to look out for you. Why are you so mad?”
He’s right—I am mad—but then it all flows out of me and I’m left feeling sad. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re going to such great lengths to look out for me since I don’t think I’m much more than a good fuck to you.”
“Christ, Sin,” he explodes. People at the next table swing wide eyes our way. Saint immediately notices, lowering his voice. “You are more than a fuck, and you know it. But what you are exactly, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. Right now, I’m more worried about keeping us alive through all of this… and you’re wanting me to plan our future together.”
“No, Saint,” I reply calmly. “That’s not what I’ve been asking you to do. I’m merely asking if you see a potential future because all I’m hearing is you want me and my dad to disappear while you go back to your life in the States.”
“Just trying to discuss options, Sin.” His words are soft, obviously trying to diffuse the emotion with his tone.
It makes me feel small and weak that he thinks he has to put on kid gloves to deal with me.
I shore up my resolve, making it clear where I stand. “Well, I’m not interested now, nor am I in the future, in an option that has me running from Mercier, so don’t ask again.”
“Fine,” he replies tersely.
“Fine,” I snap.
We glare at each other until Saint has the gall to give me a devilish grin. “I love it when you get mad. Always loved that temper of yours—the way it fires up your eyes. I also seem to remember you and I always had the best angry sex ever.”