Page 27 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“Why is that?”

I lifted my face to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to ruin this.” I nestled my face back against his shoulder, still safely cradled in his arms. “This is the most normal moment I’ve had with you. And whether this is real or not, for now I choose to believe it is. It will give me strength to face whatever tomorrow brings.” I pressed my body harder against his. “Whatever your next move may be.”

“What makes you think I have a next move?”

“You’re Marcello Saint Russo. You always have a next move.”

He let out a low, grumbled snicker that reverberated from his chest. “Seems like you’re starting to figure me out.”

I looked up at him from under my lashes. “Is that not what a wife is supposed to do? Figure out her husband so she knows how to support him best?”

Our gazes locked, his eyes no longer a storming ocean, but rather a calm blue sky. It was the first time I’d seen him look at me in that way—as if I was no longer something he wanted to use, but rather something he wanted to protect. It was unnerving how one simple glance shared between us could fill my belly with a thousand fluttering wings of butterflies that were kept prisoner inside me.

He tilted his head and brushed a curl from my cheek, his fingers as gentle as the breeze. “You trust me?”

“No,” I answered without hesitation. “But for some reason, I trust what I’m feeling when I’m with you.”

“And what’s that?”

I reached up and cupped his cheek, and his lips parted from my touch. “I’m not sure yet. But whatever it is, it’s making me breathe easier.”

He placed his hand over mine. “There’s only one way an angel can lose her wings…and that’s by trusting the devil.”

“Luckily, I’m no angel.” I leaned my head back down on his shoulder. “At least not anymore.”

Silence settled once again, but this time I could hear the steady beating of his heart. It was surprisingly comforting. How could the devil’s heartbeat be so soothing, calming, as if my chaos craved his? Was it possible there had been a darkness in me all along, a shadow that finally found the phantom it needed to cling to in order to thrive?

Enveloped by his warmth and enclosed by his strong arms, my eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic crash of waves, the cool breeze that kissed my skin, and the beautiful sound of his blackened beating heart appeased me, and I gently slipped from consciousness to a peaceful slumber.

“Saint?”

“Yeah.” His fingers caressed my bare arm.

“Can we stay here?” I nestled deeper into him. “Just tonight.”

He took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay.” His lips brushed against my hair. “Just tonight.”

10

Saint

She had been sleepingagainst my chest for hours, and I never closed my eyes once. Like the song went, I didn’t want to miss a thing. I didn’t want to miss a second of how her beauty beamed while she slept so peacefully. Who knew when all this started that I’d be sitting here, flat on my ass with the Torres girl in my arms? I sure as fuck never could have imagined this would be where we’d end up, that this woman would fuck with my head and make me question everything. Milana Torres was supposed to be nothing but a pawn, yet here she was—the beautiful face of a complication a man like me couldn’t afford. But right now, right this moment, it seemed I was willing to pay any price, sacrifice everything if it meant she’d stay mine. Every moment, every second that passed, my need for revenge dripped from an open wound in my soul while Mila filled the emptiness with something that made me care less and less about the factors that had forced her into my life in the first place.

Her soft, rhythmic breathing soothed me, and I loved how it felt having her in my arms, how she snuggled up against me, her beautiful lips slightly parted as she slept. Like an angel, she hypnotized me, made me see things in a different light. For hours, I sat there and wondered how it was possible for her to change the last twenty years of my life within the span of weeks. I went from strong in vengeance to weak in love—or whatever the fuck this was I felt for this woman. It probably wasn’t love. A man like me wasn’t capable of loving, yet I knew what I was feeling was the closest I’d ever come to it. The question was…would I let it continue to weaken me? Or did I fight it to regain the power I had worked so hard for—power to destroy my father and the evil he had brought into my life? Everything my father touched turned to black, which was why we were in the middle of this war in the first place.

I glanced down at her and brushed a curl from her face.

What if I had the same toxic touch as my father? What if I only corrupted instead of protected?

“Don’t.”

I looked up at Aunt Elena who stood by the stairs, clutching her black silk nightgown, hair cascading down her shoulders. “Don’t let the memory of your father and what happened to your mother poison what you’re feeling for her.”

Instinctively, my hold around Mila tightened, her deep breathing reassuring me that she was still fast asleep. “How can I not? The same toxic blood that flows through my father’s veins pulses through mine.”

“A man’s soul is in his blood, and your soul is nothing like your father’s.”

“I’ve killed before.” I looked at her. “I’ve done more wrong than right in my life.”

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