Page 54 of Saint Valentine

I yanked my wrist from her grip, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “You fucking played me.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Aria crossed her arms, not even flinching. “No, I did what I had to do.”

I let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through my damp hair. “You let me believe your father was dead.”

“I never once told you my father was dead.”

“You didn’t say he wasn’t. I trusted you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You trusted me? Why? That was stupid on your part. You kidnapped me, Saint. You held my friends hostage. You threatened to kill them. But sure, let’s talk about how I betrayed you.”

I scoffed. “You fucking hit me, Aria. Multiple times. And all I could do was sit there.”

She shrugged. “What were you gonna do? Choke me a little? Drug me? Tie me up? Force me to marry you? Oh wait—you already did those things. I told you I was going to beat your ass.”

My fists clenched. She was so frustrating. It wasn’t the same. I did what I did because we were meant to be together.

She reached up, trailed her fingers over my sore jaw, her touch soft. “You’re mad? Fine… But we’re married now. Married people work through their arguments.”

My heart nearly stuttered to a stop. She knew exactly how to disarm me.

“Are we staying married?”

“Yes. under one condition. You burn that creepy ass art of me.” She laughed.

I didn't.

I studied her, letting her yes sink in. All the fight rushed out of me. She had won.

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her into me so fast she gasped. I sat back down, situated her into position to straddle me again. My hands slid over her ass, gripping the cheeks tight. The softness calmed me more.

“Talk,” I ordered.

She smirked. “Okay…”

Chapter twenty nine

Aria

"Aria Heart isn’t my real name."

I admitted it quietly, purposely. As not to rile him up.

I watched his eyes narrow.

“Drake Heart was just my daddy’s street name. Him. my momma and me, we all had aliases.”

“My name is…”

“Cora,” he finished my sentence. “That’s what your mother just let slip.”

I nodded. “Cora Arial Valentine.” I added the Valentine, leaving out my real last name, "but I prefer Aria now."

Saint looked like he wanted to say something, but I continued.

“Brooker Junior was only seven when his father was killed. Uncle Brooker was a lawyer. He lived in Tampa, stayed out of trouble—until one night he just happened to be in Clearwater and got mistaken for my daddy.”

My parents tried to get Brooker’s wife to leavethe city with us, but she refused. She didn’t want to uproot her and Brooker Junior’s life. So we left. Went to Africa for a while. I was Seventeen when momma and me came back because mymomma’s daddy got sick. We left Daddy there, kept quiet, kept low. But by then, Brooker was out of control. Obsessed with finding out who killed his father. He was reckless, going about it all the wrong way.”

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