Page 19 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)

Archer wiggles in his seat, seeming more nervous than I am.

I don’t like it. Not with how much he’s always right about everything.

With a bit of memory searching, my thoughts land on the only secret she can be referring to. Involving a secret boyfriend. It’s not a big deal, I never met the guy. Which means it’s not serious and Mom isn’t breaking her promise. Me, her, and Auntie always.

No spicy meatballs ever coming between us.

But I’m not stupid. She’s human. So it makes sense she’s been seeking companionship. Also makes sense she’d want to let me in on it in case I end up bumping into the guy on the street or whatever.

“It’s fine, Mom.”

Her eyebrows wrinkle. “What’s fine?”

“That you’ve been hanging with someone.”

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, the chances of her passing out seeming a lot more likely.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Nina is married, doubt she’s willing to ‘go for drinks’ almost every weekend.”

Guilt washes over every beautiful feature of her face. “I’m so sorry, Hen.”

Did it annoy me a bit she didn’t tell me? Yeah.

Was I gonna push while avoiding being pushed? Fuck no.

Whoever he is kept her off my back a lot this year.

“All good, mia madre . Everyone’s gotta get it in sometimes.”

Archer nearly spits out the orange juice he poured himself.

Mom tilts her head. “Get what in, exactly?”

I use my pointer as a guide into a finger circle. Symbolizing…well…doubt I need to explain to anyone but her.

Mom’s eyeballs turn to saucers. “Hendrix Zinnia!”

Archer chuckles. “She middle-named you, bruh. You’re cooked.”

“What? Really? Like I don’t know you have casual sex?”

Mom shakes her head, ridding the thought of her eighteen year old daughter knowing about such things.

Which is ironic since she spent the majority of my birthday singing the birds and bees over cake.

“I am not…” She inhales a breath. “I am not having… sex . Nor this conversation with you.”

“Okay? So what conversation are we having?”

With a shimmy to her shoulders, Mom lifts her chin. “You are right. I have been seeing someone. But it’s not necessarily…”

“Serious?” I question, trying to calm a sudden wave of nerves.

“... casual .”

Aaannd I’m drowning.

Not only in nerves, but realization too—both pulling me under fast.

“So…what?” I blink. “You’re in love with this guy or something?”

Pain glazes over Mom’s brown eyes, coating them in tears she’s trying hard to hold back.

Seeing her so troubled forms an ache in my chest—because it’s obvious this is a weight she’s been carrying for a while.

Which can only mean one thing…

“Yes, baby. I am.”

Tears threaten to reach the surface, but I’m a lot better at holding them back.

Archer reads me like a book, placing his hand on my shoulder to squeeze, holding me together before I fall to pieces.

I love my mom so much. We’ve been a team since before I can remember. And now I may have to let her go? Watch her risk being hurt by another man?

With all my might I gather myself, knowing this is just as hard, if not harder, on the mother who knows she’s changing the life we both felt was perfect.

“Okay, so. You fell in love.” I steady the breaths drying my throat. “It happens…it’s not a bad thing.”

“No…it’s not,” she says plainly. “And for what it’s worth I think you’ll really like him.”

“Okay. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I laugh. “I’m gonna need some time to process this.”

A millennia, maybe?

Mom shimmies uncomfortably in her seat again. “Well...” She pauses. “Here’s the thing…”

No more things, Mom. Please. I’m hanging by a damn thread.

Of course I don’t tell her that, because only a selfish dick would deny their mother a chance at happiness.

“What’s the thing?”

Eyes squeezed shut, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small box and placing it on the table.

My lungs squeeze so tight I actively choke.

“What the fuck is that?!”

She lifts it open, revealing a ginormous solitaire diamond atop a yellow band. I’m blinded by both its shine and floating dots from lack of oxygen.

She’s…no.

It can’t be.

Not this soon.

Not before I even get to know him.

But she is—because Mom slides the ring on her finger, a smile filled to the brim with the truth I’m trying like hell to deny.

“Engaged?” is all I can manage.

“I am, baby.”

Mom reaches for my hand, but I pull it away.

It’s one sin to hide a boyfriend, but a whole other to hide an engagement.

“I don’t even know this guy!” My voice turns frantic. “How could you just spring this on me so fast?”

She reaches for me again, and I pull away just the same, allowing anger to take the wheel.

“I didn’t plan this, Hen. One day it just happened. He offered me a ride to get out of the rain and gave me his jacket to warm up.” There’s a dazzle in her eyes, reminding me of a smitten little girl on the playground. “It was so sweet, swoony. What else could a girl do?”

“I don’t know…say fucking thank you?!”

