Chapter 9

IRENA POV

I've been avoiding him for the past 3 days.

Call me crazy, but I can't be around a man who makes me feel some type of way. I don't like the way he makes me feel, I don't like how he finds joy in my suffering.

The way my heart speeds up, thumping like thunder against my chest, the way the hairs on the back of my neck rise, the way goosebumps travel all over my body, how I forget to breath, to speak, to move.

I don't like it at all. So the best way to avoid the feeling is to keep distance from Saint.

I felt like all eyes were on me as Saint and I sat quietly at our breakfast table. It's a special occasion where couples that are on their honeymoon have an all eat breakfast buffet.

All I took was an apple, pomegranate seeds and pineapple slices. I was not in the mood for anything heavy. Saint just took two croissants with strawberries and yogurt with a cup of black coffee. Just like his soul.

This is the closest I've been to Saint. When it's time for bedtime. I sleep on the couch and he sleeps in the master bedroom. The first night he noticed how I didn't sleep in the same bed with him but he didn't bother to comment on it. Which I'm glad for.

Since it's our 3rd day here Saint and I have to attend this evening party that's happening. I tried to avoid it but it's one of the things that comes with the honeymoon specialties.

As I take a bite of my apple, a phone alerts us and my gaze lifts up to Saint's.

He sets down his cup of coffee as he reaches in his pocket, pulling out his phone. As he gazes at the screen, he steals one quick glance at me before answering, placing the device on his ear so that he can hear.

"Ne vous ai-je pas dit de ne pas appeler pendant ma lune de miel?" The way his voice lowers as he speaks his mother tongue language. It's deep and silky, the tone of his voice kissing each nerve in my body. Blessing my ears. [ Didn't I tell you not to call during my honeymoon? ]

No, stop it Irena.

I must admit Saint sounds majestic when speaks French.

I push back the unwanted thoughts of Saint, clearing my throat as my gaze falls back onto my plate whilst my ears are mainly focused on the conversation even though I have no idea what he is saying.

Silent spills between us as he listens to the other person over the phone.

I take another bite of my apple, lifting my gaze once more to catch Saint staring at me while he listens to his caller.

"She's here with me, biting into her apple." He lets out casually, purposely speaking English so that I can understand. I dart my tongue my your, licking my lips nervously before biting into the apple and placing it back onto the plate.

Saint lifts his mini coffee mug, his lips touching the rim of the cup as he sips the hot bitter beverage, staring deep into my soul, reading me like an open book full of unsolved mysteries.

Now, I've realized that there are two paths with my feelings towards Saint.

No. 1 I want to kill him.

No. 2 I want him to do unspeakable things to me.

Yes he is an asshole but his assholeness is what makes me want to know more about him and I'm scared of him, terrified but also intrigued.

Does that make me okay to even think about such?

"Call me back in an hour." He declares before hanging up, placing his phone back into his pocket.

I have the itching urge to ask him who was on the phone but managed to bite down the curious question.

"You can't ignore me forever Irena." He suddenly blurts out catching my attention. I opened my mouth to bite back at him but closed them again, slouching in my chair then picking at the pomegranate seeds.

"No matter how hard you fight it. You and I both know that you can't." He adds, like pouring gas into an outraged fire purposely wanting it to grow. Destroy and corrupt anything in its path.

That's exactly what Saint is doing.

He's pushing the right buttons. He wants me to explode. He wants to see my dark side.

He would like me to be furious and destructive.

Pushing my chair back , I rise from the seat and soothe the non existent wrinkles on my white noodle strapped dress.

I walk out of the room, leaving him all alone at the table.

Once again, I felt like all eyes were on me.

-

Wandering through the closet, my eyes search through every dress I have that I could were to this stupid honeymoon evening date or whatever it's called.

All of my dresses either reveal too much skin or don't fit the occasion.

Now, if I wear a dress that reveals too much, I know I'll hear a fit from Saint and if I don't I'll be the odd one out.

Sigh.

I pull out a black lace dress where it's backless and has noodle straps. It's thigh length...

Saint for sure will lose his shit.

A small smile curls onto my lips, turning to the mirror as I press the dress against my body, picturing how I would look in it.

Let's get ready I guess.

-

As I apply a thin layer of mascara I hear soft footsteps entering the room. Closing the tube of mascara I throw it in my makeup bag and notice Saint leaning against the door as he stares at me.

"Are you wearing that dress?" Saint inquired, walking further into the room.

I adjust my curly hair before meeting Saint's intimidating gaze through the mirror. "Is it a problem?" I asked.

Knowing his answer. I can't wait to hear him argue knowing that I'm wearing it either way.

Just the thought of pissing him off almost makes me smile.

He walked right up to me, got close enough I could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. His green eyes captured mine. I stood there silently, staring into his face.

I looked small compared to him. He is tall and muscular, I'm the opposite.

He leans dangerously close, the hairs on the nape of my neck rise as I feel his hot breath caressing my skin. "I want you to wear it. So everyone can admire you, knowing that you're all mine and I'm the one whose fucking you." He whispers before pulling back.

My cheeks turn into a deep crimson colour as well as my mouth instantly turning dry.

Without realizing it I turn around, lifting my hand as I slap him across the face, his head jerking to the side.

Fury burning into me.

"Downgrade me again, you make sure you sleep with one eye open." I snapped. His eyes gleam with dark desire, dangerously observing me.

Dark tension sparked between us, as we both glared at each other. The air between us is so brittle it could snap, if not then I would.

Call me crazy, but the way Saint is looking at me, It was like I felt his gaze as a touch. What's scary is that I almost allowed myself to get lost in them.

But what's even more terrifying is that I liked what I did. He liked what I did, scratch that loved.

This is weird, I'm starting to freak out.

I clear my throat then quickly brush past Saint making my way out of the room but actually I'm distancing myself from him. For my sake.

"I want you to wear it. So everyone can admire you, knowing that you're all mine and I'm the one whose fucking you."

Heat licks my bones at the thought of Saint inside of me.

I don't want to admit it, but I liked the way he casually spoke down on me.

God, what is happening to me?

Is this a way of discovering hidden kinks about myself, it's quite disturbing but exhilarating.

I pause in my tracks when the sudden realization hits me.

All my life I was taught to be someone who is not me. Now that I've spent a few days with Saint I noticed how he's trying to pull out the real me. The destructive part of me.

And the more I fight him, the more I'm slowly allowing him to have the upper advantage.

He wants the fight and I'm giving it to him without knowing.

It's time for things to change. I have to have the upper hand or he will eat me alive and spit me out.