𝐒𝐲𝐧 ┃𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

79. 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝐷𝑜 𝐼𝑡

Queen

I threw my suitcase onto the bed and began organizing my clothes and shoes in the closet. I brought enough clothes for a couple of weeks, not sure how long Syn and I would stay here.

I picked up a photo of Saint and me at a carnival a few months ago. Me kissing his chubby cheeks while a huge toothless grin was on his face. I missed him already and we had only left a few hours ago. I didn't know how long I could go without seeing him, but I knew he was in more than safe and capable hands. Besides, I figured if I really couldn't stay away any longer, I could visit.

I heard a knock at the door and I tore my eyes away from the picture to see Paris peeking his head into the door. "I didn't say come in—"

"Come have dinner."

"I'm not hungry," I replied. "And it's almost midnight- that's not healthy. I need to watch my figure."

"Well, I have orders to make sure you eat something, so I couldn't care less about your figure. See you in the kitchen in ten minutes."

With that, he closed the door and I rolled my eyes. Most people who knew who I was were usually more respectful. Paris knew, he just didn't give a shit. It was charming but times like this when he was giving me orders when all I wanted to do was sleep- I wish he were a little more afraid. If not of me, then of Syn.

I quickly put away the rest of my things and changed out of my clothes, slipping into a grey tank top and one of Syn's navy blue sweats. I tied my hair into a ponytail and sighed before opening the door and peeking at the clock on the bedside behind me.

Seven minutes. A part of me wanted to stay behind as an act of defiance and see what he would say, but I was too lazy for that. And I lied about being hungry. I was starving and my body was still aching from earlier.

I smiled, stretching my arms as I walked down the stairs, listening to the faint sound of the television as I approached. When the living room came into view, I noticed Paris sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV and I frowned.

"He still isn't back?" I asked.

"Who?" He glanced at me before looking at the TV.

"Who do you think?" I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, a scowl on my face at the sight of no food.

"Oh, him. No."

I grabbed a water bottle from the side of the refrigerator and closed it. I leaned against the counter, opened the bottle, and took a sip of the cool water. "Do you know where he went?" I asked.

"He's not with another woman, sweetheart...I don't think. Who knows though? Men." He waved his hand in the air in dismissal.

"I didn't say anything about another woman?" I shook my head. "Why would you even— is he?"

He laughed out loud. "I just said he wasn't."

"Then why even assume that's what I was referring to?"

"Because I've worked for enough rich idiots to know what their wives wonder when they're out at all hours of the night...and a majority of the time their suspicions are correct." He looked over his shoulder at me and I frowned. "Mr. SinClaire is a different case, though. He watches you sleep—"