Good Girl, Bad Intentions

CHAPTER 4

Saint's POV

The underground smelled of liquor, smoke and sex. Gold chandeliers hung above men who sold their souls long ago. My kind of place.

I'd only come to meet one of the Russian suppliers who'd just signed an agreement with me. The deal was smooth and quick. Business done, I was ready to leave until I saw her.

At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. That couldn't be her. She shouldn't be here.

But when she turned, bent and swayed her ass, the light caught her face. Mia.

The name alone burned like whiskey down my throat. She didn't belong to a place like this. She was too clean, too innocent for this pit. And there she was, her hair messy around her shoulders, a drink in hand.

My jaw clenched and I walked through the crowd without thinking, ignoring the murmurs of the men who recognized me. She didn't even notice until I grabbed her waist.

The moment she uttered, “Because of men.” I lost it right there. It was confirmed. Connor had done something terrible.

Mia's eyes were too glassy for comfort as she glared at me. “But still, I'm not drunk.”

Her denial was weak and slurred.

Okay, we'll see about that.

I let her go at once and muttered. “Then walk straight.”

The instant she took a step, she stumbled and nearly fell–until my hand shot out and grabbed her again.

I cursed under my breath. “Who brought you here?”

“None of your business,” she fired, but her eyes were unfocused. She tried to yank away the second time. “Let go of me, Saint.”

“Not a chance.”

I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care what I'd just sealed. The thought of her wandering around this place–drunk and vulnerable, made my blood run cold.

I didn't like her defiance, but at least helping my brother's little sweetheart wasn't a bad idea, yes?

She kept fighting me but her strength was fading fast. When she tried to pull free again, I caught her wrist instead.

“Enough of this madness,” I growled, hauling her toward the exit. I didn't care about whoever had brought her here.

She struggled, muttering curses under her breath, but by the time we reached my car, she was more leaning on me than resisting.

“Get in,” I ordered.

“No. You're trying to kidnap me again. I'll scream.”

I opened the door anyway, staring her down. She had no clue this was one of my places and I owned it. She could scream for eternity, but that would be her loss.

“Mia,” I said, low and warning.

She hesitated then tried to step back. That was all it took. I caught her wrist again, guiding her into the passenger seat. The sudden closeness hit like a jolt. Her breath was warm against my jaw, the brush of her thigh against mine.

For a second, everything drifted.

Her lips were inches away from mine. Soft, pink, and tempting.

My throat tightened. I forced myself to look away, slamming the door harder than necessary.

Inside the car, she leaned her head back, eyes half-closed, whispering something I couldn't catch. Her voice trembled, fragile.

Damn it.

I shouldn't care. She wasn't mine. She was never mine.

I gripped the wheel and drove. “Where do you live?”

She mumbled incoherently. “Mmm…left. I think?”

I sighed. “You're useless like this.”

She laughed drunkenly, filling the space between us. It wasn't the innocent laugh I remembered. It was looser, almost fake. Like she was grieving inwardly.

Believe me, the next time I set my eyes on Connor, I'll be sending him to his grave.

When I realized she wasn't in any state to give directions, I changed course, heading for one of my private hotels.

By the time I parked, she was half-asleep, her cheek resting against the window. I went around, opened the door and helped her out.

She blinked up at me, dazed. “Are you always this bossy?”

“Always,” I said flatly.

Inside, the staff straightened immediately when they saw me. A few recognized her, curious glances flickering between us, but no one dared speak. I got the key, walked her up to the elevator, and opened the suite door.

Once we were in, she turned. “You didn't have to bring me here.”

“You clearly don't know where you live.” I bit out, shutting the door behind.

“At least I was fine.”

“Hmm.” I hummed, throwing off my jacket.

She swayed, catching herself on the wall. I caught her before she fell. My hand brushed her waist. She froze, then looked up at me–her eyes wide, pupils dilated.

“Saint,” she whispered, like saying my name cost her breath.

“Go sit down.”

