Page 15 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“Is there a difference?”

He grinned. “With me, there is.” The low drum of his voice was laced with dirty fantasies and wicked desires, and I was taken aback by the blaze of jaded lust that struck me.

Ice-blue eyes studied every contour of my face, his head cocked. In a desperate attempt to avoid his entrancing stare, I craned my neck to the side, turning my face away from him. A part of me hoped it would seem more like an act of defiance than a reaction of a woman cowering away.

He brought his hand up, tracing a gentle finger down the side of my jaw, my skin hyperaware of the seduction in his touch. I shuddered and closed my eyes as his hand traveled down the side of my neck, my chest. With parted lips, I exhaled, and the second his greedy fingers reached the swell of my breast I reacted. It was instinct that took over as I swung my arm, but he saw it coming and blocked my hand aimed at his face, grabbing my wrist. His reaction was fast and calculated, pulling my arm to my side, and grabbing my throat with his other hand, pushing my head back against the mirror, my body leaning awkwardly over the countertop.

With a snarl, he brought his face close to mine, jaw clenched, baring his teeth as his top lip curled. “This will be your last warning, Milana. Do not fight me. Do not defy me. And most of all,” he squeezed, fingers biting into the skin of my neck, “do not tempt me.”

His eyes burned into mine like a beast about to devour its prey, his fingers tightening a little more before he finally let go of me with a jerk, stepping back.

I inhaled deep, my body sagging down the counter as I rubbed the skin his fingers bit into.

“You have two more minutes, or I’m coming back to drag your ass out of here.”

I dropped to the floor, still taking one deep breath after the other, watching his black, polished shoes walk away.

“Milana.” My voice croaked, and I looked up at him as he stilled. “You called me Milana.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t turn to face me either.

“Is that me? Is that my real name?”

This time, he glanced over his shoulder, his jaw ticking under the dark five o’clock shadow. “Milana Katarina,” he murmured before walking off without saying another word.

Jesus. Was that my real name? Did Saint really know who I was and who my real family was?

All my life, all I wanted was to know the real me, where I came from, and who my real parents were. It was something most kids in the system always wanted to know, something that haunted us every day of our lives. And now, it seemed like I finally came across someone who could give me the answers I’d always wanted. Too bad that someone had to be the devil.

* * *

The black leggingsand white shirt were ten times more comfortable than the dress they made me wear. Elena didn’t leave me any shoes, but I had no problem walking around barefoot, especially with the cozy temperature of the cabin.

Elena and James sat on the other side of the plane, deep in conversation. I wondered how old Elena was. She didn’t seem a day older than forty, yet I heard Saint calling her his aunt. James seemed younger, though, even younger than Saint, but they were about the same height. Same build.

Without looking down at Saint, I brushed past to take my seat across from him just as a stewardess I had never noticed before placed a plate of food in front of me. She smiled in Saint’s direction, her red lips curved seductively. “Stuffed lamb breast with lemon and ricotta.”

I glanced at the plate. “I…uh—”

Saint grabbed it and shoved it back into her hands. “I asked for the stuffed chicken breast. Not the lamb.”

“Sir—”

“The lady doesn’t eat red meat. I specifically asked for chicken.”

She all but swallowed her smile, her cheeks a panicked pink. “I’m sorry, Mr. Saint.”

“Just get the damn chicken.”

“Yes, Mr. Saint.”

“Oh,” he lifted his hand, “make sure you remove all your personal belongings once we land. You won’t be returning.”

The pink flush on her cheeks melted away, replaced with a sickly white. Her lips fell open, but he merely dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and she shut her mouth, rushing off in the other direction.

Shocked, I widened my eyes and blinked. “You didn’t have to fire her.”

“Of course, I did.” He sipped from his new glass.

---