Page 19 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

With a smirk, he moved toward me, slowly, taking one intimidating step at a time. I felt like goddamn prey, knowing it was cornered and seconds away from being devoured from head to toe.

My back hit the wall, forcing a rush of air from my lungs. His six-foot-three frame, hungry gaze, and perfect lips had me pressing my nails against the concrete behind me. Being five-foot-six, I had never felt small, but while he had me trapped between him and the wall, my lungs felt like I was being smothered.

He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look up. “You think I have a filthy mouth now? Wait until you feel it between your legs. I give a whole new meaning to the word filthy, my littlesegreto.”

I hated it. I hated how he so easily intimidated me, affecting me with his blatant sexual innuendos. The fucker kidnapped me. Did he really think I’d fall on my back and beg him to use me?

Inching away from the wall, my bare toes touching his Italian leather shoes, I looked up at him, determined to show every ounce of defiance I had pulsing through my veins. “Fuck. You.” I arched a brow. “How’s that for a filthy mouth?”

My heart raced like crazy, but I kept my expression stone as he bit his lip. I was sure the vein in my neck was about to explode, and the longer he stood there staring down at me, the harder it became to keep my composure from faltering.

His hand dropped from my chin, steel eyes holding me captive. “Be careful,segreto.You don’t want to make this too much fun for a man like me.”

“You mean a demented man?”

He leaned down and snarled, “A determined one.”

He stepped back, and I held my breath as we stared at each other, the tension between us on the verge of cracking.

“Get dressed and come to my office down the hall. We have much to discuss.”

“No shit.”

“And don’t try to do anything stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Run.” An eyebrow lifted in warning. “Consider it a temporary leniency on my part by not locking you in this room. Do something stupid, and that leniency is no more.”

He turned, heading toward the door, but stopped. “And take a shower. You stink.”

The door slammed shut, echoing his very fucking dramatic exit.

“Fucker,” I muttered.

Flustered and a nervous wreck, I weaved fingers through my hair as I glanced around the room. Decorated with natural colors, the room was perfectly airy and open—besides the lack of an open window. The bed frame consisted of cream-colored upholstered leather, the winter white sheets ruffled from where I had lain. The headboard matched the frame, thick metallic curtains hanging down behind it, ceiling lamps connected to the corners of the bed with stainless steel chains. It was ultra-modern and eclectic, yet there was a touch of elegance with dark gray walls and a silver oval shaped mirror hanging above a side table. Of course, I wasn’t surprised to see more marble floors, as it seemed Saint really had a thing for marble.

Closet doors caught my attention, and I was surprised to find it filled with women’s clothing. Little less surprised that it was all in my size—even the shoes—since Saint seemed to be a creeper that way.

“You stink,”I mocked in a husky voice as I went through the vast selection of dresses, blouses, and skirts. I noticed there were no pants, not a single pair of jeans or leggings. I stepped back and placed my hands on my hips, huffing a strand of hair from my face.

Well, this sure was a step up from my wardrobe back home, which consisted of three pairs of jeans, two shorts, and five t-shirts I collected from rock concerts. The room was definitely an upgrade from the crummy space I called a bedroom back in New York. I’d be stupid if I didn’t see all the luxuries that came along with my questionable kidnapping. What did he really want with me? And why did he treat me like a conquest, like I was an animal whose head he wanted hung on his study wall?

Screw that. I was not about to glam up with pretty clothes and expensive shoes, like a pig being fattened up just before being slaughtered.

Closing the closet doors, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, scrunching my hair to tame it a little. “That will do,” I said to myself and headed out of the room.

Just like the bedroom, the floors down the hall were made from the same marble, the walls a similar gray. It would have been dark if it weren’t for the skylights that lit the hall. The natural sunlight added a subtle shimmer to the flooring, a touch of elegance. If I had been here under different circumstances, I would have had a better appreciation for the blatant flaunting of money by a rich bastard who went around New York kidnapping girls and flying them off to Italy.

I ambled down the hall, my footsteps light within the silence. The door at the very end was my destination, as per instruction. I wondered how he could be so certain I wouldn’t take a chance and run. How he was so sure I wouldn’t attempt to escape.

My skull burned with a need to find a way out, but Saint had used the ultimate weapon to ensure I didn’t run just yet. The promise of answers. Maybe I would have been slightly more hesitant walking toward the door, but my need for answers had me putting one foot in front of the other. He said he’d give me answers, and I would do everything I could to keep him to his word. Even if I had to play him at his own game. Years of fending for myself, surviving the streets by doing what needed to be done, gave me an advantage. If Saint thought he had taken a girl who would crumble under the slightest pressure, he made a huge mistake taking me.

Once I reached the door, I was ready to knock when I caught my hand trembling. The fight in me refused to acknowledge the thick fear that coated my throat. Fear made you weak. Fear made you lose control, and that was what Saint wanted. For me to lose control so he could take it.

Out of sheer defiance, instead of knocking, I went for the doorknob and opened the door. Why would I stand outside in the hall like a servant waiting for permission to enter?

I swung the door open. Saint was leaning against his desk, arms crossed in front of him like he had been waiting for me all along. “I knew you wouldn’t have the manners to knock first.”

---