Page 120 of Taint My Soul

The star of the show stands in the middle of the dance room with his bride, hands placed around the young man’s waist. Sinclair has a pleased smile on his face.

My eyes search for the room for any familiar faces. I spot Tiff in the crowd speaking with two men at her side.

“I need to speak with Prince Kane. Is there anything you need?”

“No. Go do what you know how to do best.” I give him a smile. He nods even though what I want is a kiss. I always want to kiss him. But we are in public, and we can’t kiss. Saint strolls away while I remain where I’m standing until a server approaches me, offering a glass of champagne.

I have never really thought my sexuality was a big deal. I had to focus on my uncle going off on me most of the time or getting locked away for days at the cabin, and all the helplessness that came with it.

I hate that I cannot hold his hand in public, or even dance with him like all the couples here. I mean, Syn and his husband are dancing in here. But I’m not rushing through things with Saint. He’s given me the space to trust him, and I’ll do the same for him. He deserves it.

As I sip my drink, my gaze remains on him. He’s the only man I have my eyes on.

My darling. My man. All mine.

I’ll try to keep the distance between us just until the night is over. But I’m drawn closer to him, like metal to a magnet, like a moth to a flame. One minute he’s drinking with his brother. The big, taller, terrifying one, Virgil. Next, he’s talking with Prince Kane, then another woman I’ve never met.

Jealousy curls around my throat like chains, and I clench my fists as I watch them walk around the room and speak to each other. He never told me about this person. Maybe I wasn’t worth telling it to. What fucking drives me crazy is when she leans in and kisses him on his cheek.

I frown and tighten my hand around the glass, so hard it almost cracks under my weight.

I turn on my heels and bump into someone, and he spills his drink on my shirt. “Watch where you’re going. Are you fucking blind?!” he seethes, shoves me, and walks away.

“I’m sorry.” I apologize and look down at my stained shirt.

The room collectively gasps around me, and I turn on my heel. Saint wears a scowl on his face as he drags the man by the hair and shoves him down at my feet. “Apologize.” He growls.

The man’s trembling gaze flickers up to me as an apology stutters out of him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Saint shakes his head. He doesn’t approve. He squats down to his eye level and grabs the man’s neck. “Try again, asshole.”

He shouldn’t do any of this. He’s drawing attention to both of us.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Please, forgive me.” The man begs pathetically.

“Saint, just let him go.”

“He hasn’t accepted your apology.” Saint grinds his teeth at him.

“It’s okay. I accept.” I reiterate. Saint shoves the man down and regains his footing. He turns around, shocked that everybody’s staring at us, including the woman she’d been speaking with.

I inhale sharply and turn on my heel, bolting out of the room. I need to clean myself up.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

SAINT

The server standing in front of the shelves lined with bottles of vintage wine, overseen by a dark wood counter, pours me and Virgil a drink. Virgil raises the glass and smiles at the young man. It hasn’t been too long since we arrived at the wedding reception venue of Syn King and his groom. I don’t expect Father to show his face here, and he does not disappoint. Men in tailored suits cluster in a quiet assemblage, shoulders squared, movements efficient without haste. Women move through the space wrapped in satin, velvet, and diamonds that catch the chandelier light like blades.

A live orchestra plays something classical and elegant.

In the crowd, Syn stands in a circle of influential men, a glass of wine in hand, laughing and chatting with the guests. Barely minutes ago, he stood in the center of the room with his husband. And I hate that I’m still too fucking terrified to dance with the man I’m in love with. I hate that I’m not strong enough to fight for us. Hell, I have never fought for anything for myself my whole life.

It’s even worse that my father is setting me up with another woman after his hopes for an alliance with the Okoro family got crushed.

“You should go meet with your bride.” Virgil tilts his glass toward the woman standing in the midst of two men in a light blue dress that really matches her skin.

“I think you should marry her.”