Saint: A Dark Romance (Saint and Sinners Book 1)

by Ruby Vincent

  “Def not a rule.”

  She elbowed me. “Would living with him really be worse than living with the Terrible Trio? Last month, Alisha stumbled home drunk, burst into your room, and threw up on your bed. While you were in it. You’d rather deal with that than Raul?”

  I crossed the cracked tile ahead of her and held open the door. Wind whipped in my face, teasing my earrings to chime. “He can’t keep a job. Spends all your money on weed. And he’s cheated on you half a dozen times. I’d rather kill Raul and stash his body in a trash can.”

  She laughed. “I’ve cheated on him more than that, but he only knows about a few of them. Dysfunction works for us, babe. If I kicked him down the stairs, he’d probably propose to me.” Gianna popped a kiss on my cheek. “But I love you looking out for me.”

  “Now it’s your turn. Kick him down those stairs, so we can move in together.”

  Gianna howled, striding off. I did believe she enjoyed the color and drama Raul Gibson added to her life. She was a theater major currently working a hotel front desk in between auditions. She couldn’t have the least interesting part she played be her own.

  I linked arms with her as we rounded the building, heading for the stop at the corner of Brixton and Canal Street.

  “Mhhmm. Ay, ay, ay, ladies.” A group of guys broke their huddle to eye-fuck us from across the street. “Damn, you looking good.”

  “Where you going so fast?”

  “How much for a date?”

  I stifled a groan. “Oh no.”

  A stooped, wrinkled missile shot across the road, cutting off a driver who had to swerve to avoid him. Captain skidded to a stop, pulling us up short.

  “How much for the both of you?” He flashed broken, rotting teeth. “Ain’t got much, but you can give an old man a discount.”

  “Old man is right,” Gianna said. “You’re old enough to be our grandfather.”

  “But I’m not.” He thrust his hips at us, ratcheting up the howls from the group of guys watching. “No reason we can’t have a little fun.”

  I grimaced at the piss-stained crotch coming at me.

  Captain was a permanent fixture on my street. He’d taken a liking to the couch someone threw out behind my building, and violently defended it from removal. I found this out when he popped out from behind the dumpster on my move-in day and said the only way I was going near his couch was if I rode him on it.

  “Move on, you leathery, senile perv,” said Gianna. “I swear we do this every fucking day.”

  “That’s because we do.” I took out my pepper spray and shook it. “You know I keep this just for you, Captain. Six feet at all times.”

  He scowled—put out like he didn’t know this rejection was incoming. I looked him up and down.

  “How are you doing, C?” I asked. “Did you go to that shelter I told you about? Get you some food and clean clothes?”

  But looking at him it was clear he didn’t. The bottom half of his pants were in tatters, and the waist was held up by a rolled-up strip of cling wrap. Under two jackets was a brown shirt that used to be white. Still, his clothes were in a better state than him. There were unknown bits of something tangled in his scraggly gray beard. Above his eye was a cut I noticed days ago that dripped blood onto his eyebrow that he had yet to clean off. Didn’t look to be healing properly.

  He flapped a hand. “Nah. If I leave, someone will take my couch.”

  “No one is going to take your couch. Go to the shelter,” I said. “Jeanine is super sweet. She’ll hook you up, and take a look at that cut. Do you remember the address?”

  “Lost the card.”

  I dug in my purse and fished out the shelter’s business card.

  “If you’re really worried about me—” Captain seized my outstretched hand and smeared his face on my palm. “—there’s plenty you can do to make me feel better.”

  Gianna snatched my pepper spray can. Captain received a hard whap to the head. “Told you to move your ass on!”

  “Frigid, teasing bitches!” he howled, taking off across the street. “Cock-sucking sluts!”

  “We’re not sucking your shriveled-up dick!”

  Captain’s tirade continued as Gianna tugged me away.

  “You’re too nice, A. Next time, I’m spraying him before he opens his mouth.”

  “Captain is all talk. Besides, if he gets on his feet and off the couch, I’ll finally be able to throw out my trash without his weekly description of the things he wants me to do to his dick.”

