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—"

"What—"

"And here he is, texting me every thirty seconds to make sure you've eaten something..." He scrunched his dark brows staring down at his phone before standing up. "...which you still haven't done. Please eat something so I can tell him you've done it."

"I don't see why you can't just tell him I already ate."

He walked toward the kitchen area, tucking his cell into his pocket. "I don't like lying, sweetheart."

"Even if it's a necessary lie?" I raised a brow.

"No such thing." He sat down on a stool facing me and tapped his fingers along the counter. He placed his chin into his other hand, raising a brow and waiting for me to do something and I rolled my eyes.

"There's nothing to eat."

"The refrigerator is full, the groceries were restocked this morning."

"Okay, correction," I said. "Nothing made. Which at this time of night equates to nothing to eat."

He sighed, standing from his seat and walking past me. "Sit down." I took his place on the stool and looked at him as he placed his palms against the counter. "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything."

"So a sandwich will suffice?"

"What type of sandwich?" I quipped.

"PB & J?"

"No."

"Ham?"

"Ehh," I cringed. "No."

"Turkey."

"Nope."

"Tuna?"

"Ooh that sounds tasty," I said.

He smiled, the tension in his shoulders dropping. "Perfect—"

"But I'm not really craving it right now."

His smile dropped and he threw his hands up. "How does he deal?" He muttered to himself and I held back a laugh at his frustration. "What type of sandwich then?"

I tilted my head in thought before putting a finger up. "I'll have a sandwich tomorrow instead."

He looked at me deadpanned and I couldn't hold back any more. I burst out into laughter and he shook his head at me. "You're annoying."

"Thank you."

"You know what I could go for?" He asked.

"What?"

"A burger."

I raised my brows and smiled. "I know a place."

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We settled into the shiny red booth of the diner and I grinned, excitement bubbling in my stomach at the familiar place. It looked the same. If I looked to my left I'd see the exact booth I was sitting in when I saw Syn for the first time after he lost his memories. And if I looked out of the window to beside the building, I'd see the alley he threatened to fuck me in thirty minutes later.

"I can feel the excitement radiating off of you. Are you that hungry?" He asked, staring into the menu.

"I- don't do that." He grinned and I rolled my eyes. "I haven't been here in a long time. This place holds a lot of memories. I'm just really happy right now."

"Okay, I'm glad you're happy here," he said, flipping the laminated pages of the menu. "However, if you take as long here to decide what you want to eat as you did at the cabin, I will gladly leave you and go to the burger place next door."

"I think if you did that you'd get fired."

"Hey, money isn't worth it if it costs you your sanity." He set the menu down and stretched his arm over the booth. "I happen to need a clear head, and you're kind of crazy."

"I'm not crazy," I sound, looking around the diner before glancing at him. "I'm not picky either. I may not know what I want at times, but I sure as hell know what I don't want."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"You'll be quite a force to be reckoned with when you can figure out both."

"Have you?" I asked.

"Figured out both?" He questioned, toying with a black band on his pointer finger. I nodded and he shrugged a shoulder. "Well, of course. You don't do what I do for a living without knowing exactly what you do and don't want out of people."

"I was talking about food, but okay...that's nice too." I picked up my menu and he chuckled.

"I figured you were trying to be metaphorical."

"Me? Never," I said. "Don't read too deeply into the things I say. I'm not that smart."

"Really?" He asked.

"Hi, can I get y'all started on something?" A middle-aged woman I hadn't seen before spoke with a notepad in her hand. I smiled up at her and when our eyes met, recognition flashed in hers. "My goodness, your highness..." She bowed her head and glanced at Paris who seemed to be amused by the interaction. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

"Don't worry about it."

She smiled at me and nodded quickly. "What can I get for you?" We both told her our orders and she scribbled them, giving us a quick bow before scurrying off.

I looked at Paris to find his eyes on me and I raised a brow. "So," he started, "you're indecisive, can't cook, are insufferable— and aren't very smart by your own admission. Tell me again what he sees in you?" He smiled, crossing his arms.

"Besides the obvious?" I dramatically circled my arm around myself and he rolled his eyes. "I don't know." I shrugged. "What does anyone see in anybody? Only he knows the answer to that question."

"I guess you're right." He sighed. "Now I'll just have to wonder forever."

"Or you could ask him."

"I would never do that. Knowing how crazy he is when it comes to you...I'd rather not."

My chest warmed at his words and I looked at my phone in my lap. Still, no missed calls or texts from him. I sent him a text letting him know we were going to eat, but still nothing. "Speaking of the devil though, has he texted you or anything?"

He pulled out his phone and shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah."

"What? When?"

"A few minutes ago," he said. "Why?"

I frowned. "He hasn't text me."

"Aww." He scrunched his brows, giving me a sympathetic look. "I feel so special."

"You're so annoying."

"The feeling is mutual, trust me." A jingle from the diner door made me glance beyond Paris' shoulder expectantly and when an elderly man walked in, my shoulders slumped. "I don't understand you women sometimes."

"What?"

"You clearly want him here," he said. "You've been looking at the entrance to the diner and peeking at your phone every few seconds. Just text him and tell him you want him to come."

I sighed, toying with the paint peeling on the old table. "No, he's probably busy."

"Probably." He shrugged. "But you want him here. If he's too busy, he will say no. Just text him."

I felt my mind swaying a bit in his favor, but the fact that Syn hadn't responded to my last text gave me an answer I didn't feel like getting told directly. "It's okay." I sat up straight and blew out a breath. "I'll just see him when he gets back—"

"Give me your phone." He held out his hand.

"What? No." I laughed, quickly shaking my head.

"Give it." I sighed, placing my cell phone into his hand and he rolled his eyes and passed it right back to me. "Open it for fuck's sake."

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