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Saint’s journal saidShaken, not stirred, which is a James Bond quote, andSeven deadly sinswith+2.At the time, I was completely perplexed to the meaning of this all. But now, I know what it means.
Borya is the missing member of The Circle. His James Bond-inspired introduction was the first clue to unveil his identity. And the seven deadly sins come into play because the second sin is greed. And Borya reeks of it. Not to mention, Alek let drop he had a wife, but it’s fairly safe to assume that he and Astra are a thing. No wonder Saint used that quote. Their union, like a shaken martini, is very, very cold.
“I’m sorry about that,” Alek says, his jaw clenched as he watches his frenemies walk away. “I shouldn’t let them get to me like that, but the wager is one I couldn’t say no to.”
“The necklace means something to you?” I ask softly, unsure if he’ll answer me or not.
He inhales deeply, appearing to steady himself. “Yes. It was my mother’s.”
A whoosh of air leaves me as I am taken aback by his revelation. His mom’s? From the story he told me about her, I thought there was no love lost between them. So why is winning back her necklace so important? And why does Astra have it in the first place?
My head begins to throb. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Are you all right?”
“No,” I reply, not seeing the point in being coy. “I want nothing to do with these people. And neither should you.”
Before he has a chance to get a word in edgewise, I lift my dress and excuse myself through the crowd. Thanks to his speech, everyone knows who I am, but I have no desire to converse with anyone because I need some air.
Once I break through, I race up the stairs, my feet barely able to keep up with my frantic steps. The hallway seems never-ending, but when I finally burst into Saint’s room, I slam the door shut and lean up against it, catching my breath.
This is far harder than I thought it would be. For the greater good, I was certain I could play nice, but I don’t think I can go back downstairs. The thought of pretending for a second longer turns my stomach. I need to find Saint.
God only knows what he agreed to, to be here. I can only imagine what sick and disgusting things Oscar made him do. He will get his pound of flesh, and it pains me to know that means in the literal sense.
“We need to get out of here,” I whisper as a surge of adrenaline courses through me.
Without a moment to waste, I yank open the door but bump straight into a wall of divine smelling muscle. I bounce back, steadying myself as I grip the wall to keep from falling over. The masked man rushes into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
His mask, divided into black and white halves, is the perfect analogy to describe him because even masked, I know him. Saint encompasses both, but right now, with his eyes sparking alight, it’s evident he skates close to the edge. He grips the bottom of the mask and yanks it off his face, revealing the light in my forever darkness.
He looks dangerously pissed off, and the room suddenly shrinks, clouded by his fury. I wait for him to speak, but it seems he can’t find the right words to properly reveal what he wants to say.
I’ve never seen him dressed up before, and I know this isn’t the time, but I can’t help but admire how good he looks. He doesn’t look refined or gentlemanly. He looks like he’s ready to eat me alive.
Instinctively, I take a step back, but that doesn’t deter him in the slightest.
“You kissed him,” he states in a low timbre, his blazing gaze rivaling the sun.
“I-I…I didn’t want to rouse any suspicion.”
My answer should appease him. It doesn’t.
He prowls forward, engulfing me with his commanding frame. “I am going to rip him apart with my bare hands.”
And I don’t doubt him for one second.
“Saint,” I coo. Placing an apprehensive hand to his cheek, I’m thankful he doesn’t pull away. “It didn’t mean anything. I did what I had to. Just as you have.”
His nostrils flare.
“Tell me it’s time to go,” I whisper in a plea. “I can’t bear to be here anymore. What’s the plan?”
Inhaling, he closes his eyes for a few seconds, and when he reopens them, he seems focused, and the anger has dispersed. For now. “We leave when they sit down to play their game of poker.”
My mouth hinges open as realization hits. “You know about that?”
He nods slowly.
