She sat in the lobby for the interview, her palms sweating, hands trembling, and body shaking.
What was she doing confronting her brother's killer?
What was she doing trying to sell her soul to him?
Why was she even doing this?
She sighed restlessly and swallowed hard.
She was number 100 on the list of women to be interviewed.
Who interviews women to be his bride?
What a psycho.
She sighed again—a psycho she was about to deceive into marrying her.
No one was going to listen to her sob story.
She was doing this for herself, for her niece. With him, she would be safe from everyone else.
Except him, of course.
The one person she would have to protect herself from was him.
Everything about her today was fake.
From her platinum blonde hair to the heels on her feet, all borrowed items.
She'd rented them just for today.
Today, she was Bianca Martell, the daughter of a wealthy mogul.
She was actually standing in for Bianca, who had hired her to go to this interview, sabotage it, and free her from the marriage her parents were forcing her into so she could be with some Italian male model.
But Sarah had other plans.
She was going to use this identity to get what she wanted. First protection... then vengeance.
"Bianca Martell?" The name poured from the mouth of the sharp P.A.
"Come in," she said.
Sarah wiped her hands on her skirt and forced a smile as fake as her identity before walking in.
She walked into the office and was instantly pinned by his gaze.
She nearly vomited.
Yep, this was such a bad idea!
Do it for the little girl. Do it for Jess. Do it for your niece, or she'll end up in an orphanage.
She prompted herself and walked up to him with a smile. "Good day, Mr. Saint."
His black gaze scrutinized her from head to toe. She couldn't read a single thing from it.
His features were so sharp the media could never capture such a staggering amount of perfection on video or in pictures.
He was a truly beautiful man.
It was terribly frightening that such an evil person could be so revoltingly attractive.
"Are you going to stand, Miss Martell?" he asked in a tone that sounded like mockery.
She forced a smile and sat down, her nerves making her clumsy. The chair squeaked as she sat.
"So... why do you want to marry me, Miss Martell?" he asked, his tone so dark it made her shiver.
Something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
She cleared her throat. "You're handsome, rich, and good-looking... anyone would want to marry you," she said simply. "I'm just looking for someone to spend a good life with. As you know, I'm an adventurous type." She forced a giggle that sounded like she was dying.
His face was as cold as stone, making her so nervous she felt like bolting, just as the other women had earlier, crying.
The tall glass wall behind him suddenly became an interesting monument to her.
"Well, is that all?" he asked, his posture impossibly straight.
She could actually imagine his powerful frame in the suit.
He cleared his throat, and she gasped.
Oh. Lord. She. Did. Not. Just. Blatantly. Check. Him. Out!
"Sorry, I zone out sometimes," she whispered.
Her stomach growled, and her cheeks burned.
This was officially becoming the worst day ever.
She hadn't eaten since yesterday because she and her niece, Jess, could only afford a box of pizza, and she'd let her have most of it.
She ate to survive, not for the luxury of a meal, ever since she lost her family—and her brother—to this man. Things had become hard.
Her eyes started brimming with tears. Was he just going to keep staring at her, tearing her apart like an animal dissecting prey?
Was she just a specimen for him to examine with that gaze?
He was belittling her, making her uncomfortable on purpose.
"Sushi?" he asked.
"Huh?" she said.
"Would you like sushi?" he asked again.
She wanted to say no, but her stomach growled again.
"Sushi it is," he said, and the doors opened. Women in suits trailed in, carrying trays of food.
They placed it in front of her.
Her mouth watered. She hadn't had a proper meal in days. She'd only eaten sushi once in her life—when her brother Mark had made a huge sale.
The sale that cost him his life.
"Well, go on... eat," he said, observing her.
Wonderful. The devil served her breakfast, and she was expected to eat from his table.
She wanted to protest.
To say no.
But she was starving.
And so, against her will, she picked up a fork and took a bite.
It was good. So good that she couldn't control herself. She rushed through the food, forgetting who sat before her.
He sat there, watching her like a god.
She finally peered up at him, her mouth full, and his black gaze burned her soul to ashes. But she didn't care. She got careless.
She ate and ate until he asked, "What is your name?"
"Sarah," she found herself saying before she could stop herself. "Sarah Crews."
Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at the food.
His face darkened like a brewing storm. "What do you want, Sarah?"
Sheo Couldn't control her tongue. There was something in the sushi, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out:
"I want to kill you."