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She huffed, finally giving up the fight.
“When I went to order the food, I noticed I had a voicemail from my doctor. She told me she couldn’t treat me because my STD results show I have syphilis.” Whitney inhaled a deep breath. “You’re the only man I’m having sex with, so who else could have given it to me?”
Saint’s hands dropped from her arms. “I didn’t give you that shit. We get tested together every six months.”
She chuckled. “Then you need to go ahead and get tested because I’m sure you have it too. Now which one of your whores gave it to you?”
Licking the corner of his mouth, Saint sat on the bed next to her. “I haven’t been fucking no one but you, Whitney. Except…” He stood, quickly snatching his clothing that was scattered across the floor.
“Except what?”
“For Tristan’s birthday. You know she finessed me into spending it with her by having her party at the club I was hosting at for the night. I got drunk as fuck, I ain’t gon’ lie, and we had sex. But that was the first time we had sex in over a year, Whit.”
Her head shook almost as violently as her leg was. “It doesn’t matter if it was one time or one hundred. You slept with her and gave me something because of it.” Whitney’s voice broke and eyes watered. When he tried to walk over and console her, she lifted her hands to stop him. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Whitney…”
“Itrustedyou. I laid out rules to keep you from playing with my heart, and youstillmanaged to play with my health and my life. I’llnevertrust you again.”
Between her tears and the sadness that covered her face, Saint was feeling worse and worse. He was barely attracted to his wife at this point. The last thing he expected was for one night with her to lead to this.
Saint didn’t give a fuck about himself having the shit; he just hated giving it to Whitney. She didn’t ask for a lot, which made him want to give her the world. If there was nothing else that he took pride in besides his music career, it was the bond he had with Whitney. Now… it seemed like that was broken.
Even when she wasn’t trying to, Tristan had a way of fucking up every good thing in Saint’s life. It had been that way for years now, but this was the final straw. He didn’t give a damn if she was his manager and the president of his label—every tie they had to one another needed to be loosened.
“Baby…” He called softly, kneeling before her and putting his hands on her knees. “I swear to God I’ve tried to be nothing but careful with you. I haven’t had sex with any other women since we linked back up. You know my situation with Tristan and how I’m basically trapped in this marriage. I messed up one time with her, and that’s no excuse, but I promise you I wasn’t out here carelessly fucking off with women that I didn’t think I could trust.”
“Yeah.” She chuckled as she wiped her face. “Just your wife.”
Saint wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to make this situation better, but he had to try. “I’m really sorry, Whitney. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Please tell me that you know this was a mistake.”
“It doesn’t matter if it was a mistake or not. You told me I was the only woman you weren’t wearing a condom with.”
“And that was the truth, except that one night, and I blocked it out of my head because I hated it happened.” When she didn’t reply, Saint asked, “What can I do to make this up to you? How can I make amends?”
“You can’t. This is my fault. I should have never started fucking with you again… especially knowing you were still with her. This is my punishment.”
The tears started again, and they were too much for Saint to take. Sitting next to her, he pulled her into his arms as he repeatedly whispered that he was sorry. Saint took Whitney allowing him to console her as a sign that she’d forgive him and allow him to stay, but that wasn’t the case. The moment she was all cried out, she asked him to leave… and never come over again. As much as Saint didn’t want to, he agreed. He couldn’t control the way Whitney responded to his betrayal, even if it wasn’t intentional. He would, however, confront his wife and get to the bottom of this…
ChapterTwo
Tristan
As Saint madehis way over to Tristan, her eyes rolled. If anyone would have told her the sight of her husband would make her sick when they first met years ago, she wouldn’t have believed them. Unfortunately, time had been less than good to them.
Professionally, they were a power couple. She managed Saint’s career and made sure they were well taken care of financially. Personally, they couldn’t stand each other. Well, Saint couldn’t stand her, and his resentment of her over the years led to her hating him and wanting to make him suffer.
Was she bitter? Perhaps. But after everything she’d done for them, for him, Tristan wanted everything she was owed. It didn’t matter how much Saint wanted a divorce; Tristan didn’t plan to give him one. Their lives were too entangled with music, money, and marriage… and she was not going to give him an easy way out.
Sitting across from her at her desk, Saint released a long, low breath. She could feel heat radiating from his body, and his anger made her smile.
“What, Malcolm?”
“I’ve asked you repeatedly not to call me that, and the fact that you continue to do so makes it clear you exist just to irritate me.”
Tristan chuckled with a shake of her head, returning her attention to the reports she was going over. “That’s your name.”
“No, it isn’t. I had my name changed when I turned eighteen. You know that.”
