Fallen Saint (All the Pretty Things Trilogy Volume 2)

by Monica James

  I’m guessing the men have to wait to eat until after Aleksei finishes, so I’ll make their breakfast when he’s done. This is so incredibly sexist, but the more time spent out here, scoping out my surroundings and what’s at my disposal, the better it is for me.

  There is some chitchat, mostly in Russian, but Saint stays as quiet as a ghost. I wonder what’s going through his mind? Is he searching for an escape route just like I am?

  A loud clutter causes me to jolt.

  Pausing from where I’m washing up, I turn and look over my shoulder, taking in the sight of Zoey’s breakfast spilled on the floor. The upturned plate leaves a trail of yellow yolk marring the polished surface. “This is disgusting,” she spits, glaring at me.

  Aleksei stops midchew, appearing just as confused as I am. “What’s wrong, любимая?”

  I remember Saint told me Aleksei used this nickname for Zoey, which means favorite. Irony at its finest, considering he treats her like dirt.

  She leans back in her seat with her arms folded and her lips pressed into a scowl. She looks like a spoiled little girl. “The eggs are overdone. The bacon is soggy. Do it again.”

  My hands are buried in hot, soapy water, so no one can see me clench them into fists. This is just a power play. Aleksei places his plastic fork and knife on the rim of his plate, watching this unfold. Technically, I am to obey him, not Zoey, so how am I supposed to respond?

  The men watch on eagerly, ready for a catfight. But I won’t lower myself to her level.

  Channeling my inner yoga goddess, I take three calming breaths as I dry my hands on a dishcloth. I grab a roll of paper towels and some all-purpose spray to wipe down the floor. Without a word, I walk over to the mess Zoey made and drop to my knees.

  A heavy exhale leaves Saint, but he doesn’t say a word.

  As I’m wiping up the gooey eggs, which are cooked just fine, I’m coated with a spray of coffee. Yelping, I shrink back, but it doesn’t make a difference. I’m covered in the coffee Zoey just poured onto the floor. It seems her breakfast wasn’t enough of an insult, and she had to add her coffee as well.

  Clenching the paper towel in my hand, I keep my eyes peeled to the floor as I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I look at her. I see Saint’s boots kick into action, but I subtly shake my head, demanding he stay put.

  “This coffee tastes like dishwater. You really are good for nothing, you stupid whore.”

  I know what she’s doing—she’s baiting me—and it’s working. Just as I lift my chin, poised on telling her to go fuck herself, a fist slamming onto the table has me pausing.

  Aleksei’s cool composure has been replaced by a dark cloud of anger. Zoey still sits smugly, but that soon changes when she turns a ghastly shade of white. “I will not tolerate this behavior at my breakfast table.”

  “Alek—”

  “Silence! Since when do you speak when I’m talking?”

  Zoey doesn’t think twice as she springs from her seat and drops to her knees beside Aleksei. I’m also on my knees, cleaning up her mess, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. She knows she’s in trouble.

  “You want to throw your food on the floor and behave like an animal? Then you can eat like one.”

  I gulp, eyes wide. Although she deserves this, I can’t find any satisfaction in seeing her being treated this way.

  “This breakfast is wonderful, Willow,” he says, looking at me with a smile. All I can do is nod numbly. “Don’t listen to Zoey. She seems to have misplaced her manners this morning.”

  “I’m sorry, Alek,” she cries, her lower lip quivering.

  But it’s too late.

  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

  This must kill her, but she raises her chin slowly. “I’m sorry. That was very rude of me. The breakfast is delicious.” She doesn’t mean a word, but I accept her apology nonetheless.

  Aleksei, however, doesn’t seem convinced. “Prove it.”

  We are facing each other, both on our knees, both puppets to a man who thrives on pain. Without a flicker on emotion, Zoey lowers herself onto her hands and begins to eat what’s left of her spilled breakfast off the floor.

  I shuffle back, horrified. Is he doing this to show me he cares?

  “Good?” Aleksei asks, peering down at her with a wicked grin.

