Page 2 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“Funny, but no.” I sneered and pulled out my phone to take some pictures. “I would have brought a better camera.”

“Oh, my God.” Brad pulled the phone from my hand. “Could you at least act like you’re from around here?”

“I am from around here.” I smirked. “I’m just not from aroundhere, here.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

“This ceiling alone is probably worth more than a thousand times my current bank balance.”

“Try a million times more.” Brad winked and pressed the elevator button.

I glanced around in awe. “You know, staring through the window really doesn’t do this place justice.” I turned when the elevator door opened and stepped in after Brad. “What are we doing here, again?”

He pulled a hand through his blond hair, which was in desperate need of a cut. “It’s just a quick stop to drop off a package for some rich Italian fucker.”

I grabbed my phone back from him and shoved it in my jeans pocket. “What kind of package?”

He shrugged then glanced at his wristwatch. “I dunno. I’m just doing a friend a favor. I didn’t ask any questions.”

“Where is it?”

Brad looked at me with a frown. “Where’s what?”

“The package? I don’t see it in your hands.”

“Oh.” He slapped against his jacket pocket. “It’s a small package.”

The numbers on the side panel lit up as we passed each floor. I rested against the back wall. “Let me guess. This rich dude has the penthouse.”

“Yup.” Brad shifted from one leg to the other, and I noticed he was wearing a new pair of designer jeans. “That’s new?”

“Hmm?”

“The jeans.”

“Oh, yeah. I got them last week.”

I crossed my arms. “Since when can you afford designer jeans?”

“Since I’m delivering packages to rich bastards.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, and I scowled at him. I had known Brad for a few months, and we had a great friendship going. We met through a mutual friend, and he just kind of latched on to me, and I liked having him around. No matter where we went, we always had a good time together.

I sighed, staring at the numbers again. We had six more floors to go before we would finally reach the top, so I glanced at my distorted reflection in the shiny wall and combed my fingers through my messy curls. But it was hopeless with this weather. There was no taming the hot mess growing out of my scalp.

Finally, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Even if I wanted to, I would not have been able to shut my mouth as I stared at the foyer. Light from an elegant crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling touched all the subtle tones of beige and gold, the lighting not too sharp or too dull. Dark marbled floors were a stark contrast to ivory colored walls, creating a sense of balance that made you feel right at home.

“Stop gawking,” Brad mumbled next to me.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the loud screams of the wealth I’m surrounded with.” I turned as we walked farther in. Every inch of the suite was decorated and furnished with rich leather furniture, beautiful landscape paintings, and bouquets of flowers. The fresh scent of lilies brushed my nose, the smell complimenting the pristine surroundings.

“Mr. Saint. It’s good to finally meet you.”

I jerked my head to the side. “Who is Mr. Saint?” I mumbled to myself and quickly followed Brad into the lounge area. The scent of expensive leather and polish clung to the air I breathed.

“My name is Brad. Mr. Reed sent me to—”

“I know who you are. And I know exactly why you’re here.”

The deep, strong voice with a thick Italian accent had every hair on my body raised, and I froze when I caught sight of a man sitting on one of the leather chairs. With his ankle crossed over his other knee, the jacket of his dark navy suit unbuttoned, revealing a crisp white shirt, this man looked as powerful as he was rich. His olive skin was flawless, those pale blue eyes illuminated under the dim lights of the room. Dark hair and a chiseled jawline peppered with a five o’clock shadow had him looking like a man painted in mystery and darkness. The kind of darkness that would devour a woman like me and still not be satiated. His presence alone intimidated the hell out of me.

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