Broken Saint by E.M. Gayle

8

Nova

Standing in the living room at my floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, I basked in the lights and energy of the city in front of me. Despite the ups and downs Vegas had served me, I couldn't get the unique and wild energy of this place out of my blood no matter how hard I tried. It pulsed through me in a way that anchored me and fed my creative muse at the same time.

Having these helped, too. I untied the ribbon of the black velvet bag and gently poured the exquisite gems into my hand.

I didn't need to look at them to ensure they were still here, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I watched them glitter, almost trance-like. Stealing them had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. When my father had shown up while I hid in the shadows, I’d thought my heart would stop.

For this, I owed my sister. The risks she took—that she continued to take—had given me the information I needed to pull this off.

I continued to roll them in my hand, watching them sparkle as they moved. I almost wished I could keep them. But every made man from here to Italy and back wanted these beauties. Having them in my possession this long was already driving me crazy.

All that mattered was that they were real, and they gave me hope. That hope had grown inside me like a living and breathing thing.

So why, after my sister’s latest call, had I devolved into an angry, scared creative little monster, taking out my frustrations the only way I knew how—with a sketch pad and pencil? While that outburst had created magic—as evidenced by the sheets of paper littering the ground around my chair with designs I knew were going to take the world by storm—I couldn’t shake the bitterness that had settled into my bones.

For the last five years, I'd tasted a freedom that had awakened my soul.

I'd certainly tried to go other places, but nothing ever came close to home. I always missed it, and I always came back.

Not sure what that said about me, considering my real home was off-limits and most of my family wouldn't even take a call from me if I did contact them. Which I didn't. Except for my younger sister.

Now, that freedom I loved so much was about to end. Five years ago, I'd made my deal with the devil. My father. A ruler in this city who wielded his power like an iron fist. He'd raised me for one purpose and one purpose only.

To marry a man he chose.

No exceptions. No alternate options. And no ability to choose.

However, in exchange for my eager submission when the time came, he had made me a deal that gave me five years of total freedom to do as I pleased. No questions, no connections and no interference. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance to experience that kind of life. At the time, five years had felt like an eternity. Today, it felt like a blink of an eye.

He had shockingly lived up to his word and then some. Or so I’d thought. After blaming me for everything that had gone wrong, he'd supposedly cleaned up the mess from that night, cut me off from the family and left me completely alone. I don't know what he'd expected to accomplish on his end by exiling me, but I'd thrived without him. Although, the first year had been rough. I'd lived in fear that he would change his mind and drag me back to an altar before my time was up.

Now, however, it was time to live up to my end of the bargain.

I picked up the handwritten note that had arrived by messenger this afternoon and read it again.

As agreed, your fiancé will arrive tomorrow to collect you. I have fulfilled my terms of our deal, now you will do the same. Do not make me come after you. It will not end well for anyone.

That was it.No dear Catherine, no signature from the man I called father for almost twenty-three years. Nothing but this terse note with the clear threat of retaliation if I didn't do as he said and a plain white card with a name printed on it.

As if I didn't already know exactly who my father had sold me to and for how much. He'd accepted a paltry sum, in my opinion, but I had a feeling it was by design. It wasn't the money he needed so much as the alliance. Tomorrow, the stranger I had promised to marry would arrive, and everything I'd built would come crumbling down. He expects my willing submission, and rightfully so. It was what I had vowed.

I had no doubt he would arrive just as expected because I'd already seen him. At first, I thought he was a figment of my overactive paranoia.

Then this note had arrived, and with the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, I'd realized he was already here and he had seen me—with another man.

A cold shiver worked up my spine. Just remembering the lascivious smile on his face as I'd been in the throes of an orgasm gave me the chills.

I don't know my supposed prince well, nor him, me. His reputation, however, precedes him. First and foremost, he's known as a cold and cruel businessman who steps in when no one else can get the job done. As the dark knight of his family, he doesn't shy away from getting his hands dirty—or bloody. Whatever he wants, he takes, and everything else, he destroys.

I did my research, and with him, I will be bound to a man exactly like my father.

That thought alone made my stomach twist. At this point, I'd do anything to escape that fate.

Anything.

Even sleep with another man.

That twisted thought made no sense, but that’s what he did to me.

From the moment it became more than one night, I'd known I had to break it off, but one look, one word, and one touch was all it took to make me forget. When he pressed his body to mine, I couldn't think straight. When he brought his mouth down on mine, I was lost.

Mr. tall, dark and fuck me against the wall had hooked me in good and I didn't want to break free. He might look like a boy scout to the rest of the world, but to me he was anything but. He had a dark side too.

Tonight, however, would absolutely have to be our last. One way or another I would find a way to open my mouth and tell him goodbye. After this morning though, I didn't know what to think. He'd sounded so sure about what he wanted that I was almost convinced. For a few minutes I'd even entertained the idea that I could actually belong to him instead of another.

And then reality crashed into me.

He would have to go. It simply couldn’t be anything but the hottest sex of my life...

That still left me backed in a corner alone.

Unless my fiancé-to-be was willing to negotiate.

I turned away from the sun setting over the strip and walked to the painting on the wall that hid a safe behind it. I twirled the dial backward and forward in a complex pattern that would eventually unlock the door.

Over five years, designing haute couture was not the only skill I had honed. I had also discovered that in some respects I was truly my father's daughter. When I saw something I wanted, I found a way to get it. If that meant I had to bend the rules, I did. Without hesitation.

Opening the safe, I placed the simple bag inside. I wanted my freedom beyond the five-year mark, and to make that work, I had to find something that my father wanted more than my marriage. These, I believed, were it.

It had taken years to figure out the answer and months more to obtain them. But finally, I had my one and only life insurance policy.

A soft sigh escaped my lips.

These right here made the impossible even more impossible. No normal man would ever understand what I had to do to survive. Which left me with no other choice. I had to forget him after tonight.

Tonight, well after midnight when the city that never sleeps slowed to a crawl, he would come for the last time. And I would be waiting on my knees, for the first and last time. It didn't matter if that thought made me want to cry.

Until I found a way to break free from my deal with the devil, I'd do what any other woman in my position would do—rebel.

Feeling resolute and resigned, I jerked when a knock sounded at my door.

My gaze flew to the window, where the sun had not yet completely set, at the same time I slammed the door to the safe closed.

I knew it wasn't time, but I'd had to check. My mystery man would never come to my door this early, nor would he knock. I'd also not given access to my private section of this floor to anyone else.

My stomach plummeted. The hair at the nape of my neck rose, and goosebumps erupted across my arms. My instincts were screaming that plans had suddenly changed.

As I adjusted the painting over the safe—twice, to make sure it wasn’t off kilter, —I tried to force down the rising panic that threatened to choke me. The man most likely at my door would not be happy to see me.

Running would be futile and not my style. I had planned to fight for my life to the bitter end and that is exactly what I would do. I straightened my back and crossed the living room to open the door.

I considered checking the peephole to confirm my suspicions, but I didn't need to. Every instinct in my body had begun to scream.

Time was up.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

And there he stood.

One of the most lethal enforcers in the United States, and he was here for me.

The devil himself.