Page 34 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

“Is that a trick question?”

Elena took a seat on the couch which stood by the closed window. “This is not all bad, Mila.”

“Are you serious?”

“You were barely scraping by back in New York, living in a crummy apartment—”

“I’d rather live in a crummy apartment in New York than be kept prisoner on some luxury estate in fucking Italy.”

“See this as an opportunity.” She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap. “Marcello is a very powerful man.”

“So I’ve noticed.” I turned my back on her and pretended to search through the closet, but, in fact, I hardly noticed anything in the wardrobe.

The click of her heels sounded, and she stepped in next to me, reaching into the closet. “Here.” She pulled out a beige slip dress, the soft silk shining like gold under the dim lights.

I frowned. “I’m not wearing that.”

“I’m afraid it’s either this or sleeping naked.”

I huffed, blowing a curl out of my face. “You don’t have any flannels hidden inside there somewhere? A pair of shorts?”

“Oh, God, no.” Her face scrunched up. “I can assure you there are no flannels in this closet. In fact, there are no flannels in this entire house.”

She forced the night dress into my hands and reached back in. This time, she pulled out a lace overlay dress, short sleeves, round neck—and the worst part…pink. It was a light pink dress, yet she smiled at me as if she just revealed a piece of clothing I had always dreamed about wearing. Not.

“I’m not wearing that either.”

Elena closed the closet door and hung it on the clothing hook. “This is the dress you’ll be wearing tomorrow. I’ll be back in the morning to help with your hair and make-up.” She sauntered to the door, and I gaped after her.

“Um, excuse me? What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Get some rest, Mila. We have a busy few days ahead of us.”

The slam of the door ended the conversation, and the turn of the lock was a hard reminder of what I was. A prisoner. A captive. A woman with no way out.

My decision to wear the pretty beige nightgown was based on that there was no way I’d sleep naked in this house. Not that a flimsy piece of satin could stop a man like Saint from taking what he wanted. But it made me feel less…vulnerable.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. My thoughts were all over the place, panic and uncertainty coming in bouts of fear. There were moments when it was so strong, it felt as if I was moments away from throwing up on the expensive carpet, leaving a puke stain for Saint to remember me by after he murdered me. But Elena’s words stuck with me.“See this as an opportunity.”An opportunity for what? To see how the rich and powerful lived their lives each day, filled with luxuries orphaned kids could only ever dream about? How the wealthy could get whatever they wanted by a mere swipe of a card, have people at their beck and call twenty-four hours, seven days a week? If that was what she meant, then this was definitely not an opportunity, but rather a way to discourage and break the heart of an orphan like me.

An orphan. I’d always hated the label. It made us sound like aliens sent to Earth to use as examples when parents tried to teach ungrateful kids to appreciate their blessed lives more.

I rolled onto my back and stared up the ceiling, all those despondent, innocent, little faces flashing through my mind. Between working two jobs, I always managed to make time to do a few rounds at the orphanage. Not to bathe or feed them—there were enough miserable-looking old women with gray ponytails doing that job. I went there to play with them. To sit on the floor next to them and play cards, snap, snakes and ladders, anything they wanted to. And most of all, I sat there laughing with them, keeping that brave smile on my face because I wanted them to know I was there because I wanted to be. Not because I had to.

Wait.Was that…was that what Elena was trying to tell me?

“Marcello is a powerful man.”

I sat up on my elbows, pursing my lips, and stared at, well…nothing. The thought only stayed in my head for a few minutes longer before the terror of uncertainty started to creep in.

I lay back down. God. There was no stopping my mind from taking me to dark places where all possible outcomes weren’t in my favor. At all.

While I lay there wide awake, every little sound I heard had my heart clawing out of my chest. I kept waiting for him. Kept wondering if he’d come for me during the night. But he didn’t. I was left in peace for a few hours before Elena returned, all bright-eyed and bushytailed. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” I sneered, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Elena glanced at the nightgown I wore. “I see you wore the nightgown.”

“I’m not sleeping naked in the house of a murderer and kidnapper.” I pulled my curls back out of my face. “Not that it would stop him,” I mumbled.

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