  She hums her approval while I’m about to be sick.

  “You can make the men their breakfast now,” he instructs me while I stare at Zoey, tears filling my eyes.

  This is the most degrading thing I have ever seen, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. “Move.” Saint’s sharp voice has me snapping to attention.

  Looking up at him, I beg for him to stop this. But what can he do? He acts out, and his entire life will crumble around him. We have to be smart and devise a plan, I know that. But seeing this…I don’t know how long I can last.

  Coming to a slow stand, I walk around Zoey and into the kitchen. When my back is turned, I allow one tear to trickle down my cheek, but I wipe it away just as quickly with the back of my hand. I work on autopilot, preparing a mountain of food. Subconsciously, I’m hoping to fill the void in my chest, but nothing will.

  The moment Aleksei finishes his meal, the men dig into their breakfast. Zoey has finished hers but remains on her knees by Aleksei’s side. Saint stands rigid like a trained solider. If not for the heavy rise and fall of his chest, I wouldn’t even know he’s breathing.

  “You may eat,” Aleksei says to Saint, as if doing him a favor by giving him permission to eat, but he shakes his head.

  “I’m not hungry.” Waves of anger roll off him.

  Aleksei reaches for a toothpick from the table and goes about picking the food from his teeth. “Very well then. Take ангел into the en suite to shower. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll meet you in the bedroom soon.”

  A foreboding panic overcomes me because what exactly will happen when he meets us in the bedroom?

  Saint doesn’t need to be told twice and practically rips my arm off as he drags me in the direction of the bedroom. When he opens the door and shoves me inside the en suite, I grab onto the towel rack to stop myself from falling.

  He slams and locks the bathroom door, placing his splayed hands against it. Lowering his head between his spread arms, he inhales deeply through his nose. He is visibly shaking.

  “Saint?” I whisper, afraid.

  When he hears his name, his hands curl into fists. “We have to leave. Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I question, a hitch to my breath. “How?”

  As he spins around, his anger hits me, and I instantly back away. I know he won’t hurt me, but he looks intent on murder. “We are three days away from reaching Russia,” he reveals, unsnapping a black band from around his wrist and tying his hair back. “By eleven seventeen tonight, we will be fifty kilometres away from a port in Romania. It’s the only opportunity we’ll have to escape.”

  My mouth opens and closes, but I can’t speak. He’s clearly been studying our route.

  “We have five minutes.”

  I gulp, wringing my hands in front of me. “Five minutes to do what?”

  I know what, but I need him to say it. I need for him to make it real.

  “Kill that son of a bitch and get the fuck off this yacht,” he says without pause.

  My legs feel heavy so I slump onto the toilet seat, needing a moment to process what I always knew to be true.

  Saint storms over, dropping to his knees before me. He looks up at me, gripping my thighs, pleading for me to speak. And when I do, I barely recognize my own voice. “How do we do that?”

  He exhales in what seems to be relief. “We throw a party.”

  I scrunch up my nose. Has he lost his mind? “A party?” Clearly, I’ve misunderstood.

  I haven’t.

  “Yes. Zoey has enough sleeping tablets to take down a dozen horses, and there is an abundance of vodka on board. It’ll be easy. We just have to convince Aleksei.”r />
  “How do we do that?”

  Saint’s grip on my thighs tightens, which means I’m not going to like his proposal. “We have to give him cause to celebrate. We have to make him think it’s his idea to throw the party.”

  His tone has a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.

  “He’s going to come in here, and most likely”—he swallows deeply—“he’s going to want to see what he bought. He won’t take no for an answer this time. But if you tell him…if you tell him you’re a virgin and that you’re afraid, it’ll buy us some time.”

  My cheeks rival a tomato. “How is that going to work in our favor? You once said that being a virgin is a crime.” I think back to that conversation and what seems like years ago. I didn’t understand what he meant.

  “All he wants is for you to submit. This isn’t about lust. It’s about power. He wants to control you. So if you act like the perfect victim and beg he protect your virtue until you get to Russia, he will.”

