His Halo is a Lie

When my eyes fall open, it is hard to make out where I am. The silence stretches on endlessly, and for a few seconds, I just lay on the huge, luxurious bed, letting the memories from last night flood me.

Saint Lachlan. 

"Shit! The hospital!" I sit up with a jolt, feeling dizzy as blood rushes into my head. I give myself one more second before scampering out of bed, heading out through the doors.

But I halt the moment I get outside. The hallway is so long and the penthouse so huge that I don't know where to turn to get myself into the living room, or the kitchen.

Looking towards my left and right, I decide to go right, fulfilling a part of me that thinks everything has gone left since the night Saint stumbled into my life. 

My feet take me down the hallway, bathed in the morning light coming in through the tall windows. I see a door slightly open on the left. My curiosity gets the better of me as I take a peek.

It looks like a study, with an imposing desk that looks like mahogany. A thick book lay open on it, with a leather chair on the other side. I can see another folder, tightly bound, as if telling everyone to back off. A huge piano sits in the middle of the space.

It looks out of place.

Saint plays the piano? 

The instrument looks too fragile, too vulnerable for someone as hard and domineering as Saint Lachlan. While my thoughts fester on that, I hear someone stop behind me. 

A woman speaks next, her voice soft and low. "You must be the girl." 

I angle my head at her. She is in a flowing black dress that looks striking on her skin, with black heels and blood-red lips. I feel so odd standing in front of her in my mismatched and old pajamas, while she screams luxury. 

She brings her slender fingers to her chin. "I have to admit, I was wondering what kind of stray Saint would bring home next."

And then, I ask the most foolish question. "Who are you?"

A chuckle escapes her lips, clinging to the air in such cruelty that it makes me recoil. "I should be asking the questions, honey. But you seem to have forgotten who you are exactly after spending one night here. So, I'll oblige you."

"I'm Gianna, his fiancée. Well, ex-fiancee, but we are coming around to that soon. You shouldn't let it bother you. And you must be...."

I feel it in my chest, a sudden pinch. But I shake my head subtly, as if dispelling the thought. There is nothing to feel heartbroken about. 

"You don't look like someone who has moved on with their lives, seeing as you are his ex," I blurt out, hating that demeaning look in her eyes.

Gianna doesn't flinch as she takes a step closer, her perfume wafting towards me. Jasmine. 

"Little technicalities, honey. You see, Saint and I are not your regular engaged couple. Our destiny has been written long before we were born. Two empires that will be joined as one."  And then, she gives me a once-over. "I'm certain someone of your standing cannot understand that."

"But he ended it, didn't he?" I refuse to back down, even though deep down, I know I have no reason to do this.

"Men like Saint don't end things, unless..."  Gianna allows the rest of her words to hang in the air, unsaid, before she continues. "He pauses them until he's done playing. And once he's done with you, which I know will be really soon, seeing how boring you are, he will be right back in my arms, where he belongs."

She walks past me into Saint's study, dropping into the leather seat like it is hers. The expression on my face causes her to laugh.

"Don't tell me you think he rescued you. That was the story he gave you to bring you here, right?" She shakes her head. "It's adorable how naïve you are, darling, but you should know that Saint is dangerous. You're not the first girl he has tried to save, and you won't be the last that he ruins. Mark my words."

My throat goes dry, but I don't give anything away. "If he is so dangerous, why do you want him back?"

I see that my words hit a nerve as her lips twitch. "I am the only one who understands Saint. And he is mine. There is nothing wrong with wanting what's mine. And do you know why I am sure he will always come back to me? It's because Saint doesn't like girls with dark pasts, and I can see that you do from a mile away. You don't know the rules of this game, and it will bore him out."

I open my mouth to speak, but she holds her hand up, cutting me off. 

"You can ask him about Venice. Ask him what happened to the last girl he tried to rescue, just like you. Then, you'll understand."  

Before I can say something, I hear the elevator ding, and Gianna hears it too, as her whole body freezes. Saint appears beside me at the doorway, but his eyes narrow in on her. 

"Gianna," he starts, his voice cold and his shoulders stiff. "Get out." 

"You don't have to be so harsh about it," she drawls, getting out of the seat and edging towards him slowly. "You brought a girl home. How sweet."

And then, she waltzes past him, leaning in closely towards me as her lips brush my ear. "I warned you, honey. And I don't repeat myself. Leave before I make you."

I hear her heels clack on the floor until it is only a faint echo. 

"Saint, what happened in Venice?"

His eyes regard me, the coldness slowly dissipating, but his expression unreadable. 

He looks at me, like the truth might destroy me.