“For now,” he clips out.
“Okay… so I agreed to help Mercier out on some jobs until the price you cost him was paid.”
“And how long was that going to take?” my dad demands.
“No clue,” I say honestly, owning up to getting myself in a pickle. “But that’s moot right now because this job with Mercier is going to be the last.”
My dad frowns. “I’m not following.”
I go out on a limb, hoping Saint doesn’t get mad I’m letting my dad in on this secret. “Because Saint is working undercover for an insurance consortium who got wind that something big was being planned. He’s going to take Mercier down with whatever this big heist is he’s planning.”
My dad’s jaw drops, mouth hanging open. He considers something, closes his mouth, opens it to perhaps ask a question, then snaps it shut again. I can see I’ve shocked him, so I continue to fill him in.
“I’ve agreed to help Saint. Once this job is done, I’m out of the business.”
“If Mercier finds out about this, you and Saint are dead,” my dad says flatly, his eyes hard and unyielding. I can hear the silent demand within, forbidding me from doing this.
“I know,” I murmur. “Saint wants me to disappear now. Said he can get you and me to safety, give us new identifies.”
“Let’s do it,” my dad exclaims. “Let’s go right now.”
“No,” I say firmly. “I don’t want to be on the run. I want to stay and help Saint finish this, not only because it lets me keep control of my own destiny, but also because I’d like to see this asshole taken down after what he did to us, so don’t try to talk me out of it.”
My dad growls, muttering something under his breath.
I try for additional reassurance. “I trust Saint to keep me safe. And I trust in my skills that we’ll be able to pull this job off, whatever it might be. I want you to trust me, too.”
Wilting like a flower, my dad sighs and pins me with big puppy-dog eyes. “I do trust you, kiddo. It’s Mercier I don’t. I worry about you. And you telling me not to worry is ludicrous. I’m your dad, and that’s apparently the only job I’m cut out for right now.”
I snort over his backhanded slap for shutting down any future illegal activities on his part. Reaching out, I take his hand and promise, “I’ll be careful, and we’ll come out of this on top. I swear it. I’ll be fine.”
Squeezing my hand back, he gives me a tremulous smile. “I’m proud of you, Sindaria. I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter.”
Biting the inside of my cheek so I don’t cry, I smile. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too.”
My phone starts ringing from inside my purse, and I rise from my chair to nab it. It’s Saint, and I answer hesitantly. We haven’t talked since we parted ways at the airport earlier this week.
“Hello,” I say as if I don’t know who’s calling, even though I clearly do.
“Missing me?” he asks in that low, rumbly tone that makes my legs go weak. I wasn’t expecting that from him, and it has an immediate effect on me.
“Maybe,” I whisper, moving into the living room for a bit of privacy.
“I’m definitely missing you,” he murmurs, and I have to drop to the couch because yeah… legs a bit wobbly.
“Okay…” I drag the word out as if answering is a hardship. “I might miss you, too.”
“I’m flying into Paris tomorrow evening. Will you be back?”
“Yes,” I reply breathlessly.
“Then I’ll come to your apartment. If you do care about me the way you say you do, you’ll be naked and waiting for me at nine.”
“I do care about you,” I confirm, still whispering into the phone.
“Ditto,” he rumbles, and now it’s my heart that’s feeling a bit weak.
And then I jolt, popping up from the couch. “Saint… listen… I… um… I told my dad about what’s going on with Mercier. How he was holding me hostage and how you’re undercover. I’m sorry… I needed him to know what I was embroiled in and—”
“It’s fine, Sin,” he cuts in. “I trust your dad. I’m glad you told him.”
I let out a huge breath of a relief. “I thought you’d say that, but I wasn’t sure.”
“It’s fine,” he repeats. “See you tomorrow evening. And don’t plan on getting any sleep, okay?”
“Challenge accepted,” I reply tartly before ending the call. I’ve always loved having the last word with him.
I tap my phone against my chin pensively, warmed by Saint’s sweet words and his open admission he misses and cares for me.
Feeling eyes on me, I shift toward my dad, who was apparently listening the entire time. He smirks. “Can’t wait for my grandbabies.”
I roll my eyes, but if that’s where my future lies, well… I can’t wait for that either.
CHAPTER 21
Saint
Mercier’s estate is as impressive as I expected. A massive chateau in the Seine-et-Marne area, about twenty miles from the city center of Paris, it’s on over three-hundred acres of rural flatlands and woods. It boasts eleven bedrooms, five bathrooms, and has an equestrian center on the property. An interesting fact about Mercier—he was an Olympic equestrian in his youth who medaled several times.
My research into the man informed me he doesn’t spend a lot of time here, preferring his apartment inside the Paris city limits, but the massive number of invites sent out for tonight’s gala superseded the room available at his other place.
Sin looks like she belongs here. While I can certainly put on the trappings of an expensive gray suit with a subtle checked pattern and drive a rented Maserati out to Mercier’s estate, I still stand out like a sore thumb. But Sin has that regal bearing in the way she walks that screams, “I belong here.”
It’s certainly not her background as she grew up lower class just as I had, but years of being someone she’s not that allows her to become a chameleon to fit it… and she does it to perfection.
I wholeheartedly approve of the dress she settled on. Fits her body like a glove and is elegant in its sapphire-blue simplicity. Nothing else is needed when confronted with the perfection of her face and that wild halo of hair that speaks not only as a nod to her culture, but also to the fact she’s confident in who she is.
After we leave the car with a valet, she loosely tucks her hand inside the crook of my elbow as we walk up to the massive stone front porch. There are many others arriving as fashionably late as we are. The front door is open and a uniformed butler is there to greet us, directing us up a grand staircase where we hear soft strains of music floating from the ballroom upstairs.
“Nothing on overt display,” Sin murmurs from the side of her mouth as we stroll up the stairs.
She’s talking about stolen items such as art or antiques. Mercier’s not bold enough to have something displayed for someone else who might be sophisticated enough to spot a hot piece, but this isn’t a surprise. He’s not stupid or reckless. I suspect like anyone who steals anything exceedingly priceless, Mercier uses the items for private enjoyment only.