  “This isn’t going to work,” I cry, shaking my head.

  Saint refuses to allow me to think otherwise. “It will,” he presses. “You’re a virgin. And it is a crime because to someone like Aleksei, you are the ultimate conquest. He will want to break you slowly and not force you. Because when you do break, he’ll see it as a victory. Aleksei may be many things, but he’s not a rapist.”

  “How can you vouch for him? For his honor?” I beseech he help me see something I simply cannot.

  When a frown tugs at his bowed lips, I wish I never asked. “Because every woman he’s been with has done so on their own free will.”

  Because he will worm his way into your soul and make you forget a life before him existed.

  Zoey’s words of warning sound loudly because she and Saint seem to share the same opinion on Aleksei’s charm. But those women are not me.

  “Is that why you didn’t”—I pause, chewing my bottom lip—“want to sleep with me? You knew we could use my virginity as a bargaining chip?”

  Saint jerks his head back, clearly stunned by my question.

  “On the island, when I asked—” But he doesn’t allow me to finish.

  “I remember,” he interrupts, looking at me with those hypnotic eyes. “And no, that’s not the reason.”

  “Oh.”

  He lowers his chin and takes a deep breath as if weighing what to say. “I haven’t”—he clears his throat—“I haven’t been with someone I…care about in a very long time.”

  “Oh,” I repeat, my stomach full of butterflies.

  I want to press, but it’s enough. For now. I know how hard that was for him to admit.

  “So how do we convince him to throw a party? What are we celebrating? My virginity?” I quip, but when he doesn’t see the humor in my comment, I know he’s proposing exactly that.

  “This is fucking crazy.” I sigh, running a hand down my face.

  Saint squeezes my legs before standing. “It’s the only thing I can think of. We need to disarm his men, and we can’t rely on them falling asleep at the same time. This is the only way we have a fighting shot.”

  He’s right, but this plan isn’t foolproof, and honestly, I’m doubtful it’ll work. But we have to try.

  “So when he comes into the bedroom, I have to play the docile little lamb he wanted?”

  Saint nods slowly.

  “And somehow convince him to throw a party to honor my virginity?” It’s as ridiculous as it sounds.

  “It’ll be okay. I’ll be with you. Just follow my lead, all right?”

  Forever my guardian, Saint looks out for me when I want to give up. “Okay. So if this plan works and we manage to drug the men, then we…kill Aleksei and escape on the inflatable raft?”

  I need to say this aloud to ensure I’ve got it right.

  “Yes,” he replies. “Everything will come down to timing. Those sleeping pills take up to twenty minutes to kick in, and we need to make sure all the men are out for the count before we kill that motherfucker. We can’t risk any of them waking up to raise the alarm or to run to his aid.”

  I gulp.

  “Why do we have such a small window? You said we have five minutes?”

  “Because when we reach a certain point, the waterways will split. I’ve studied the nautical charts countless times. The current will take us in a direct route to Russia, bypassing any ports to stop. Aleksei has done it this way so we avoid passing any people along the way. This is our only opportunity.”

  I was nervous before I knew what he had planned. But now, I am petrified because there is no room for error.

  “We don’t want this plan to kick off too early or too late. Timing is everything. It’s the difference between life and death.”

  Saint isn’t being melodramatic.

  And neither am I when I ask, “What about Zoey?”

  “She’ll be out cold. She won’t have a choice this time when I throw her ass into that raft.”

  “And what happens then?”

  The question is inevitable. Zoey and I have no love lost between us, and honestly, I can’t see us ever getting along. But Saint has never promised me anything other than my freedom. He’s never painted a picture where I live happily ever after with him.

  This was always about saving Zoey. But things have changed. Well, they have for me.

  “Let’s just focus on getting out of here alive.”

  He’s right.

  “So please”—he lowers his lips to my forehead—“for once, do what you’re told, ангел.”

  His touch calms my racing heart. “Okay. I promise.”

