Page 38 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

A single curl that escaped her up-styled hair hung down her cheek, and she swept it behind her ear. “You went through a lot of trouble to find me, to bring me here. And how you killed Brad without blinking tells me there’s a reason I’m still breathing. If there was any other way apart from marrying me for you to get your hands on those shares, I wouldn’t be here.”

I licked my lips. “You say that as if it’s supposed to be news to me.”

“You need me. I don’t know what your plans are once you get your hold on my shares, but all I know is you need me.” With her shoulders squared and chin up, she approached me with a single, defiant step. “Without me, you’re screwed.”

My nostrils flared, and I started to lean more toward angered and annoyed rather than amused. “I should warn you. It’s not wise to bargain with me.”

“I don’t care. You want me to play the part of a doting wife and turn up at the sham of a wedding you and your freakishly overly-friendly aunt who I like much more than you right now are planning, then I need to get something out of this as well.”

My anger dissipated a little. Amazing how her voice went from angry, to determined, to quirky in the same sentence.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms. “I’ll play along. What do you want? A seven-figure bank account? A house in Bali? An endless supply of Lakers t-shirts and torn jeans?”

“Funny.” Her forehead creased as she frowned. “I don’t want your money for myself.”

“But youdowant my money?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, the first sign of insecurity she had shown since she walked in here. “I want you to help me open an orphanage back home, one where kids don’t get thrown in any and every foster home just to be able to give their bed to the next child that comes along.”

My eyes widened. “An orphanage?”

“Yes. I know it probably doesn’t make sense to someone like you, to want to help people instead of killing and kidnapping them—”

“Be careful, Mila,” I warned. There were already numerous times she disrespected me in this conversation. “You know, if I didn’t have my hand against your cunt yesterday, I would have thought you had balls between those sweet legs of yours.”

Her cheeks exploded into a deep shade of pink, the flush spreading all the way down her neck, her chest. It was fucking beautiful, the way my filthy mouth made her skin glow.

“Jesus,” she muttered. The curl she tucked back earlier escaped again, brushing against her cheek, and she blew it out of her face with a huff. I didn’t know what it was, but she had become more beautiful between the time she had walked in here and now. This moment.

Without looking at me, she continued. “I’ll play my part.” She swallowed, her slender throat bobbing. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Marry you and pretend to be your wife.” She bit her lip and glanced at me from beneath long lashes, uncertainty dousing the brilliance of those emerald irises. “If you help me with the orphanage.”

I scratched a finger down the side of my face. “Do you have any idea how much red tape there is when it comes to starting such an establishment, and then running it? It’s not a fucking grocery store, Mila.”

“I know that.”

“So, what?” I shrugged. “I give you the money you need in order to start the orphanage, and then what? You just find a big enough building, hand out a few flyers, and start taking in kids?”

“Do not talk to me like I’m stupid.” Her nostrils flared, and her lips pulled in a straight line. “I know starting an orphanage isn’t something you can slap a few zeros on and make it happen overnight. There are regulations and legal issues, stuff I have no clue about.” She rubbed a hand up and down her arm, a telltale sign she was becoming nervous. “That’s why…” She swallowed. “That’s why I’m going to need more than just your money. I just want to help the kids, do what I can—”

“To stop what happened to you from happening to another child.” It wasn’t a question. I knew exactly why, out of all the riches and wealth I could give her to make sure she never wanted for anything ever again, she chose to ask my help so she could help others.

Her eyes flashed with surprise. “You know.”

“You’re going to be my wife, Mila. Do you really think I would marry a woman I know absolutely nothing about?”

“Guess not.” There was a distinct hostility in the way she sneered the words. Clearly, she didn’t like the fact that I knew everything about her, even the darkest secrets she shared with no one. She rubbed a finger against her temple, and I could see she was losing her nerve. “Will you help me or not?”

With narrowed eyes, I studied her, scrutinized her, allowing her proposal to linger. In all my years of doing business with different types of people around the world, I had learned how to read people. How to interpret their body language, see the subtle signs of whether one could be trusted or not. Whether they were laying all their cards on the table, or keeping their true motivations hidden. Call it a trick of the trade, a sixth sense when it came to dealings with other people. And right now, my every instinct had me convinced there was so much more to her story. Another reason, perhaps even a stronger one that would push her to want to make this deal with me. Now I wanted to know what that reason was—Ineededto know. It was the same type of curiosity that burned at the fingertips of a child who stared at a button with a huge ‘do not push’ sign on it. It was next to impossible not to find out what would happen once that you pushed that fucking button. Mila managed to pique my curiosity, and I wouldn’t stop until my curiosity had been satisfied.

This might also end up being the opportunity I had patiently been waiting for, twisting her proposition so it could work in my favor.

I rubbed my fingers against the stubble on my chin. “Fine. I’ll help you, give you whatever you need to make this orphanage project work.” Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a breath of relief. “But,” I continued, and her wary gaze cut to mine, “you have to agree to be my wife for at least six months, even after you sign your shares over to me.”

“What?” she blurted. “That’s not the deal.”

I smirked. “It is now.”

“You can’t do that.” The flush on her cheeks was gone, her eyes wide in shock. “Saint, you can’t do that.”

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