Page 8 of The Billionaire's Secret

He takes a step forward, and hell, if I'm going to let him approach me here in front of my family—my dead husband's family. That makes me a widow, right? A pressure builds at my temples. This entire thing is getting out of hand. This is not what I had agreed to when I had bargained with the kidnappers for Nina's freedom.

I'd agreed to pose as wife to Adam Rhodes on this trip, and returned to my home country, as part of the plan. But Saint...? This chemistry between us...? Hell, if it isn't a complication. In that sense, Adam dying had been opportune. It means I don't have to add the role of cheating spouse to my persona.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Bloody hell. How can I be this callous? I barely knew the man who had posed as my husband, but when had I become so insensitive that I couldn't pause long enough to mourn the end of someone's life?

I turn to Summer. "I have to go," I choke on the words. I don't have to fake the confusion or the pain that I am sure is etched on my face.

She glances at me, "You okay Victoria?"

I nod.

"Why don't you come home with me and..." She glances at Sinclair and her voice trails off. So, the two of them haven't resolved whatever has been marring their relationship? I wish I could offer her some advice, but glass houses, and all that.

"You could come to our place," Karma offers. "It's a tiny apartment, but you'll have company."

"I..." I swallow. "I think it's better if I am on my own." I glance between them. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer. Honestly, you two have been more than generous, considering how much of a shock the last couple of days have been." My chin wobbles. I twist my fingers together. "I need to get my head around what's happened."

Karma opens her mouth to speak, but Summer shakes her head at her sister. Karma frowns, then subsides. Whew! Okay. I don't want to tell any more lies... I need to crawl into bed and think about how to put the next phase of this plan into action.

Summer reaches forward and hugs me. I pat her shoulder. "Thank you for accepting me," I whisper.

"You're welcome." She steps back, "We need to stick together, huh? It's the only way to get through this shit that life insists on throwing at us."

I squeeze her hand, then brush past her, and head for the black limo that had brought me here. I twist open the door handle and sink inside the vehicle.

"Move over."

Saint ducks inside, forcing me to scoot over.

He drops into the seat opposite me, slams the door shut.

"What are you doing?" I gape.

He half turns and raps on the partition that separates the chauffeur from the passengers, then straightens.

The car pulls away from the curb, leaving me trapped with this...this man whose face I have seen only once; whose features are burned into my mind. Hell. No way, am I riding with him. Not for one second more. I grab at my handle; the door doesn't open. The hell? I slap at the barrier between the seats. The driver doesn't respond. Hit the switch that opens the communication channel with the chauffeur,

"Pull over. I want to get out."

There's no answer.

"Stop this car now, or I am going to call the police."

"Go ahead." Saint smirks.

I pull out my phone from my handbag, position my fingers over the keypad. And pause. A beat, another.

"Thought not." Saint takes the phone from me and pockets it. "I'll take that jacket now." He jerks his chin at my attire.

"What?" I gape.

"My jacket, my rules." His eyes glint.

Jerk.I undo the buttons, shrug off the jacket.

"It wasn't your color anyway," he comments.

"No?"