  He kisses my brow before straightening. “Go shower. I’ll bring in a change of clothes. Is there anything in particular you wanted to wear?”

  “A suit of armor? A chastity belt?” I offer, only half joking.

  Saint smirks, but it’s laced with exhaustion. Once he’s out the door, I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower. I wash on autopilot, going over the plan in my head. This is insane. If, and that’s a big if, we pull this off, what happens when we get to Romania?

  Do we go our separate ways? I have no identification. No money. What would I do?

  I don’t know for certain, but I assume killing Aleksei will upset a lot of people who will then be out for revenge. We’ll be fugitives so going back and living a normal life doesn’t seem probable. What a mess.

  One thing is for certain. I intend on getting my own vengeance against my beloved husband. He is the reason this entire nightmare began, so it seems fitting to end it with him.

  Such dire thoughts have me quickly switching off the water.

  When I’ve dried off, I see that Saint has left me a change of clothes on the edge of the sink. It’s a pretty white sundress with a red bow at the waist. It seems Aleksei has an obsession with red. Probably because it reminds him of blood.

  After applying deodorant and body lotion, I slip into the underwear and bra set and am thankful when the dress Saint chose covers a lot more skin. I know it’s a false sense of security, however, because god knows what I’ll be walking into when I exit this bathroom.

  I leave my hair down and apply a little makeup. I’m not here to impress anyone.

  Once I look presentable, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and assure myself that this will all be over by tonight. I hope.

  Knowing I can’t hide in here forever, I open the door, only to pause in my tracks when I see Aleksei in the bedroom. I thought I had a little time to prepare myself, but here he stands, smiling at me like we’re friends.

  “You’re a vision.”

  Saint stands behind him, eyes heavy with venom. But he remains quiet.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, walking into the room and standing in front of Aleksei awkwardly.

  When he inhales, then takes a step forward, it takes all my willpower not to recoil. He reaches out and brushes my hair behind my shoulder, taking in my appearance closely. I feel like a bug under a microscope, but I keep my gaze traine
d on Saint.

  Aleksei circles me slowly as it seems he needs to observe me from every angle. He comes to a stop when he’s at my back. His warm breath bathes my neck as he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. “Pictures don’t do you justice.”

  I know he’s talking about the photograph Saint sent to him.

  “May I see you?”

  He’s asking me as though I have a choice.

  Saint’s poker face hasn’t slipped, reminding me of our plans. This is my opportunity to play Aleksei. I just hope it works.

  When I nod shyly, a hiss leaves Aleksei as my submission pleases him. I’m not sure if he wants to do it himself, but I’d rather remain in control of at least one aspect of my life, so I lift the dress over my head, then drop it to pool by my feet.

  Saint and I face one another, and when the green of his eyes are consumed by black, I know the sight of me standing in nothing but my underwear affects him. The moment shatters, however, when Aleksei walks around me.

  He stands in front of me but takes a step back as he devours me whole. I want to cover myself, but I don’t. I allow him to view his property because that’s what I am to him. The thought has me locking eyes with Saint, which is a mistake on my behalf.

  “Why do you keep looking at him? Can he provide you something that I cannot?”

  I avert my gaze quickly, but it’s too late.

  “She obeys me, Alek,” Saint says stiffly. “Nothing more. Don’t you, ангел?”

  I nod, too afraid to speak because Aleksei has clearly seen what I thought were discreet exchanges with Saint.

  Aleksei seems convinced. “I’ve seen you do this to other women, break them, I mean, but she’s different.”

  Time stands still as I take a moment to process what Aleksei just revealed about Saint.

  Other women? How many other women? Saint never told me there were others. I thought I was the first one to take Zoey’s place. But I suppose his comment earlier now makes sense. He knows Aleksei’s track record with women because it seems he’s trained them all.

  I suddenly feel sickened by the fact. I knew he wasn’t, well, a saint but other women? I don’t know how to feel. Betrayed comes to mind. But I rein in my emotion and remain passive.