  “Do you feel sorry for him because he’s a vet?” she asked as we reached the bus stop.

  “A vet?” I repeated. “Oh, no. That’s not why he’s called Captain. He stole a naval captain’s hat off a corpse he tripped over in the park, and took a liking to it. Wore it every day and the name stuck.”

  “Again. I have nothing for that.”

  The number twelve bus rode up on time. We climbed on and settled in for an hour and forty minutes of bumps, stops, jostling, and two transfers. Leighbridge had plenty of distance between it and my borough, Rockchapel, and that’s how they liked it.

  I gazed out the window as overturned trash cans, graffitied storefronts, and lecherous old men were replaced by soaring skyscrapers, passing Lamborghinis, and women walking dogs with diamond-crusted collars.

  The bus spat us out in front of Prestige Apartments. My neck bent in half following the shiny silver windows to the very top.

  “Kayla,” Gianna said into the phone. “We’re here. Can we come right up? Uh-huh. Okay. Cool.” She hung up. “We give our names and IDs to the dude at the front desk. Then take the service elevator to the top floor.” She nudged me. “Network the living hell out of those people, A. Get on the O’Hare-Spencer wedding. Become the go-to celebrity chef. Then I’ll be moving into your swanky downtown penthouse.”

  I hummed. “You don’t think I’d have traded up to a better best friend by then?”

  A sharp pain zinged through my backside. My yelp was followed by my laugh.

  “Doesn’t get better than me,” she said, “and I’ll pinch you the next time you forget.”

  I kissed her cheek by way of an apology. I had Gianna when I had nothing. There was no clawing my way to the top if she wasn’t coming up with me.

  The doorman sized us up as he bowed, but didn’t say a word. We walked over to the front desk as ordered, and handed over our identification.

  “These will be returned when you leave.” The guard, Daniel, spoke to his clipboard rather than our faces. “You will be searched upon exiting the Spencer residence and again before you leave the building. Mr. Spencer’s private security will have further instructions when you arrive. Do not disturb the other residents. Do not...”

  I scanned the space as he droned on. Swanky in the extreme but I expected nothing less.

  A glass waterfall installation stretched from floor to ceiling in the middle of the room. Surrounding it were synthetic flowers and palm fronds that swayed under the air-conditioning. Through walls of glass, I peeked a dining room and state-of-the-art gym.

  The bottom floor was empty this time of night. I pictured my empty-bank-account, working-from-open-to-close, sleeping-in-a-shoebox life trying to fit into all of this.

  “—Mr. Spencer’s private security will have further instructions when you arrive,” Daniel continued. “The service elevator is at the back of that hallway.”

  Gianna and I headed in the direction he pointed to.

  “I plan on breaking nearly all of those rules without shame.” She tugged her romper down, popping the girls out to play. “Yes to sneaking the food and wine. Yes to snagging a rich, handsome guest. Yes to both of us slipping away from the party. And yes to pocketing a memento of the night.”

  I pressed the button for the elevator. “Take a sock or something like that. People expect to lose them, so they don’t question if they go missing.”

  Gianna tapped the side of her nose. “That’s why you’re the mastermind in this oper
ation. Got any tips for the cute, wealthy stranger?”

  “Strut around in that outfit and they’ll come to you.”

  The elevator whisked us high in the sky, opening up to a darkened hallway with a single door. Darkened, but not silent. The bass thumped through the walls, letting us know we were in the right place. Kayla poked her head out like she sensed us.

  “GiGi. Madeline.” She threw her arms around Gianna, squeezing the stuffing out of her.

  “Adeline,” I corrected, waving to her. The flying-hug greeting wasn’t for me.

  Kayla was more Gianna’s friend than mine. The three of us went to the same college, but they were the drama majors, while I was hospitality management and working two jobs. Didn’t leave much time for hanging out.

  “Come on in, guys. It’s totally chill.” She took both our hands. “It’s a pre-engagement party Raiden threw to surprise Hazel.”

  “Pre-engagement?” I said as the doorway swallowed us. “Aren’t they already engaged?”

