Broken Saint by E.M. Gayle

13

Rock

Idebated how I was going to handle the party aftermath and finally landed on a plan that didn't include screwing Nova to the wall of her suite or wrapping my hands around Ronin Kavanaugh's throat and watching him take his last breath on this earth.

Although that was not completely off the table.

Yeah. I was not in a great frame of mind since the party, and reviewing FBI case files on Kavanaugh had not helped. Together with his father, he was suspected in dozens of murders and missing persons cases. There was a lot of information available on him due to a well-developed network of confidential informants, but there was never enough evidence to make anything stick.

Mostly because the Kavanaugh MO was to leave no bodies to be found. Fucker had better watch his back in Vegas. If he was here for a job, then I would be watching. My plate was full with my current case, but when a situation like this falls in your lap, you don't ignore it.

Using the elevator key I'd had made, I pressed the button that would take me to Nova's floor. The Sinclair actually did have good security, but I didn't trust Nova's safety to anyone else. So, I'd taken the liberty of helping myself to an elevator key and reprogrammed her suite so that only she and I had access. If anyone else tried to enter without her permission, my system would immediately know.

One of the many gifts bestowed on me as a teenager by members of my father's motorcycle club. The club back then had done a lot of bad shit, but that didn't mean they were stupid. JD had invested heavily in topnotch technology, and as his son, I had learned it all. I'm sure he'd meant for me to one day take over the club, but that was never going to happen. I didn't care how legit they tried to go.

At Nova's door, I was tempted to let myself in as I usually did, but I'd pushed my luck hard with her at her birthday party, and I needed to give her a little space. I scrubbed at my face and took a deep breath as I depressed the doorbell. I hadn't even known it was her birthday, for Christ's sake, until Houston mentioned the party, and I had access to that kind of data.

It wasn't like me to lose sight of details like that on a case. Yet another sign I'd gotten way too close. Maybe this fiancé bullshit was for the best. It could give me the opportunity to pull back and regroup.

Unfortunately, that idea didn't sit well. At all.

The door opened, and catching sight of her for the first time was like every other time I saw her for the first time. It hit me square in my core like an unexpected gut punch. She was so fucking beautiful. I mean, that was a given, but it was so much more than that. This woman was the whole package. Gorgeous, smart, creative, and just the right amount of submissive.

Mine.

That surge of possessiveness I'd felt earlier at the party tightened like a restrictive band around my chest. It took an enormous amount of self-control not to drag her back inside and show her exactly how I felt right now.

"I can't believe you rang the bell. That's new."

"Time to shake things up. I even brought food." I held up the bags of take-out food I'd picked up on the way over. "I hope you like Thai."

"Oh my God. Were you reading my mind? I love it. And I'm starving."

I had a feeling she needed to eat. From what I'd observed she ate like a bird, and half the time didn't seem to remember to eat at all. I carried the food into her suite and headed to the dining area.

She disappeared into the kitchen as I proceeded to unload the many containers of food. Since I wasn't sure what she favored, I'd practically gotten a little of everything.

"Good night. That's a lot of food. Should I be expecting more people to show?"

We both laughed, and again, it took an enormous amount of control not to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless. However, we needed to talk more than fuck. I wanted answers.

"I wasn't sure what you would want to eat, so I brought a variety for you to choose from."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being buttered up before the big interrogation?" She asked.

I shrugged. "I do have a lot of questions. And since we both left the party before the food was served, we both needed to eat. Two birds, one stone, I guess."

She looked skeptical, but I couldn't blame her. Up to now, most of our time together was either in a public bar or between the sheets. At the time, talking had seemed overrated. Now it was imperative.

Neither of us said anything else as we dished up our food and took two seats across from each other. Surprisingly, that silence didn't feel awkward. However, the mood was more somber than usual.

"I feel like I'm waiting for an ax to fall," she said, glancing up at me through her lashes before returning her attention back on her food.

"That's the guilt talking. You need a good confession. And then, probably, a good spanking."

Her eyebrows rose, and I smirked in response. I knew that would snag her attention. My woman could be a bit of a control freak by day and then at night, when I convinced her to let go and worked my way past her walls, she needed something entirely different.

"I don't feel guilty," she declared. "You and I had an agreement. We weren't dating, and we didn't owe each other anything."

I didn't know who she was trying to convince with her speech. Me or herself. Either way, she was full of shit. We'd gone well beyond the original parameters of just having sex.

