Fallen Saint (All the Pretty Things Trilogy Volume 2)

by Monica James

  There is a tremble to Dominic’s touch as he grips my chin and presses his lips to mine. He kisses me, attempting to coax me to reciprocate, but I’m numb. He begins touching my naked body, over my breasts and down my stomach.

  A single tear slips free, but I accept my fate. I am tired, so fucking tired of fighting. Is this how Ingrid and Dominic feel? Is their spirit broken too? After a while, the fight in one will die because how many times can one get back up after being knocked down time after time?

  I brace for my innocence to be shattered once and for all…but it never comes.

  “What’s the matter? Do it!” Oscar screams, but to my surprise, Dominic shakes his head and slowly rises off me.

  I don’t know what’s happening? Is this yet another cruel joke? A false sense of security before they destroy me for good?

  “I-I can’t. Forgive me, but I can’t.” He meets my eyes and nods an apology as he bends to pick up my T-shirt.

  I stare dumbfounded, not sure what’s going on.

  But Oscar storms over, beyond livid as he punches Dominic in the stomach, resulting in him buckling over with a pained grunt. “If you want something done, then you’ve got to do it yourself.”

  Dominic tries to roll away but is too late as Oscar kicks him in the side, stomach, back. Wherever he can strike him, he does. Ingrid screams, rocking backward and forward, pulling her hair as she watches the horror unfold.

  I spring up, still very naked, ready to take this bastard down with my bare hands, but he turns and slaps my cheek. The force is so great, I stagger backward, trying to catch my breath.

  “We will see what Saint thinks when I send you back to him in teeny-tiny pieces.” The threat isn’t empty, and I run for my life, clutching my side as I’m winded.

  The door suddenly bursts open, and when I see Alek, I am actually thankful he’s here. When he sees my very naked state, his confusion turns to absolute pure rage. “дорогая?”

  I can explain everything later because right now, I just want to flee.

  “Let’s go,” I pant, intent on running out the door. But the two men who subdued Max stand guard. They don’t mask their leering, which has me covering my modesty with my hands.

  “Oscar, what is the meaning of this?” Alek shouts, standing in front of me to shield me from prying eyes as best as he can.

  Oscar is breathless, and his usual cool demeanor has slipped as he brushes the tousled hair from his eyes. “I was just getting to know your дорогая. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

  I peer at Oscar from around Alek’s taut frame. Of course, it is. So why isn’t Alek stringing him up by the balls?

  Oscar reveals why. “Because I didn’t have a problem when you did the same to my Ingrid. Isn’t that right?”

  I gasp, unsure what I’m hearing.

  “This is hardly the same thing,” he spits, shaking his head. “She wasn’t running from a room, fearing for her life.”

  Alek quickly removes his jacket and turns, offering it to me. As much as I want to tell him to go to hell, I accept it and quickly slip it on. It comes mid-thigh and covers everything, seeing as he’s triple my size. He nods, his eyes full of apology.

  “Regardless, you had no qualms taking what was mine.”

  Alek swallows deeply, appearing…remorseful for the fact. He turns back around to face Oscar while I shift toward the wall to watch this all unfold. “Yes, you’re right. It was wrong of me. But that doesn’t warrant you terrorizing Willow.”

  Ingrid’s tears have stopped as she looks at Alek with nothing but affection. What the hell is going on?

  “What makes her so different?” Oscar asks, gesturing his head my way. I use the wall as my shield and press my back up against it. “How does what I did differ from what you did? Didn’t you take what was mine and do with her as you pleased?”

  “Enough,” Alek warns, the air thick with tension.

  But Oscar doesn’t take the hint. “No, tell me. I want to know.”

  Alek storms forward, towering over Oscar as he bellows, “I actually care about Ingrid’s well-being! You are doing this merely out of spite. That’s the difference, friend. Willow means more to me than you’ll ever know! Touch her again, and we’ll have a problem.”

  The room falls deathly silent while I blink once, winded by his confession.

