Page 16 of Saint Valentine

I watched him disappear somewhere into the front of the house. Fuck him… I headed straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The hot water from the shower was a relief, the steam filling the room as I stood under the spray, letting it wash away the grime and the chill. I leaned against the tiles, my head bowed, and told myself I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction even if he couldn’t see me.

As the water ran over me, I forced myself to think. To plan. Losing my temper wasn’t going to help me. Screaming at him, hitting him—none of it would get me out of here. I needed tobe smarter. Calmer. If I wanted to find a way out, I had to play along. At least for now. At least I would try.

I took a deep breath, letting the steam fill my lungs. I could do this. I could pretend. I could be whatever he wanted me to be until I figured out how to escape. Until I could get to Jason and Isabella. Then I would deal with Saint for taking us.

When I stepped out of the shower, I found a towel in the cabinet next to the sink and wrapped it around me as much as possible. Now that I was warm and clean, I felt a bit better after spending the night cold and wet.

I walked back into the room and found a pajama set waiting for me—pink shorts and a pink button-up shirt. I hated pink. My mother used to force me to wear it as a child.

Saint was watching me, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room like a freaky little voyeur, with a smug look on his face. Our eyes connected. His were dark with something I didn’t want to name.

I’d expected him to grow into the same kind of monster his father was—cold, distant, and detached. He was all of that, but also something different. Something far more unsettling. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in, making you want to touch him, even when you knew you should run in the other direction. Danger wasn’t supposed to be enticing, but nature had a twisted way of making the most lethal things irresistible. Inwardly, I sighed. I hated myself for noticing it.

The longer I looked at him, the more the smugness started to fade from his face, and behind his lifeless eyes, I saw him—ten years old again, still lost in a world that never made sense to me and probably never made sense to him.The ring on my finger suddenly felt heavier.

I turned away. I had a penchant for wanting to fix things. When I was young, I used to want to save hurt animals. It drove my father crazy—a cat with a broken leg or a hungry, mangy dog, one time a hyena. I never could turn away from something broken, no matter how dangerous. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t actually hate Saint, even though he didn’t deserve my sympathy.

I didn’t ask where the undergarments were. I didn’t care. I dropped the towel and slipped into the pajamas. I was tired. I was thirsty, and I had no time for modesty.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, and that was fine. If he wanted to watch, let him see what he couldn’t have. Let him burn in lust.

After I was dressed, the smell of prime-cut meat and melted butter hit me like a sucker punch, and my mouth watered. Saint moved and sat down at a table I hadn’t noticed in the corner of the room. He gestured for me to sit. When I did, he sat across from me, his dark eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

I grabbed the glass of water there, downing it in one desperate gulp. My hands shook as I set it back on the table. I picked up the fork next, my fingers curling around the cold metal. I picked up the knife and cut into the steak. I went to raise it to my mouth, then stopped.

The memory of him drugging me made me not want to eat. I set the fork down, my fingers trembling as I stared at the plate, my jaw clenched tight. I was hungry as fuck, but I didn’t trust him.

“I don’t want it,” I said, my voice low.

“Eat,” he commanded. “An entire day has passed, and you haven’t yet. You’ll make yourself sick.”

I swallowed my hunger. “I don’t want to,” I repeated.

His lips curled into something sinister. He rose from his seat. “You don’t have a choice, Aria,” he said, his voice dripping with menace as he stepped closer. “If you don’t eat, I’ll make you. And if I have to do that, you’ll wish you’d obeyed.”

I felt the heat of his breath as he leaned in, his gaze burning into me. “Eat.”

Anger flashed through me, hot and fast, but I did what he said. I was too tired to argue or fight. I focused on eating my steak and eggs. It tasted like nothing, but it stopped the hunger pains. I wondered if he’d found my phone in his maze? He probably would have said something if he did. I had powered it down and hid it under some brush. I could go later to get it and try to get further through the maze and make a call. I would just plan better next time.

He stared at me while I ate.

“Why aren’t you talking?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. “You’re not usually this quiet.”

He said those words as if he had actually talked to me more than twice, years ago. I decided then and there—I wasn’t going to speak to him. Not a word. He didn’t deserve it, and it would probably drive his ass crazy. If I couldn’t beat his ass, I could fuck with his head.

My silence seemed to piss him off exactly like I thought it would. His face started to go crimson.

“You know,” he started, “it’s your fault you were trapped out there. You shouldn’t have run. You’re the one who said you’d do anything to save your friends. Running wasn’t part of the deal.”

I wanted to scream, to throw something at his stupid ass, to release just a fraction of the anger boiling inside me, but I wouldn’t.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You’re so stubborn, but eventually I’ll have to break you.”

I tried to remain calm, biting my jaw, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth only made my anger worse. Before I could stop myself, I picked up the plate and hurled it against the wall. The sound of it shattering was satisfying, but it wasn’t enough.

Saint watched the remains of the food slide down the wall with no emotion on his face or in his eyes. When he spoke, there was no inflection in his tone. “I see you’re angry.” He paused, then added, “Rest. I’ll leave you to work out your feelings alone. I’ll send the maid later with a dress. Be sure to be ready when I come back. We’re having dinner with my father.” He said, then he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the shattered pieces of the plate on the floor. I sat there for a long time, my hands clenched into fists, my mind racing.

Chapter eight

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