With a slap to the table I jump out of my seat, ready to storm off and spend the next lifetime screaming into a hundred pillows.

This is utter fucking bullshit.

Selfish stupid bullshit and I’m really motherfucking pissed.

Archer reaches out to stop me but a knock at the door beats him to the punch.

I whip around, eyes narrowing on my mother.

The dress. The hair. The Coco Chanel .

I don’t want my assumption to make sense, but nothing else does. This blindsiding block of bullshit is her somewhere to go .

“You’ve gotta be kid?—”

She slides her chair back, rises, and wipes her hands down her dress, as if avoiding my reaction will somehow make it go away.

“That must be Vic now…”

Did she just say… Vic ?

As in…the guy I remember giving her a ride to the homecoming dance last year?

As in…

Archer’s to his feet in an instant, his horrified gaze bouncing between the door and us before pulling me into his side.

“I know you’re mad at me, baby.” Mom rubs my back, and I go rigid. “But if it helps, I think you already know his son.”

Puzzle pieces are in the midst of jab-hooking my face when another knock at the door follows with an uppercut.

I could be wrong. It could be a coincidence.

There are a million Victors in the world. Any of which could have given her a ride at some point.

I’d feel relieved if the speed of Archer’s breath wasn’t catching up to mine.

Mom walks toward the door, shaking the nerves from her hands with her head held high. Every step of hers is another rumble under my feet as Archer and I follow.

When she twists the knob to the door, Archer whispers in my ear to keep it together. That I must if who we think’s behind the door is about to walk through it.

Him squeezing my ass painfully hard leaves me no choice but to stand up straight. Hide my fear behind physical pain as Mom opens it wide.

I spot a suit standing there first, charcoal and fitted around a tall body like a glove. Bright blue eyes and a tie to match. The edges of his masculine face are aged and chafed, but with a softness way too similar to be the coincidence I was hoping for.

Then, there’s the girl next to him beaming at me. Thin, beautiful legs peeking through an oversized dress, fishnets, and tall nude boots. With long black hair and a silver nose ring underneath sparkling chestnut eyes.

She’s practically shaking with excitement, the complete opposite of why I’m shaking. Digging my nails into the palm of my hands, I prepare myself for the blast of winter I know is coming.

Because it’s been building around me since last night.

Like a storm cloud swallowing up a blue sky, Saint appears in the doorway—dressed to kill me in a light gray suit.

The fabric kisses every curve of his toned muscles as well, if not better than his dad’s. My gaze dips to the navy tie around his neck, knotted pristine, then to the jacket he’s got one hand hidden behind.

Not a wrinkle or blemish. Just beauty and perfection.

The end result of having a body carved by the gods.

Saint takes in my…under-prepared state…his gaze crawling up my body like tiny ants. The look of amusement in his grin has the room tilting on its axis, and me along with it. Archer can sense me crumbling, so he squeezes tighter on the flesh of my ass through my pink octopus sleep shorts.

Sleep shorts I’m still in thanks to my mother bum rushing me with a visit from the family of fucking Asgard.

“Hendrix.” Mom’s voice breaks me out of my resentment. “This is Vic Lavell and his family.”

Vic’s lips spread kindly as he approaches, which is when I notice the bouquet of purple roses Saint hands over to him.

“Hello, Hendrix. It’s nice to see you again.” He offers me the flowers, and reluctantly, I take them. With a jut of his chin he beckons his offspring, not continuing the greeting until they’re at each of his sides.

“This is my daughter Theory.” He places a hand on her shoulder, then to the guy who’s now refusing to look at me. “And I believe you already know my son Saint.”

More like already fucking hate him.

I call Theory’s bright smile, and raise her an awkward one, ignoring her shit brother.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” She beams through a wave.

Remembering every nasty thing I said about the girl, I sidestep my guilt by focusing on the purple roses.

An odd choice of color, but equally beautiful.

The scent of them screams expensive: soft, fruity, and sweet. As if plucked straight from a castle’s garden. I can’t help but bring the entire bouquet to my nose.

“I hope you like them…” Vic states, genuine.

I cast a glance to my mother, who’s resorted to pleading with her eyes, and respond to his kindness with a simple, “I do…thank you.”

“Well, I’m glad.” He claps his son on the back. “Because Saint, here, is the one who told me your favorite color is purple.”

With daggers for eyes I pin him, and once again Saint’s back to being Saint.

A cocky asshole as he mouths the word ‘haze’.

Fists clenching and about to rip him a new one, Archer saves Saint’s neck by breaking the tension.

“Nice suit, Lavell.”

“Nice jammies , Beaumont.”