  “Yes. The real engagement party will be in two weeks when Raiden’s parents return from Europe. This is the pre-party for all of their close friends.”

  A low whistle escaped my lips. All two hundred of them.

  Everywhere I looked, people were grinding, dancing, and sweating on something or someone. Raised platforms were in and around the living room—complete with pole. Ladies professional and amateur were giving them a go. Purple glow lights replaced the function of the chandeliers, casting an otherworldly vibe on the party.

  Overhead, a banner congratulated the happy couple, but I’d hazard a guess this soiree was less about Hazel and Raiden and more about getting shit-faced.

  “Are we late?” I shouted over the music.

  Kayla shook her head. “They started early. Going before any of us showed up.” She held out her hands. “I’ll skip sending you to security and take your phones now. Sorry but they’ve gotta be locked up till the end of the night. Stay out of the rooms. Don’t have sex with the guests.” I swore she looked at Gianna when she said that. “Don’t dance. Don’t drink. Otherwise, it’s a party. Have fun.”

  I squinted at one of the women on the platform. More like I squinted at her neck.

  “Hold on. Isn’t that Hazel?”

  Kayla followed my line of sight. “You don’t have to ask. No other woman on the planet is walking around wearing that.”

  Drifting closer, my lips parted, releasing a soft, “Wow.”

  The diamond dangle choker shimmered in the colored glow, trapping the light and tossing it back in pure, mesmerizing beauty. It swayed as she danced, and my eyes with it. Tick-tocking side to side like a pendulum clock.

  “The Symphony of Stars.” Gianna stepped to my side, surrendering to the same hold. “Why can’t I snag a man who gifts me like that?”

  “Because there’s only one Raiden Spencer,” I whispered.

  Gianna couldn’t have heard me, but she nodded all the same.

  Raiden Spencer wooed the sultry, enchanting heiress with the promise of gifting her a diamond for every week they were together. Set in brilliant white gold, the symbol of their love and commitment adorned her neck, growing in time to their march to the altar. One single chain held thirteen diamonds and valued at almost three hundred thousand dollars. Hazel was now up to eight chains splayed on her chest and bound to the band of white gold around her throat.

  “Can you imagine walking around with over two million dollars around your neck?” Gianna asked.

  “No point,” Kayla spoke up. “It’s never going to happen.” She drew us away from the dancing Hazel, recapturing our attention. “The kitchen is through there. Grab a tray, circle the party, and collect your money at the end of the night.”

  I spotted a few women who had been given similar instructions. One ducked a flailing arm and toppled the champagne glass on her tray. The contents spilled down her dress, earning a round of catcalls.

  “This’ll be fun,” I muttered.

  Kayla collected our phones and sent us off.

  Heading for the kitchen, we passed portraits of Hazel, Hazel, a half-naked Hazel, and half-naked Hazel and Raiden on the walls. The future Mrs. Spencer was quick about putting her stamp on this place.

  “We’re in the home of Cinco royalty,” Gianna said. “We’re witnessing how the other half lives, and no surprise, it’s pretty fucking sweet.”

  My jaw fell open. I stopped dead on the marble, eyes rolling in my head trying to take everything in at once.

  The room was one long galley. A massive fridge claimed the middle of the action. Three grown men could fit in that cooler and you’d still have room for the kombucha. A wooden wine rack stretched to the ceiling—splashing old-world charm in the modern white-and-silver kitchen.

  A stainless-steel canopy range hood floated above a professional dual fuel cooktop. Two ovens. Hand-crafted burners. Eleven—count ’em—eleven knobs.

  If appliance catalogs were porn mags, this oven would be the centerfold.

  “Wow, G. Want to steal this whole damn kitchen for me?”

  “Best I can do is a baggie full of stuffed mushrooms and a fork.”

  Laid out on the island were the trays of food and glasses. The caterer had come and gone. I suspected they’d return in the morning to clean up. Until then, the rest was up to us.

  It was like Christmas.

  I popped said mushroom in my mouth and moaned. “Good. Very good. The only thing that would make... this better... is...” I brazenly opened the cabinets and pawed through. “There has to be some in here.”