"You didn't think telling me you were engaged to be married was important for me to know?"

"I'm not really engaged. At least not in the traditional sense."

My fork paused midair. "What the fuck does that mean? Either you're engaged or you’re not."

She sighed, placing her silverware on the table and reaching for the wine she'd poured. "Not everything in life is quite that black and white. Some families are a mess, and half of life ends up being gray."

She was talking in circles and insulting me at the same time and it was seriously pissing me off. "That's a shit answer, Nova. Are you engaged to him or not?"

"I didn't accept a proposal if that's what you mean, but technically we are kind of engaged. It's an arranged marriage put together by our families."

"An arranged marriage? What the hell, Nova? Is this 1950?"

"You asked. If you don't like the answers, I can't help that. I'm from a an old school wealthy Italian family. This kind of thing isn't as uncommon as you think."

I shoved my chair back and pushed to my feet. This situation was escalating to a dangerous place. I needed to rein in the anger and the—

Mine.

I couldn't get the damned word out of my head. Our situation was approaching the impossible, and instead of walking away, I wanted to dig in. I wasn't about to let her go to a marriage she doesn't even want, let alone to someone like him. Fucking bullshit.

"Did you agree to this arranged marriage?"

She dropped her head and I had my answer. Un-fucking-believable.

"It's not what you think." she started. "My family has expectations, and I had dreams and aspirations. When I turned eighteen, my father tried to marry me off, but it didn’t work out. So I negotiated a different deal."

"So, break it. Tell them you are already taken." I had so many other questions, but my brain seemed to have a single track of focus. Getting her away from Ronin.

She swung her head sharply to meet my gaze. For a few tense moments I simply stared at her. I didn't regret what I'd said, but I wasn't sure she was taking me seriously.

Finally, she dropped her gaze again and spoke while staring down at the table. "You really don't understand. I can't go against my family. It’s complicated. I’m not giving up, but it’s going to take some time."

“Can't? Or won't?" I knew I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should be, but that was the kind of passion Nova inspired in me. I wanted her by my side and on my fucking side. "If ever there was someone who understood family expectations it would definitely be me. But I broke free. I put my foot down and worked my way out."

"You're a man. And not from a family like mine. Trust me, it's different."

She looked resigned to her future, and that pissed me off more. "So that's it? You're going to marry him because Daddy says so? I don't fucking think so."

"Seriously, I'm working on a plan. I might be able to negotiate with my father soon."

That got my attention. "Tell me about the plan."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"You know there's a big difference between can't and won't. If we're going to have this conversation, at least be honest."

She pushed from her chair, anger darkening her face. "I haven't lied. But I have to deal with my family on my own. If I'm getting out of this mess, I'm doing it on my own."

I understood that, to an extent. I'd had to deal with mine in my own way and no amount of coercion from others swayed me to handle it any other way. But this was Nova, and at this point, I'd earned the right to help her. She was mine.

“Not good enough. I need more.”

She glanced down at her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. It was obvious she wanted to say more, but was too scared.

No fucking way in hell would she ever marry that vicious criminal. I didn't even want her in his presence. "I don't think you understand what you are getting into with Ronin Kavanaugh. I looked into him, and he's bad news. Hell, beyond bad news. He's a nightmare."

She blanched, her face drained of all color. I could practically smell her fear. "You already knew," I let loose with a string of curses. I stalked around the table and pulled her to me. "You need to tell me what else is going on, Nova. If you know how dangerous he is you aren't safe around him, and that is one hundred percent unacceptable. You being with him—? It’s not going to happen."

She took a step back. "You can't tell me what to do, Rock. This isn't us playing games in the bedroom. This is my life, and I make the choices. All of them."

"Not when it comes to this. Trust me, Nova. I know what I'm talking about. Someone like him will get you killed. Is that what you want?"

She kept trying to back away, and I wouldn't allow it. For every step back she took, I took two forward until her back hit the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Vegas strip. I braced my hands on either side of her head and caged her in.

"Of course, I don't want to die. If you knew me better you wouldn't have to ask that."

"I know you better than you think." I bent low and bit at her bottom lip.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

This conversation had taken a turn in the wrong direction. My temper was getting the best of me, and that wasn't acceptable.

"It means that I won't be dismissed that easily, babe. It also means the game you and I are playing has changed as well."

"What are the new rules?" she quipped sarcastically.

"That's just it." I nipped again at the skin just below her ear. "There are no fucking rules."