  I have no idea what’s going on, but could it be Ingrid and Alek were a thing? It sounds like it. He did say Alek owed him. So kidnapping, raping, and murdering me were his way of getting even?

  But Oscar didn’t take me to get back at Alek. He did it because of Saint. My eyes widen because he now knows about Saint and me. Oscar seems to read my thoughts and meets my terrified stare. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Alek. I don’t know what came over me. Please accept my apology.”

  Alek looks like he’d rather eat glass, but he eventually nods. “Let’s never mention this again. We don’t want anyone else to find out about this indiscretion.”

  It’s a threat. If Oscar doesn’t back off, Alek will ruin him.

  “Very well. Water under the bridge.”

  Like hell it is, but when Oscar trains his eyes my way, he makes it clear he has the upper hand as he knows my secret. He knows without a doubt that Saint is coming for me now that he’s free.

  “Can you forgive me, Willow?” The arrogant bastard. He knows I don’t have a choice. If I make a fuss, he will tell Alek about Saint and me. “If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

  This will end in one of our deaths. That is the only way. But for now, I nod. “Let’s go, Alek.”

  Alek stands rigid as I can only imagine him leaving is a sign of weakness. If he’d gotten here a second later, god knows what he would have found.

  When he doesn’t move, I gently reach for his bicep. “Please. I just want to go home.”

  The word is out before I can stop myself, and it’s the first time I have referred to my prison in such a way. Alek’s shoulders eventually drop before he turns around and nods. “Okay.”

  Ingrid sniffs, reminding us that she doesn’t have the luxury of leaving. She and Dominic are trapped in this hell forever. Dominic’s back rests against the wall as he clutches his side, breathing deeply through his bloody nose. I can’t leave them to the mercy of Oscar especially after what Dominic did.

  He could have been a monster, but he showed humanity. And I have to do the same.

  “There is one thing,” I say, hoping this doesn’t backfire. “Don’t punish them.”

  Alek is taken aback as I’ve spoken out of line, but he allows it.

  Oscar swallows, not happy with my request, but he’s in no position to argue. “You have my word.”

  Dominic peers up at me and nods his gratitude. I may have saved him this time, but who will be there the next time and the time after that? Ingrid weeps, covering her beautiful face with her hands. Alek grips my elbow and leads me out the room.

  Max stands by the front door with his tail between his legs. He fucked up—epically. When I meet his eyes, if possible, there is more hatred than before. But he opens the door and leads us down the stairs to the idling SUV.

  I can’t get in fast enough. Alek slides is after me while Max takes the wheel. The moment he puts the car into drive, I sigh in relief, sagging against the seat. I have never been happier to leave a place. There is silence, but it speaks volumes.

  “Are you all right? Did he…” There is no need for him to elaborate.

  “No, he didn’t. Dominic didn’t do what he wanted.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he mutters under his breath. “So typical of him. Making others do his dirty work. I’m so sorry this has happened. None of it is your fault.” He makes clear who is to blame as he glares at the back of Max’s head. “Luckily, Max was able to do one thing right and called me when he did.”

  Max avoids looking at us in the rearview mirror, and instead, he focuses on the road. But that soon changes.

  “It’s not
Max’s fault,” I say, which has him meeting my eyes with nothing but curiosity plaguing him. “He thought he was doing the right thing. No doubt Oscar lied to him, making him believe you were waiting for me. Oscar is a manipulator. I’ve seen it myself.”

  One might ask why I’m saving the ass of the man who delivered me to the devil. The reason is, I need as many allies as I can get now that Oscar knows the truth.

  Alek sighs, running a hand down his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen him rattled. “You’re right.”

  Max nods, expressing his gratitude. But this doesn’t come without strings attached.

  “Goddamn him! I’m so sorry you got caught up in his sick games.” He grips the leather seat beneath him, causing it to squeak under the force. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he actually cares. But he isn’t capable of such a human emotion.

  Then why did he save you? says a voice, which I quash down quickly.