  “I’m going to find a playmate before you get us kicked out,” Gianna said. “Good luck.”

  I waved over my shoulder. “Ah ha.” The cabinet above the toaster held my prize. I grabbed the bag of pine nuts and got to work crushing and sprinkling it over the mushrooms. Then I set my sights on the rest.

  The salmon toast was sprinkled with fresh dill. The mini quiches received a helping of minced chives. For the shortbread cookies, I went whole ham. Hunting down a saucepan, I filled it with water and set it to boil on the pornographic stove.

  Whether Raiden fed himself or had a chef doing it for him, they kept this place well-stocked with everything I didn’t know I needed. I got weak-kneed holding a melon-baller, and had to fight myself to not claim a Gianna-style souvenir.

  With the chocolate melted down, I set to work dipping the cookies and placing them on the rack to cool. Why did I waffle on coming? This is the best party I’ve been to in years.

  A server wandered in. “Hey, I need more—”

  “Take the salmon,” I ordered. “Those should be eaten before the quiches. Don’t bother carrying around drinks. People are bound to knock into you, and we don’t need broken glass on the floor. Put them on the dining table.”

  “I— Uh. Yes, ma’am.” She scurried out with her tray.

  Now that I’m talking alcohol. I need to change the pairing to match the new flavor profile.

  I went to the wine rack, pulling out bottles in search of a cabernet sauvignon. A complex wine with a smoky, black pepper taste was exactly what I needed.

  “Perfect.”

  A deep, husky baritone filled the room. “I believe that’s mine.”

  Jerking, the bottle nearly slipped from my hand.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Spencer,” I said, spinning around. “I didn’t— You’re not Raiden.”

  Thick, manicured eyebrows crept to the hairline. I followed them up, breath catching as he moved around the island.

  This stranger was tall. Topping out at six feet at least. I imagined that sudden growth spurt made him clumsy as a preteen, but he’d found his stride in the years since. He moved with a fluidity that dancers envied, and stretched his suit over a different part of his toned body.

  I took all of this in during the brief second I was able to look away from his face. Then he cocked his head, elongating the creeping vines inked on his neck, and I was back.

  Heaven have mercy on us.
We mortals weren’t meant to look upon such beauty.

  “Aren’t I?” he said.

  “No.”

  I can’t say why that made him smile. His entire being transformed and the impact bowled me over.

  Eyes a slightly spooky, gunmetal gray captured me as he straightened, passing so close his exhale brushed the tip of my nose. I locked on to them, counting the river blue specks swimming around his dilated pupils. A lock of hair fell between us, cutting off my view and ripping me out of the trance.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  My back bumped against the wine rack. He had pushed me back without laying a hand on me. Unthinkingly, I returned the favor—reaching to push on his chest and getting the same result when he moved to avoid my touch.

  “I know because Raiden Spencer doesn’t have blue hair.” I flicked to the waves of electric blue sprouting from his roots. “If you wanted to impersonate the guy, you should have looked at a photo or something.”

  He laughed—a deeply pleasing sound that curled my toes. “Fair point. But that’s mine all the same. You’re going to hand that over without a fuss, aren’t you, Bunny?”

  “Bunny?” I blurted—though the white, fuzzy dress and two balls of hair piled on top of my head made my new nickname easy to guess. “I, uh, yeah.” I passed over the bottle. “Are you a friend of Hazel and Raiden?”

  “Friend of a friend’s friend.”

  “Oh.” I was usually more articulate than this. But then again it wasn’t every day I ran into men that looked like him.

  I flicked over his shoulder. “Do you like shortbread cookies? The chocolate should be cool by now.” I went over to the rack, picking up one for him and for myself. He smiled at the offering.

  Damn, he really is handsome.

  His bottom lip was fuller than the top. Both were stained a light pink that clashed with the raven shadow lining his jaw and continuing up and over his mouth. “Did you make these?” he asked as he took it.

  “Can’t take the credit. My only addition is the chocolate.” The melty, floury treat crumbled on my tongue, drawing a moan out of me. “My name’s Adeline. What’s yours?”