When he’s gone and the door closes behind him, I finally let out a shaky sigh of relief. My legs feel like jelly, but I don’t have time to break down.
Saint grabs my hand, tugging me toward where we’d come in earlier. “Hurry, Sin. Let’s get out of here.”
“But what about—” I point to Neal’s body, trotting to keep pace with Saint’s long strides.
“Not our problem anymore,” he replies.
No, I suppose it’s not. And for the moment, Saint and I are safe. Mercier seems to like Saint. If I had to guess, we’re definitely going to be part of the big heist, whatever that may be.
I wonder how long it will be until we’re free? Not that Saint and I have talked about future plans, but I feel the burning need to do so.
Something important happened in that warehouse.
Saint and I dodged death. Mercier could have easily turned that gun on us to wipe out the last two witnesses to a murder conducted while perpetrating a robbery at his behest.
We have no more room to fuck up.
We have to be extremely careful going into this next phase with Mercier. Our lives are now on the line.CHAPTER 17SaintCan’t say I care for Mercier, not even a little bit. While I had no love lost for Neal, when Mercier killed him, he’d become no better than the man with the bullet in his brain.
But I will have to say I’m glad about the invitation that arrived at my hotel room this morning. Sin and I were having a lazy morning with breakfast in bed when the knock at the door came.
A courier held a square envelope in cream parchment with calligraphy lettering on the front. At first, my heart had sunk when I saw how it was addressed.
Monsieur Saint Bellinger and Mademoiselle Sindaria Westin
Its delivery to my room informs me that not only does Mercier keep track of my whereabouts, but he also knows Sin and I are together.
I’m not overly worried that he knows we’re sleeping together. William would have told him about mine and Sin’s history together. Perhaps he realizes it’s only natural we might reconnect.
I don’t like the fact he knows where I’m staying, though. I registered at the hotel using the alias I’d traveled under, which means he had someone follow me from Margeaux, probably after my very first visit. It means I have to assume Mercier’s eyes are on me at all times now.
Once I got past the shock of seeing our names together, I moved back into the bedroom where I was momentarily distracted by a naked Sin rolling out of bed.
“What’s that?” she’d asked.
I stared at her, completely paralyzed by all that beauty and sex standing there until she nodded pointedly at the envelope.
I tore it open, then scanned the contents. “Looks like we’re going to a party next weekend at Mercier’s chateau. And… he’s enclosed a gift card to an upscale clothing store. The note says we should buy to our heart’s content as a thank you for a job well done.”
Sin snorted as she headed into the bathroom to start the shower. I’d tossed the envelope on the bed and followed her, intent on taking advantage of her in there.
Now we’re at said clothing store—which is by appointment only—getting ready to spend an obscene amount of Mercier’s money. I’ve already picked out a dove-gray silk suit that only needs minor alterations, which will be done by the end of the day. Sin’s having a bit more fun by trying on dress after dress, then modeling them for me.
For a moment, as I sit here on a velveteen couch sipping champagne while Sin spins slowly in front of a mirror on a raised dais, watching the skirt flare out, I forget the magnitude of what I’ll be facing in the days or weeks to come. I briefly escape into my mind, pretending Sin and I are free. That we’re merely going out to a fancy dinner and perhaps the opera after, she’ll look amazing in the dress she’s wearing, and I’ll peel it from her body slowly after we return to our home.
“What do you think?” Sin asks. A thin, modelesque saleswoman stands quietly by, holding another dress for Sin to try on next. The massive private dressing room we are in is luxuriously appointed.
I appraise Sin’s form in the flow of the material, realizing she’s looked equally beautiful in each dress she’s tried on… and it has nothing to do with the clothes.
It’s simply Sin, beautiful inside and out.
Still, she’s asked for my involvement, so I rise from the couch, set my champagne glass on a table, and move over to the saleswoman. Taking the dress from her, I murmur, “A little privacy, please.”
The saleswoman gives a deferential bow before leaving and closing the door behind her. Sin doesn’t pay me any attention, her regard fixed on her reflection in the mirror.