Code Name Heist (Jameson Force Security 3)

I raise an eyebrow as I take in the civility of the setting. Saint dressed in a custom-made suit, sitting in a Victorian-styled chair with one leg crossed elegantly over the other. His hair perfectly styled, freshly shaven, and looking like a million bucks.

Like he’s waiting to have tea with royalty.

I crinkle my nose at what I’d worn today. A pair of torn jeans, a tank top, and trainers. I hadn’t had any desire to go all out trying to impress poor Robbie.

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I walk toward Saint, who motions for me to take the seat catty-corner to him. In complete juxtaposition to his suave facade, I pull my legs up onto the chair, sitting cross-legged, leaning to the left by resting my elbow on the armrest.

Glancing at the tea service, then around the posh hotel, I say. “This is all very… formal.”

“You know I like nice things,” he says dismissively, his eyes narrowing. “So do you, so don’t act put out. Would you like some tea? It’s not fish and chips and a pint with that oaf you were with, but still…”

“You have no right to be mad I was out on a date,” I snap.

“Did you fuck him?” he growls, moving to the edge of his chair as if he’s crowding me.

There’s something primal in his tone, something so possessive that a shiver shoots up my spine. I force myself not to enjoy it. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is,” he says quietly, leaning even further into my space. “Because if you did—or fucked anyone for that matter—I’m out of here.”

I can’t help it. I laugh, tipping my head back and letting it out before dipping my chin and sobering. “That’s rich, Saint. I betray you. You betray me. Now you’re worried about me fucking some guy, which would not be a betrayal, by the way, because we aren’t together.”

“I say we are,” he replies smoothly, now casually leaning back in his chair, crossing one leg over another again. He puts his elbow on the armrest, touching his fingertips to his chin as he appraises me. “I’ve been waiting for you to get over your snit so we could move past all this.”

“My snit,” I practically screech. “You had me drugged and kidnapped. You made plans without me. You went all caveman and treated me like someone who was not at all capable in helping you out. You—”

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly I barely hear him. But it’s enough to stop my tirade. “I’m sorry, and I was wrong to do that.”

I blink, not sure what to say now. There’s no doubting the sincerity of his words. I can hear it clear as day. See it on his face. He’s not bullshitting me.

“I was so worried about your safety, Sin, that I took matters into my own hands and figured I’d worry about the consequences later. I can only say I wasn’t thinking straight. That my feelings for you were so strong I couldn’t see a better way past my worries. Nothing mattered to me but making sure you walked away alive. Didn’t matter if I did. Didn’t matter if I got caught. Didn’t matter if everything went to shit, as long as you walked away alive. I made those plans figuring there was a damn good chance Mercier was going to kill me. I was okay with that, as long as you got to live. Do I regret how that made you feel? Am I sorry for lessening you as a woman and as my partner? Yes to it all. I regret it. But as I’m sitting here right now, looking at you alive, healthy, and beautiful even in your fury, I still have to think I made the right decision.”

I wait for a flash of anger to hit me because while it was a beautiful apology, it had ended with him stating he doesn’t think he did anything wrong… which kind of negates the entire thing. I sigh.

“What I’m saying,” he continues, “is I’m sorry for doing that to you, but I cannot help being grateful I got the outcome I wanted.”

God, he’s so frustrating, but damn if I’m not bloody well charmed by him.

With a huff, I lean my head against the high back of the chair. “How do we even go about trusting each other again?”

“I do trust you, Sin,” he says, managing to surprise me. “Despite everything, I trust you with my life and my heart.”

Heart?

He wants me to care for his heart?

“It was important to you that I forgive you for what you did to me,” he says.

I nod. That’s true.

“I’m asking for the same thing. Let’s start with forgiveness. I’ve said I’m sorry. I went about it the wrong way. I’m asking you to let that go and forgive me. Can you at least do that?”