  “Will he hurt Ingrid and Dominic?”

  Alek shrugs, unfastening a button on his shirt as it seems he is having trouble breathing. “No, I don’t think so. They are safe. For now. That was very noble of you to ask for their clemency.”

  “Did…did you really do what he said?” I know I’m treading dangerous waters, but what have I got to lose?

  Alek turns to look out the window, but he eventually replies. “Yes. I was wrong to do what I did. Ingrid was not mine, yet when she slipped into my bed, I didn’t say no. Oscar has every right to hold a grudge.”

  “What kind of world is this?” I whisper, so broken and alone. A tear runs down my cheek.

  “Please don’t cry.” He sighs heavily. “I’m…sorry.”

  Sorry? He’s apologizing for what, exactly? He’s done so much.

  “When will this end?”

  I’m expecting Alek to give me the same spiel I’ve heard a million times before—that this is how they do it here—but he doesn’t.

  He doesn’t say a word.

  Day 60

  THE MASQUERADE BALL is in two weeks. That’s all I have. Two fucking weeks to get the hell out of here if Saint doesn’t pull through.

  I’m proud to say I have finished decoding the journal, but now, the question is, what am I supposed to do with this information? I could blackmail Alek because the dirt on him spans for years. But after he came to my “rescue,” doing that feels almost…wrong.

  Compared to the other game players, Alek’s crimes are far less callous. Yes, he’s Russia’s number one drug lord, mafia boss, and all-round bad guy, but unlike Oscar, whose cruelty I witnessed firsthand, Alek’s crimes are all about power and money.

  The people he’s in possession of came to him either voluntarily or they were used to settle a debt, like me. But apart from Sara and me, it seems after a while, these people don’t want to go. Look at Zoey. She did everything in her power to stay.

  Because he will worm his way into your soul.

  Her words still echo loudly because when they were first spoken, I scoffed, believing that would never happen to me. But I can’t deny that being around Alek doesn’t…repulse me like it once did. He’s almost pleasant at times, making it hard to plot his demise.

  However, I only have to remember why I’m here, and such nonsense soon disappears.

  When I hear a knock on my door, I quickly hide the journal in its usual spot and wait for whoever to enter. It’s Alek.

  “Hi, I haven’t caught you at a bad time?” he asks. I’m standing in the middle of the room not really doing much of anything.

  “No, it’s okay. I was going to read.” I gesture with my head to the newspaper on the nightstand. “But it’s in Russian, so you know…I don’t read Russian.”

  Alek’s lips twitch. “I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me for lunch. I have some business to attend to in town.” He looks a little casual for a business meeting in khaki pants and a white button-down shirt.

  I arch a brow. “Business?”

  He nods but doesn’t disclose what that business is.

  The last time he had business to attend to, I witnessed a lot of bloodshed. I can’t stomach a repeat performance.

  He must read my apprehension. “It’s a business meeting with the mother superior who runs the local orphanage. I am a benefactor and like to check in from time to time.”

  My mouth hinges open as I can’t hide my utter surprise.

  Alek laughs in response. “Thought I was just a bad guy, right? I know what it’s like to be hungry. And to not have a home.”

  I’m speechless because I wouldn’t expect him to do something like this. Giving money to an orphanage is thoughtful, kind, and generous, and I would have never associated those qualities with Alek—until now.

  “Sure, I’ll come. Thank you for asking me.”

  Alek smiles, catching me off guard again. “I’ll wait for you outside. Take your time.” And with that, he closes the door, allowing me to get ready.

  Once he’s gone, I stare into space, unsure what just happened. I suddenly feel off center as though everything I thought I knew has been tipped on its side. Sure, the money is dirty, blood money, but does that make the food it buys or the shelter it provides for the children any less substantial?

  I hate that the answer is no.

  Those children have no home and no family, so that money provides them with a small comfort most of us take for granted. Thanks to Alek, they can go to sleep with food in their bellies and have a safe place to lay their heads for the night.

