Page 17

SEVENTEEN

SAINT

I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing walking into this party. Gala, fucking fundraiser, whatever they’re calling it.

Like I’m stepping into a world I don’t belong to and never will. A world that I fucking hate. These rich people flaunting their money and fancy fucking outfits, trying to hide the fact that deep down, they’re all as fucked-up as the rest of us. They’re just masking it with materialistic shit.

“Okay,” Lennon mutters, seemingly more to herself than me, sucking in a breath so deep her chest moves with it.

Her gaze swings to a waiter who’s passing in front of us with a platter of champagne glasses, and her eyes light up as she stops him, quickly swiping a glass off the tray.

Obviously, drinking age doesn’t apply to said rich people. “Gonna need this. Want one?”

“Nah, I’m good. Not much of a drinker.”

I couldn’t tell her that I’d rather drown myself than drink a drop of alcohol. The result of having an alcoholic drug addict for a father. I would never touch that shit.

She nods, staying silent as she brings the glass to her plump, red-painted lips and takes a large sip.

I have a pretty good idea of what to expect out of tonight’s charade, but the one thing I didn’t expect?

Her in that goddamn dress. Black satin molded to every inch of her curves that’s making my mouth fucking water.

I almost swallowed my tongue the moment I saw her, heat ripping through me when my gaze found the long slit that traveled up her thigh and the red fuck-me heels on her feet that gave her a good extra five inches.

She’s still tiny compared to me, head barely reaching my chest, but fuck, her legs go on for days in this dress.

But I wasn’t going to admit that she almost knocked me on my ass tonight. Instead, I opted for “nice dress,” even though I had a litany of other things going through my head.

Like how my dick was hardening behind these stupid pants at the thought of tossing those legs over my shoulders and making her dig those heels into my back until I bled while I devoured her.

Not exactly the kind of thing you lead with instead of hello.

“Shit. There he is,” she mutters with her eyes wide.

I follow her gaze across the room to the he in question and see her father.

The resemblance between them is uncanny.

Same auburn hair, high cheekbones, striking green eyes.

He’s dressed like he’s going to the fucking Oscars or some shit, and not just some rich asshole without a moral compass and more money than sense.

I feel her stiffen slightly beside me as she steels her spine, straightening like a warrior preparing for battle, and I do the same.

Not for the reason she’ll think, but because I’m finally meeting the man I’ve spent nearly my entire life hating with every fiber of my being.

Pent-up rage bubbles hotly beneath the surface of my skin, threatening to boil over as I stare at him, laughing without a care in the fucking world.

Surrounded by his rich friends, wearing his expensive fucking suit and watch, living a life that he doesn’t deserve because of the people he’s stepped on to get there.

I flex my fist by my side, curling and uncurling my fingers when they begin to ache.

I want to wrap my hands around his fucking throat and squeeze until that rage is gone, but I push it down, burying it deep beneath the surface, keeping the mask on my face firmly in place. I have to play the long game.

I have to see this through until the very end because if I don’t, then it’ll all be for nothing.

A shrill bolt of excitement rolls down my spine at the fact that I’m finally going to come face-to-face with the motherfucker who’s responsible for the fucked-up mess that’s been my life.

I’m finally going to look him in the eye, shake his hand that’s covered in the metaphorical blood of my family… all while he has no idea that I’m about to blow up his entire fucking life.

That I’m going to fuck his daughter, taking her precious little virtue, and he’s got to live with the fact that a trashy piece of shit like me is the one that dirtied her up.

He’ll never see it coming until it’s too late. Until I’ve dirtied her all up and ruined her.

Edward Rousseau is going to pay for what he’s done, one way or another.

“Looks like we’re up,” I mutter quietly.

Her gaze whips to mine, and I smirk as I reach between us and grab her free hand, the one not currently clutching the champagne glass so tightly I’m worried she might actually break it, and lace my fingers in hers.

Her palm is warm and slightly clammy, a sign that she’s nervous as fuck about tonight. Even more than she wants to let on to me.

It’s a conundrum. How she’s parading me around as her fake boyfriend to piss off her dad, to stick it to him, yet clearly cares what he thinks. For someone who tries so hard to pretend she doesn’t give a shit when it comes to him, her body betrays her.

It’s the one thing I can’t figure out, the one thing I can’t put my finger on.

Why?

Why the sudden rebellion when it’s obvious she’s never done a thing wrong in her entire fucking life.

What changed? What pushed her to using me as her way of getting back at her father?

Her eyes move down to where our hands are clasped together, and I watch her throat bob as she swallows roughly.

“Just… follow my lead,” she finally says before turning up her glass and draining the last of her champagne in one swallow, then placing it onto a nearby table. Her exhale is unsteady as she blows out a breath, then begins to drag me through the crowded room.

I can feel how nervous she is, and it makes me wonder if she knows who her father really is… would she still feel the same way about him? Would she still care about what he thinks, knowing all of the fucked-up shit he’s gone to lengths to hide from her?

Something tells me… no, she wouldn’t.

And I can’t wait to see it all fucking fall apart.

A few of the people we pass lift their glasses and speak to Lennon as we pass, but she doesn’t falter, continuing on a straight path to the other side of the room.

This is her element, somewhere I’m sure she’s been a thousand times before now, but somehow, it still feels like she doesn’t fit. Not all the way. Not the way the others do.

And that surprises me. Maybe she’s just as much a wolf in sheep’s clothing as I am… or maybe Lennon Rousseau is something that I’ve yet to even discover.

