Page 3 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

Raphael lifted a brow. “After the morning we’ve had, I’ll assume you have the emotional capacity of a brick if you didn’t.”

“That’s awesome, then.”

I sighed and continued to rub my achy feet.

My gaze drifted around the hotel suite. It wasn’t nearly as big and lavish as the penthouse suite back in New York, the one where I met Saint. It was an open-plan suite, and the only thing separating the bedroom from the living room was two four-panel room dividers. Gold colored curtains draped down the framed windows which allowed the perfect view over the city of Rome. The light beige filigree wallpaper added a vintage touch to the suite, the posh couches inviting and comfortable.

The sound of clinking ice cubes reminded me of the summer heat that beamed down outside, and I was thankful for the comfort of a well-air-conditioned room.

Raphael handed me a glass and settled on the couch across from me. “All this time you were alive and half a world away. My sister.” His voice rang with disbelief, and he leaned back into the couch, pushing a hand through his hair. “Incredible. Non ci posso credere.”

I pressed my lips in a thin line. “I don’t understand—”

“You don’t speak Italian?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just…this is just unbelievable. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“It’s been weeks since I found out, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”

Raphael sat up. “So, Saint just found you in New York and brought you here?”

“You could say that.” There was still no way of knowing who I could trust, and it made me hesitant to share too much. Sure, I could tell Raphael all about how Saint killed Brad and kidnapped me, then forced me to marry him. I could give him every sordid detail of my ordeal ever since Saint catapulted into my life and threw everything off-kilter. But I’d learned in the past never to play all your cards at once. Never do something when you’re not one hundred percent sure—which was why I chose not to divulge too many details right off the bat.

“Why, though? I can’t help but think his timing was too perfect.” Raphael took a sip from his drink. “It’s as if he waited for the exact moment right before the deal between his father and me got signed.”

“I don’t—”

His phone started ringing, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and answered. “Yeah.” He looked at me. “She’s with me. No, there’s no sign of him.” He stroked his jaw with his fingers. “Yeah, I’ll send it through now.” He hung up and placed his phone on the coffee table in front of us.

“Who was that?” I shifted in my seat.

“Mr. Russo.”

I narrowed my eyes, and Raphael must have noticed the confused look on my face.

“He’s just as confused as I am. It’s safe to say everyone is shocked.”

I settled a little. “Have you…” I swallowed. “Does our mom know I’m with you?”

Raphael diverted his gaze, his shoulders squared as if he steeled himself. “No. Not yet. I wanted us to have some time to talk first. I don’t want to upset her.”

“And knowing about me being here with you would upset her?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” He leaned back with his arms behind his neck. “This is all still surreal. I guess I just want some time to get this all figured out in my head before I tell her. Ever since my father,” he cleared his throat, “ourfather passed away, she’s been lost without him. I don’t want to upset her more than she already is.”

What he said kind of made sense, but it hurt to think that knowing about me, knowing I was here and this close to her, would upset her.

Maybe I was being overly sensitive and reading too much into what probably was a son’s genuine concern for his mother. Just like he was a stranger to me, I was a stranger to him—to her.

“I understand,” I replied with a forced smile. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yes, it is. What I don’t understand is…you are married to Saint, right?”

With a lump in my throat and a twisted gut, I nodded.

“Why would you run from your husband? What would have happened if I didn’t drive down that road and spot you running away from him?”

---