Instead, she reached up, fingertips brushing my jaw. It was playful, soft, and teasing. And it hit harder than any bullet I had ever taken.

“Don't you dare,” I countered, catching her wrist.

She winced, her eyes glistening. The sound she made was small and breathless.

I let her go. “Stop testing me.”

She blinked, still tipsy.

Like a mistake, my gaze dropped to the chain glinting faintly at her neck.

It was Connor's. He'd gifted her during one of their anniversaries.

I clenched my jaw. That little silver had no business still resting against her skin.

“Why are you still wearing that?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

She blinked, confused. Her fingers went to the pendant as if she'd only just realized it was there. “I-I don't know,” she murmured.

The answer only made the anger worse. I wasn't supposed to feel anything. But damn it, seeing that thing against her neck felt marvelously wrong.

“Take it off,” The order slipped out of me before I could stop it.

“Why?”

“It's in the past.” I bit out, gritting. “The past doesn't follow us around, Mia.”

She hesitated. Slowly, her trembling fingers unclasped it. The chain slid down her collarbone and into her palm. She looked up at me like she wasn't sure why she was obeying. But she did anyway.

“Good girl,” I muttered beneath my breath.

Her breath hitched. Maybe she heard me. Maybe she didn't.

I shouldn't have looked at her the way I did then. But I did. Her lips were parted slightly, like they'd been kissed too many times–or not enough. My gaze drifted lower, down the curve of her throat, to the spot where that damn necklace had been.

She shifted under my stare. “You're staring, Mr Saint.”

I smirked, seeing what she did there.

“I know.” I said simply.

She took a step closer, unsteady. “Why do you look angry?”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

Because you shouldn't be here. Because I shouldn't be this close.

But I didn't say that.

Instead, I knowingly inched toward her. Just enough to make her back hit the wall behind her. Her eyes widened, breath catching between us.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. I followed the motion with my eyes like a fool. I wanted to hate her for it, but all I felt was the slow, steady pull in my gut. I reached up, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. My knuckles grazed her cheek, light enough to make her shiver.

I caught her chin gently between my fingers, forcing her to look at me. “Go to bed,” I said, though my voice came out with nothing like an order.

“I don't want to,”

“Don't test me again, Mia.” I warned. “You don't know what you're playing with.”

She hummed, eyes hazy, her lips curving into a faint, almost taunting smile. “Then show me.”

That shouldn't have set something off in me. But shit, it did. Every line between right and wrong blurred.

“Mia…”

Her eyes fluttered close, her breath brushing against my throat. I could hear the faint thud of her pulse, the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

I leaned closer until my lips hovered just a breath away from hers. I could taste the whiskey on her breath. She didn't move away. Rather, leaned in. Foolish and reckless.

“Do you even know what you're asking for?”

Her lashes lifted instantly, eyes meeting mine once more. “You're the one who's staring,”

That was the moment I realized this girl, this grown woman in front of me, wasn't the same Mia I thought I knew.

“Do you still think I'm a kid?”

I took a long, slow breath. But then my gaze betrayed me again, drifting down her frame.

“No,” I admitted quietly. “You're not.”

“Then stop treating me like one.”

My restraint, my reason, or whatever was left of it snapped then. I lingered closer until our bodies almost touched.

“Careful,” I murmured. “You don't know what kind of man you're provoking.”

Her reply was almost inaudible. “Maybe I do.”

My hand found her jaw again, thumb brushing against the corner of her mouth, just close enough to feel the heat of her breath. Her lips parted, but I didn't kiss her. Instead, I let my voice drop.

“Tell me,” I started, tauntingly. “Do you even know what you want?”

Her breath hitched. “You,” she whispered.

For a moment, I lost count.

I stepped back, barely enough to look at her properly. Everything about Mia Salvatore screamed trouble and yet she was waiting for me to make the next move.

I didn't.

“You have no idea what you're asking for, Mia.” I growled. Then softer, deadlier:

“But one day, when you're sober, you'll remember this moment. And you'll know exactly what I was about to do.”

And with that, I turned away.