We stop a few feet from her father, who hasn’t noticed his daughter is even standing in front of him, lost in conversation with a tall guy wearing a fucking overcoat like some type of English lord.

I feel her hand trembling in mine, her nerves ramping up, so I step closer, dipping my head to her ear. “Exactly how much of an asshole do you want me to be? Just so we’re clear?”

Jade-green pools meet mine. “Oh, you know… just be your normal self.”

Yeah, she has no fucking clue.

I nod just as her father glances up and sees her for the first time, his eyes widening slightly before his well-practiced mask drops back in place.

He bends slightly, whispering something in the ear of the blonde standing beside him, who I assume is Lennon’s mother.

She glances up, eyes flicking between us as she nods, pasting on a smile that feels as fake as she looks.

Showtime, Golden Girl.

“Lennon, sweetheart, I’m so glad you were able to make it,” he says, walking up and reaching for her, placing an arm around her shoulder.

It feels… forced from the outside looking in. She looks stiff and honestly pretty fucking uncomfortable, and my head goes back to why ?

Hmmm. Maybe this shit with her father is a lot messier than I thought.

“Hi.”

Her mother steps forward to pull her into a hug, wearing an emerald gown, heavy diamonds adorning her neck and wrists.

She presses her lips to each of Lennon’s cheeks, keeping her hands along her arms as she steps back to admire her.

“You look absolutely beautiful, darling. I love this dress on you. Very classic.”

Lennon smiles politely. “Thank you.”

Finally, her mother glances over at me, her smile dimming slightly. “And… who’s this?”

Her throat bobs before she looks up at me, then back at her parents. “This is Saint. My…”

“ Boyfriend ,” I finish for her with a smirk.

Her mother looks almost as surprised as her husband, but she never loses her perfectly poised smile.

Clearly, she’s well versed in keeping up appearances, but then again, I can see past the bullshit.

The little things, the sharp intake of breath, the slight twitch of her smile, the way she swallows roughly.

I know better than anyone about not letting the world see what’s beneath the mask.

I stick my hand out for her father to shake, and his gaze drops down, slowly flicking over the dark ink on the top of my hand.

I wish I could take my phone out and snap a picture of his face. Like he’s smelling shit, nose scrunched slightly, crinkling on the top as his lips are pulled tight in a combination of a smile and a grimace.

“ Boyfriend ?” he mutters, ignoring my outstretched hand altogether.

“It’s fairly new, but I couldn’t wait any longer for you and Mom to meet him,” Lennon says before looking up at me.

I give her a wink, ready to amp up the assholeness because I’m dying to see that vein in his neck to poke out even more.

Damn, he’s already turning a violent shade of red.

He might want to get his blood pressure checked.

Mission accomplished, Golden Girl, and I haven’t even said anything offensive… yet.

This is far too fucking easy.

To be fair, though, I don’t blame him for not wanting someone like me with his prim and proper princess. Which will make it all the more fun when I finally do.

“You know what they say… when you know, you know. And trust me, I knew. Right, baby?” I murmur before dipping my head and pressing my lips to the space right below her ear.

She shivers against me, and then she tightens her hand in mine, squeezing my fingers until they feel like they’re going to break off.

A warning.

Too bad I don’t give a fuck about warnings. Exactly why she chose me for this shtick in the first place.

Damn, though, for someone so tiny, the girl is surprisingly strong.

Her mother lets out a choked sound, and we both glance up at her.

She’s got her hand pressed against her mouth, and she clears her throat quietly, another smile slipped into place.

“Well, it’s so lovely to meet you, Saint.

We’re delighted you could be here tonight.

This is an event that’s very near and dear to Edward’s heart.

He loves this foundation and tries to make this the top fundraising event of the year. ”

My gaze shifts to Lennon’s father, and my stomach churns.

Yeah, he’s an outstanding fucking citizen alright.

Donating to charity, taking pictures with the lowly people who work for him.

Too bad the world doesn’t know that he’s a lying piece of shit who would do anything, step on anyone, to keep this lifestyle up.

Edward smiles, and it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, absolutely. We should probably head to our table. The auction should begin right after dinner is served.”

“Perfect. Could you give us just a minute?” Lennon asks. “We’ll be right there.”

Her mother’s nose bunches in obvious disgust at us being alone. “Uh… of course, sweetheart.”

They glance between us for another moment before disappearing into the crowd.

I can feel Lennon’s entire body sag the second they’re out of view, putting a stop to the performance. She untangles our fingers, taking a step away from me and glaring up at me with a fiery stare.

“What the hell, Saint?” she hisses, glancing around to make sure no one heard her. “What was that?”

My brow lifts. “What was… what?”

Her eyes narrow. “The touching. That… kiss. ”

I almost laugh out loud. She has no fucking clue what she’s signed herself up for.

Oh, you poor, sheltered, innocent girl. It’s almost a crime to be the one she chose for this.

I step closer until I feel the front of her pressed against me, drinking in the surprised, sharp intake of breath as she peers up at me.

“Just playing my part. You want to convince them or not?”

“Of course I want to. You’re here, aren’t you? That doesn’t mean you have to…”

“To what? Kiss you here?” I bring my fingers to her neck, ghosting them along the spot where my lips were just minutes ago. She shivers beneath my touch, her piercing green eyes widening. “Don’t forget, Golden Girl, that you’re mine to kiss… touch… whatever I want. Even if it’s just for show.”