The Saintess Chose The Wrong Man

Chapter 6

Lombard found himself standing in front of a woman who looked like sunlight had taken human form. Natural beauty radiated from her face, yet somehow it still outshone half the women he’d seen, including Mireya. Even in a short gown, clutching a simple purse, with barely any jewelry or makeup, she looked perfect—the kind of woman a man would dream of having as a wife.

“What are you talking about?” she whispered to Finn. “You can’t do that. Don’t be a naughty boy.”

“Please… just for tonight,” Finn begged desperately.

Before he could say anything more, a group of boys stopped by their table.

“Your parents aren’t here again today? Are you even sure you have parents?” one sneered, clearly hunting for a reaction.

“You’re wrong,” Finn said, voice shaking. “These are my parents. Meet Lombard and Abigail. They’re… like LA—the city,” he added, trying a joke. It fell flat immediately.

“I bet you rented them,” another boy sneered. “No way your parents would be here.”

“Watch your tongue, kids,” Lombard intervened, voice sharp. He had never cared about high schoolers before, and this only made him more dangerous. “You must be the riffraff my son warned me about.”

“What? Riff… what?” one of the boys snapped, eyes flashing at Finn.

“I’ve been told a lot of fascinating things about you,” Lombard said, voice calm but sharp. “And I wonder if you all know that bullies now have a special kind of jail. I’ve got a couple of numbers on my phone. They can bring in the handcuffs. All I have to do is ring.”

The boys went still. Figures. No one wants a permanent mark on their record—even if it’s just for college. They quickly disappeared as they came.

“We welcome everyone to this special event,” the MC's voice rang out from the front of the stage. “It’s about to start. And we call on guidance and parents to come in if they haven’t. A few really important people are in our midst, and we’ll be calling them soon…”

Abigail looked at Lombard shyly—shy. She’d never been shy in her life. “Hi… I’m Abigail,” she whispered as she lowered herself into the chair Lombard pulled out for her.

“I’m Lombard,” he said, sliding in beside her.

“I’m so sorry,” Finn mumbled, “I have to check things with the homeroom teacher now.” He didn’t want to tell Lombard thanks just yet, but there was gratitude in his eyes. Maybe Lombard wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Um…” Abigail started. “You… got roped into a blind date too by Elliot? His wife sent me here.”

Lombard nodded. Not a blind date for him, but he nodded anyway.

“I’m friends with his wife. You?”

“Obviously friends with Ell,” Lombard said smoothly.

“Oh… that’s… spectacular,” Abigail murmured.

Oh shit. With everything she's been told about Lombard, his connections, his money, playboy skills; She’d been expecting some scary, sullen guy. But Lombard just looked… handsome. Calm. Effortlessly in control. And she was blushing. Again.

“I believe the woman of the century is right here in our midst,” the MC announced, cutting cleanly through the low chatter in the hall. “Miss Abigail, you are most welcome tonight. And for those who don’t know who Miss Abigail is—let me put it this way.”

He smiled, clearly enjoying himself.

“You know those women who dress simply, look understated, yet somehow manage to drive every man insane—with both their wealth and their beauty?” He gestured lightly toward her. “That’s her. If I were still in my thirties, God knows I would have exhausted every flirting skill I possess.”

Soft laughter rippled through the crowd.

Abigail blushed. She had never liked praise—especially the public kind—but tonight, she found herself enduring it. Maybe even enjoying it. Especially when she glanced at Lombard… and caught the unmistakable look of approval on his face.

“Too much hype,” she whispered, pretending indifference.

“No,” Lombard murmured back. “I don’t think so at all. I think you’re a remarkable woman. Would you mind letting me take a shot too, like the others?”

She froze.

Was that… flirting?

Abigail had no way of knowing for sure. But the fact that he—a man drowning in money, power, and connections—had just complimented her so plainly made her heart stumble. God. At this rate, she was going to blush herself to death before the night ended.

“Oh my days—someone from the Belmont family!” the MC exclaimed again, voice ringing through the hall. “Men, I’ve heard rumors that he might be a psychopath—but listen, if being a psychopath means being a man like Cassian, then I’ll gladly volunteer!”

Soft chuckles rippled through the room.

“He’s insanely successful,” Abigail murmured to Lombard, leaning in slightly, assuming he might not recognize the name. “But he’s not my thing. He’s tried reaching out to me more times than I can count. I just… don’t feel it.”

Lombard smiled at her. Polite but clearly uninterested.

Damn, Abigail thought. Did I say something wrong already? The last thing she wanted was to irritate him—especially not this early.

Across the room, Cassian swirled his drink slowly, his gaze fixed on something that refused to sit right with him.

At first, it had been Abigail that caught his attention. She was hard to miss. But now—now it was the man seated beside her.

The angle. The posture. The face.

Too familiar.

Cassian narrowed his eyes, irritation crawling up his spine. I’ve definitely seen that man before. Or maybe he’d had one drink too many.

He slid his phone across the table to the friend beside him. “Hey,” he said casually, tapping the screen. “Check this picture. Doesn’t he look like the guy sitting over there?”

His friend glanced from the photo to Lombard. Then back again.

“…Same man,” he said slowly. “Just dressed like money this time. You know him?”