  Exhaling, I wonder why Saint failed to mention this in his notes. It shouldn’t make a difference, but it does. And I don’t know why that is.

  Shaking my head to dispel such thoughts, I quickly slip into a pair of jeans and boots. I have on a light knitted sweater which seems appropriate for a meeting with a mother superior. Ensuring the journal is tucked away securely, I open the door and see Alek standing outside, scrolling through his phone.

  He looks up and smiles.

  All this smiling throws me for a loop.

  “I thought I’d drive us today.”

  “Really?” I ask incredulously. “You know how to do that? Drive, I mean.”

  I’m not trying to be funny, so when Alek chuckles, I look at him like he’s grown a second head. We walk to the garage in silence, and only when the lights flicker on the flaming red Ferrari, deactivating the alarm, is the silence broken.

  “I certainly do,” he says, referring to my comment as he opens the door for me. “Buckle up.”

  The inside is sleek but also ostentatious. This car’s worth could feed a small starving nation.

  “Don’t you like it?” Alek asks, getting into the driver’s side.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Okay?” He smirks, reaching for his seat belt. “Most wouldn’t refer to riding in a Ferrari as just okay.”

  “I’m not most,” I counter with lightning-quick speed.

  Alek nods, adjusting the mirrors before kick-starting this beast to life. “I’m beginning to see that.”

  I don’t have a chance to reply because he tears out of the garage, the tires squealing to keep up. I squeak and ensure my seat belt is fastened because he wasn’t joking when he said to buckle up. He drives the road with ease, his steel blue eyes focused ahead.

  “Where are your men? You never leave home without them,” I say, turning over my shoulder to see no cars are following us.

  “On some occasions, I venture out alone.”

  I scoff in response. “Up until a few days ago, you had a personal bodyguard. That’s not exactly venturing out alone material.” Now that the topic is breached, I ask, “Are you getting a new one?”

  “New what?” he questions, his eyes never leaving the road.

  “Bodyguard. Hitman. Whatever you want to call it.” I don’t know the right terminology.

  Alek takes his time to answer. “Saint was one of a kind. It’ll be hard to replace someone like him.”

  I keep a straight face, not wanting my emotio
n to show.

  “If that’s the case, then why did you let him go?”

  “Because it was time. He’s served me well. But I gave him my word.” There isn’t a lick of deceit in Alek’s words. He truly means them.

  Regardless of their relationship, it’s evident they both respected the other. I remember Saint once told me that Alek was a man of his word. It’s all so primitive. And fucking weird.

  “Do you miss Zoey?”

  Alek turns his chin slowly to look at me. “No,” he replies flatly. “You can’t miss something you never had.”

  I ponder on his statement as I’m unsure what he means. “And what was that?”

  His breathing is shallow, but when his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, I know my question has stirred something in him. “I never loved Zoey.”

  “Oh,” I reply, swallowing deeply.

  “She was a…satisfying companion but not a game changer.”

  “How can you speak about people that way?” I question, shaking my head in disgust.

  “I’m honest, Willow. Unlike most, I speak my mind. I don’t have time for pretenses.” He shrugs as though that is a valid response.

  “You dispose of women,” I argue, cutting through his holier than thou crap. “When you grow bored, you trade them in for an upgrade. Something faster. Fancier. Less complicated.”

  “Is that what you call yourself? Less complicated?” he questions with an amused grin. “If that were the case, I would have disposed of you the moment we met.”

  Turning in my seat to glare at him, I state, “I make no apologies. My husband, who actually only married me to trick me, sold me to you. Like a cow at market. I think that warrants my behavior, don’t you?”

  “Your husband is a weak waste of space. Don’t punish us all for his cowardly actions.”

  “That’s rich! You’re the reason for his cowardly actions.” I turn back around and slouch in my seat with a huff. How dare he try to see himself as anything but a monster.

  He gives me time to stew, but as usual, he has to have the last word. “You may think that, but I never forced his hand. He knew the stakes when he agreed to play that game of poker.”