Page 21 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

Somehow, staring at that envelope, knowing it might hold all the answers I’d ever wanted—it scared the shit out of me. For twenty-two years, it was the last thought I had at night and the first when I woke up. Who was my real family? Where were they? And why didn’t they want me? Now, thinking all the answers were a mere arm’s length away was daunting, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I shifted in the seat before looking across the desk at Saint. “Why don’t you tell me?”

His brow slanted in question. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me what I need to know.”

“It’s all there in that envelope. I assure you.”

“I want you to tell me what it is you think I need to know.”

A subtle grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Are you afraid, Mila?”

“Of what?”

“Of what’s inside it.”

I scoffed and looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you blame me?”

“Not in the least. But this is it. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about your family is right there in front of you.”

“Will it tell me what you want with me? Why you took me and brought me here?”

A stiff silence settled, so tight it was like a rubber band which could snap at any second.

His gaze didn’t falter as he leaned back, eyes narrowed, rubbing a finger across the stubble of his five o’clock shadow—the simple act drawing all my attention to his chiseled jaw and annoyingly perfect lips. I could see the veins beneath the tanned skin of his hand, and it made me think of strength and power, liquid domination that pulsed through his blood. Memories of how it felt having his hands wrapped around my wrist and throat bombarded my mind, leaving me breathless in a second of imagining him as something other than my kidnapper. It was insane, and I hated how my body reacted to him.

The expression on his face was guarded, and I had no way of knowing what he was thinking. But I wanted to. I wanted to know what kind of thoughts he harbored when he looked at me with such intensity. What he felt when he stared at me.

“I’ll tell you what.” He got up, and I held my breath as he moved in front of me and rested against the desk, fingers gripping the edges, legs crossed at his ankles. The way he looked at me, the way he moved, spoke. The way he breathed was like he had been born to seduce. The darkness that surrounded him had a certain allure—a toxic mix of sex and hate. Dangerous. Wicked. Lethal. It rolled off him in waves, and it crashed against every bone in my dissolute body.

My heartbeat quickened, the scent of his expensive cologne drifting past, thorns of unsolicited lust pricking my insides. I had to swallow the glass in my throat and breathe past the ice in my lungs.

He picked up the envelope, holding it between his fingers. “You have a choice. Either you look inside this envelope right now, or I tell you what I think you need to know.” He pulled a gold-plated Zippo lighter from his jacket pocket. “But if you choose not to open it, I’ll burn it along with everything inside it right now.” His thumb flicked the flint-wheel, the flame burning beneath the brown paper. “I’m giving you this choice, Mila.”

“Why?” My voice cracked. “Why would you burn it?”

The expression on his face was clear, completely void of any emotion. But his eyes were a storm of blue clouds—strong and threatening. “Life is all about choices. Question is, are you strong enough to carry the consequences of the choices you make?”

It was there. I heard it. The challenge. The dare. A silent, tempting whisper urging me to take up the gauntlet. I wanted to. I wanted to show him I was brave enough, prove to him that he didn’t scare me even though sweat beaded at the back of my neck. But could I trust him? Could I trust that he would tell me everything I needed to know? Of course not. The man kidnapped me, for fuck’s sake. He took me against my will after he killed Brad in cold blood. There was no negotiating, no discussion. He just stormed into my life, unapologetically creating chaos like there was no other option. The man couldn’t be trusted—especially when he looked at me with those deceptive blue eyes. Like the ocean, it lured you in, only to keep you under until you drowned in its beauty. This man was the devil in an Armani suit and Italian leather shoes.

I couldn’t trust him. Never.

But like a stupid moth, I couldn’t stop myself from flying to the flame even though I knew it would incinerate me.

Steeling myself and lifting my chin with confidence, I got to my feet in front of him, our eyes leveled and focused. “Burn it.”

A victorious smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth, the tip of his tongue lapping at the center of his bottom lip. Without saying a word or taking his eyes off mine, he lit the envelope, flames growing bigger and brighter on the side until he dropped it in the steel trashcan next to his desk.

I didn’t break eye contact but saw the flames from the corner of my eye, burning all the answers I’d ever wanted. The smell of paper being incinerated with what I could only assume were pages of secrets filled the room. And for the longest time, while Saint had his eyes fixed on me, it felt like my body was about to burst into flames.

Abruptly, he reached out, grabbed my hip, and pulled me against him. A rush of air escaped my lungs as he forced a thick thigh between my legs, his touch hard and unyielding as his fingers bit into the flesh above my hipbone. My lips parted, a flash of sordid lust rushing up my body.

“What if I told you that you just made the biggest mistake of your life?”

His mouth was a whisper away from mine, and I sucked in a breath as if it was possible to taste him through the air between us. “I’d say I’m hardly surprised.”

“Then why do it?”

I glanced down at the trashcan and the glowing embers of what was left of all my answers. “Because I’m afraid that whatever was in that envelope was an even bigger devil than you.”

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