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It's almost 11p.m.
I didn't know he still had people over at this time.
And why didn’t the house help tell me he had company?
I guess she didn't know.
I wish somebody had told me. Then I wouldn't have walked in here in a shirt that leaves very little to the imagination.
Fuck.
"I'm so sorry," I rush out, pausing at the door and holding it. "I didn't know you were here. I mean, of course I knew you, Saint, were here. I just thought you were alone."
Should I run back out?
No!
I would need to turn around to run and then everyone will get an eyeful.
Saint sits behind a giant mahogany desk and he leans back on his chair, looking deep in thought.
"It's okay, Princess," he says. "We were done here anyway."
With a flick of his fingers, he orders the men out before thinking better.
"Wait!" He yells out, standing up and walking over to me.
"Don't you fucking look at her," he growls and the men lower their heads. He walks to stand in front of me as they troop out, not lifting their heads at all.
When the last one is out, he breathes a sigh of relief before turning to grip my hand and lead me to where he’d been seated.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he asks as he sits and tugs me onto his lap.
My hands settle on his chest.
"I had no idea," I insist. "When I woke up and saw that you were gone, I wanted to see you so I got dressed and asked for directions."
His hand settles on my waist and draws me closer. I place my head on his chest, finally getting the closeness I’ve been craving since I woke up.
"Did I wake you when I got out of bed?" he asks.
"Not really," I reply. "I was dozing, but I only realized you weren’t there when the bed started feeling cold without you in it."
He kisses the top of my head and I smile, feeling at peace.
"Why did you get up so late?" I ask, unable to cushion my questions.
He chuckles and his chest rumbles in my ear. "Trying to safeguard you, princess. I’m trying to find out who came for you today."
"Any luck?"
"No. I haven't been able to pinpoint them yet."
What exactly does he do to get so many enemies?
I attempt to stifle the thoughts in my head, surrounding what Saint does. I know I should probably mind my own business … but I ask the question anyway.
"I heard someone call you Don," I feel his breathing stutter. "I know Dons belong to mafias but is that what you are? What exactly do you do?"
