Page 66 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“Then tell me,” I urged. “Tell me everything. Tell me your secrets.”

He shook his head and removed his hand from between my legs, my body instantly mourning the loss of his touch. I stared at him in question, but he gazed out over the ocean. “Marina Piccola. They say it is here where the sirens attempted to seduce Ulysses while on his journey back home…to his wife.”

“Ulysses?”

“The Latinized name for Odysseus.” He traced a finger down the small of my back as I lay against him. “After fighting with the Greeks in the war against the city of Troy, he started his voyage back home.” His voice trailed off, his eyes still gazing out across the ocean.

“Attemptedto seduce?”

Saint’s lips curled at the corners. “Ulysses ordered his men to plug their ears with beeswax as to not hear the sirens’ alluring singing.” He looked at me, eyes hard and dark. “If they hadn’t, the sirens would have seduced them and lured them all to their deaths.”

The tenor in his voice lowered, thickened, and he stared at me as to tell me I was the siren whose call could ruin him.

I shook my head lightly. “Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugged and looked back into the distance. “Never trust something that has the power to make you lose control.”

I didn’t understand. Was he telling me that he didn’t trust me, or was he saying he didn’t trust himself when he was with me? I didn’t know, and the confusion was eating away at my insides. I had never felt this conflicted before in my life, and I started to wonder whether the story was meant to tell me not to trust myself—especially when it came to Saint.

My hair was tied at the back of my head in a messy bun, and there were no locks to tuck behind my ear, yet I reached for the scar and absentmindedly circled my fingertip around it.

Saint stiffened beneath me, and I looked up at him.

“Do you think of him every time you touch that scar?”

“Not always.” I answered truthfully. Saint already knew my past and the story behind my scar. “Sometimes I wonder how many kids he’s hurt.”

Hard lines covered his face, his expression stone. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” He shifted, pulled me from his lap, and moved me to the side so he could get up. I didn’t want him to go. In fact, I wanted to beg him to stay, but I didn’t. I hardly had a shred of my dignity left as it was.

“What do you mean by that?” I sat up straight, and Saint rubbed the back of his neck, frustration, indecision, and rage all rolling off him in waves.

“That bastard will never hurt anyone ever again. That’s all you need to know.”

He stomped off and disappeared below deck without another word. Questions ransacked my mind, my thoughts a frenzy of confusion.

What did he mean? What did he do?

And then an image of Brad’s dead body bleeding out on expensive carpet flashed inside mind, my skin turning ice cold.

James cleared his throat, and I looked his way. With a mere nod, he confirmed two things.

He knew what I was thinking. And I was right.

24

Mila

I glancedat Saint and James standing a few feet away from me and Elena, clearly talking about something they didn’t want us to hear. Saint had his hands tucked into his suit pants pockets, the wind ruffling through his midnight black hair. Even from a distance, I could feel his presence wrap around me like a cloak of dominance. There was a mystery about him, a darkness that sucked me in. My body still yearned for him. It still hungered for his wicked touch, wanting to be the canvas he painted with all his twisted intentions. But he hadn’t attempted to touch me again, and it was obvious he avoided situations that would lead us to be alone together. It was funny. It seemed like the tables had turned. As if he was the one fighting me now.

“Come on. Mind your step.” Elena got onto the charter boat and held out a hand toward me. It wasn’t easy climbing onto a speedboat in stiletto heels and a tight pencil skirt while clutching your sunhat to stop the breeze from whisking it away. The nervous butterflies in my stomach didn’t help either. I was about as unsettled as the ocean water which seemed angered by the warm wind.

I boarded and took a seat next to Elena, the sun beaming down as if the floodgates of hell had been opened.

“You look beautiful,” Elena said. “You ready?”

“No,” I answered truthfully. How could I be? I was only informed that we were on our way to Rome a few nights ago. And while Elena did all the talking, enlightening me about the day’s events, Saint sat in deafening silence, not even looking my way. After Elena had said all there was to be said, he merely stood and for the first time during that entire conversation locked eyes with me. “It’s time to introduce Milana Katarina Russo to the world. Do not disappoint me.” That was all he said. Words that made me feel like a child. As if he was convinced I’d screw up. Part of me felt a little vindictive, wanting to prove a point by doing whatever I could to fuck up his plan. But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t like that. I made a deal, and I would stick to it, just like I expected him to keep his end of the bargain once all this was done.

James and Saint joined us, and the engines started. I was surprised when Saint took a seat next to me, the fabric of his suit pants brushing against my naked leg.

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