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He grinned at that. "I did know you were a photojournalism major. I just guess I don't really know what that means."
"You know, people that go to interesting places and report on things. I like to write, and I like to capture stories. Seemed like a good fit. Besides, that way I guess I can be somewhat anonymous."
He studied me carefully. "It's always about staying anonymous, isn't it?"
"Usually, yeah. Anyway, I need to get some shots for this assignment for Xander. You met him. He's a giant pain in the ass."
"I have some of his photos. Maybe you saw the one in my office?”
"Oh, I saw it. He's exceptional. But then of course he'd be the first one to tell you that."
Saint grinned at that. "He's a character. I like him."
"You haven’t even seen just how much of a character he can be. But the one side that we all try to avoid is his bad side. I have a critique coming up, so I need to go shoot."
"Okay, I'm coming with."
I laughed. "Why? I'll have security. I'm not going to ditch them or anything."
"Like I said, it's important we be seen together and also, I'm curious. About you, what you do, how you do it. Do you mind?"
Did I mind? How the hell was I supposed to answer that?
For starters Saint was… well, Saint. I found it easier to refer to him in my brain as Saint because when I referred to him as Jasper, it somehow felt intimate. And that was worrying. So I told myself to call him Saint. But the other thing was, even in his casual attire, he still looked like something out of a Calvin Klein advert.
Maybe Levi's. Honestly, it was distracting. People looked when you were walking with someone like him. Stubble dusted his jaw. His hair looked like he'd only just raked his hand through it with a little bit of gel. He looked disheveled and sexy and like he was going to toss somebody in bed and spend a very thorough lazy day making sure that they were completely boneless.
"You would hate it. It's just boring walking around, you know. And I've got security. You don't have to worry. I'm not going to do anything dumb. We told the whole world that I'm your fiancée, so I won't do anything stupid like making out with any hot blokes, all right? You don't have to babysit me."
His brow furrowed, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth and gave me a sheepish smile. "Honestly, I just wanted to get to know you better. For all intents and purposes, we are flat mates now, and it’s my first day off in a while. I thought it would be… nice."
Oh, fuck me. He was trying to be nice. "Ah fuck, I'm sorry. I just don't want you to feel obligated. You've already done so much."
"It's no big deal if you would rather be by yourself."
"No, no, of course not. I'm happy for the company, honestly." I rushed to add, "Please, join me. Okay?"
"If you're sure."
"Yeah. It's just an assignment to capture joy in the city, and since the sun is actually out, I can capture joy in any park.”
"Do I have time for coffee?
"I'm losing light. We'll grab coffee on the way."
"Oh Lord. You do drive a hard bargain."
Saint, as it turned out, was true to his word. As we walked and talked, exploring South Bank and then heading into central London with our massive bodyguards in tow, he chatted with me easily. Well, more easily after he had coffee.
We walked around Covent Garden and Soho acting goofy, playing around.
That's when I realized that Saint was really only a few years older than I was. Between his bespoke suits and his determination to fix everything for everyone, he always seemed older. But today he was practically boyish. Kind of a dick at times, arrogant, bossy certainly, but there was an inherent joyfulness about him.
When I finished shooting, we packed up my camera bag, and he handed it to one of the guys to take back to the car.
When my hands were free, he took one of mine in his and pulled me along. "Come on. We're off to the cafe."
We found this little tucked-away nook in the middle of Covent Garden, and I was shocked to find that it wasn't overrun by pedestrians and tourists.
