I shake my head, because no, I don’t know.
“I don’t miss it all that much these days. I like the college. I like the stunning place it’s set. I like being with Vani. Scratch that, Ilovebeing with Vani. Zane is our brother now, too. The whole world is ours to take when we know what we want. We don’t need Paris, and we don’t need him.”
I smile, but it’s forced. Maybe he doesn’t understand, but this city will always have my heart. However, for Vani, I will make any sacrifice, and she must be kept safe, so leave, we must. I won’t be coming back until I know it’s secure.
The woman in question appears in the doorway, wearing her cashmere loungewear.
I offer her a reluctant smile. “I’m so sorry, Vani. I fucked up.”
She surprises me by rushing to me and hugging me tight. “Saint, you gave me the best gift ever.”
“But… you’ve been assaulted. Beaten. This has been hell.”
“Well, either the shock of it all is protecting me, or I have way more of my dad in me than I thought, because truly, I’m okay. You can’t say it hasn’t been a trip to remember.”
Lex and I stare at her for a long beat, then the three of us crack up. I laugh so hard, tears roll down my cheeks. Zane arrives at the foot of the stairs with his bags and looks at us all perplexed, which just sets us off again.
Finally, our laughter dies down, and we sit in the kitchen at the large breakfast bar, all nursing a drink of one sort or another. We sit like that until my father’s name lights up my phone. It’s a message telling me the car is outside.
CHAPTER 14
Vani
We drivethrough the city again, and I take one last, wistful look at the lights. I didn’t lie to Zane when I said I was okay. I am. It’s weird, and maybe it’s just repression and later I’ll break down, but I took my power back with that fucker, and he died in agony. I feel as if I scored one tiny victory for womankind.
Once we get to the airstrip, I climb on board the luxurious jet. I drink it all in, realizing just how wealthy and powerful the twins’ father is. Sadly, not enough, though, to keep them safe in their own city.
I’m nervous right up to the point the plane races down the runway and the wheels lift off. The minute we’re in the air, I let out a breath and relax back into the sumptuous seat.
Saint is sitting beside me, and once we’re airborne, he sends a message to the owners of the rental, apologizing for leaving early and thanking them for such an amazing stay.
Then we sit back and watch the twinkling lights of mainland France slowly give way to the inky darkness of the ocean.
Hours later,back at the mansion, a heavy, bone-weary tiredness has crept over me, smothering me with inertia.
The twins are all over me, clucking around me like mother hens, and in the end, Zane tells them to go to bed and sleep it off. They mumble and moan but do as he says.
I’m glad for the peace. I take a long bath and head to bed, only to find that Saint is sprawled right across it, leaving no room for anyone else, even Lex is squashed up at one end.
We normally all share, but we do have a spare bed.
When I hit the spare room, I find Zane sitting up reading. He puts the book down and signs.Are you really okay?
“I’m really okay,” I reassure him.
I won’t pretend like I haven’t replayed what happened to me in my head a hundred times, and though the memory repulses me, and of course I wish it had never happened, it hasn’t left a scar. I’ve been through a lot of trauma in my life. Maybe I’ve become desensitized to it, but I prefer to think that I’m just choosing not to give that revolting asshole any more power.
I climb into bed next to Zane and turn on my side, waiting for that heavenly moment his big arms come around me, and he spoons me.
Like this, in Zane’s arms, I always feel safe.
We basically sleptthrough Christmas Eve, all too exhausted, adrenaline drained and jetlagged to function, but by Christmas Day, we’re feeling better. My head is fine. I don’t even have a mild headache now, so I don’t think I need to be checked out. Yetanother way I take after my father. The club joked that he had an iron skull because my dad is really hard to knock out. Maybe I’m the same way.
Because it’s Christmas, that means food, and Saint is cooking up a storm in the kitchen while the rest of us get ready and laze about. It won’t be a traditional dinner, as we didn’t have all the items needed for that, but he can make a five-star meal out of an onion and some water, so I’m not worried.
We’d decided when we first left for Paris that we’d open presents back here, once we got home, which would have been a couple of days after Christmas if we hadn’t been attacked, but we can do it on the day now.
I got up early but sneaked off to the bathroom for a while. Now I head downstairs, wrapped in a slinky, champagne colored silk robe. I walk up to Saint, who is standing at the stove, and slide my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to the strong muscles of his back. He glances at me distractedly.
