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"You know, not to be too fatalistic, but I believe we would have. Under different circumstances, maybe, but we absolutely would have met. And to be fair, I probably would have gotten you shot at again."
He laughed then. "You know, that's fair. And I'll take it."
"Excellent." We'd been interrupted the other night, so I wasn't quite sure what to do. If we were picking up where we left off, or what it all meant. But I did the thing that I wanted to do in the moment instead of holding myself back. Instead of trying to over-analyze the situation, I stood on tiptoes and kissed him onthe cheek. Just when I thought I had a handle on everything that was going on, he had to go and build me a room. There was no way in hell I could keep my feelings in check after that. It didn't matter how hard I tried.
I was going to fall hard.
CHAPTER 31
KAYA
“You had bettermarry that man for real. He made you a room!”
“I know it’s so sweet. I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me, ever.”
“But? I feel like there’s a but in your voice,” Gemma prompted.
How did I make her understand? “I’ve never been able to trust anything. I’m always holding back, waiting to see if it lasts. I need to process. And even after a while I worry that it will all vanish.”
“Honey, these circumstances are unusual and would set anyone off kilter. But try to live in the moment, and when good things happen take them at face value. He gave you a gift. Accept it. And maybe you learn that not everything is chaos. Sometimes it’s a little slice of peace. Like your new room.”
“How did you get so wise?”
“It’s all the wine I drink, darling. Don’t over think it.”
“I’ll try.”
The doorbell to the penthouse rang not thirty seconds after I said goodbye to Gemma. That meant someone had gotten past the armed doorman downstairs.
Okay, calm down.
I had never heard it ring. I knew it must just mean the visitor was obviously on the approved list or probably just Westin. I checked the panel and expected to see a smiling, somewhat goofy, handsome face. Instead, I saw a face that was all too familiar, and my stomach sank. But it was not the face of the man I spent so much time thinking about. This was a different, older, harsher version of Saint’s face.
I opened the door with a knot in my gut, knowing this was not going to go well. "Mr. Saint, Jasper is not here."
"I know Jasper is not here. Jasper is where Jasper always is. Off playing soldier."
"Excuse me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Don’t tell me you don’t know. Just move out of the way girl. I'm coming in."
My attempts to stop him were futile as he pushed past me into the living room. I could have stopped him, but he was Saint's father. Besides, if there was a problem, I could just run screaming and Westin or one of his men would come running for me. They knew he was here, so it must be safe, right?
He glanced around the main room. "Well, I see you've made yourself at home. You know, this thing that you're doing," he clasped his hands together, "it's not going to work. You can’t fool me. And I don't want you to be disappointed when you try to fool yourself."
I frowned at him. "I don't understand what you mean."
"You know, the thing with Jasper. I know you two getting together was rather hasty. And it's fine. I'm not judging. All I'm saying is, everyone knows it's not going to last."
I frowned at him. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course, dear."
"Why do you hate him?"
He frowned. "Who?"
"Your son. Why do you hate him? What's he done to you?"
