Page 38 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“Grazie, Piero.”

“Solita suite, signor Saint?”

Saint glanced down at me as we stepped inside the elevator. “Yes. Same suite. Thank you, Piero.” He settled his hand against the hollow of my back. “You’ll start learning Italian when we get back to the Empress.”

“I will?”

“Sì.”

The panel of buttons lit up as the elevator moved. A sickening feeling of nostalgia gripped my insides. I remembered the day Brad and I got into the elevator on our way up to deliver a package. Little did I know I was the package and Brad was living the last fifteen minutes of his life. Now, while I stood next to Saint dressed in designer clothes, tucked safely at his side, that night felt surreal. Like it never happened. As if it was just a nightmare. But the one thing I remembered so vividly, so clearly as if it happened yesterday, was the sight of Brad’s body, the bullet wound in his head bleeding out as the fibers of the plush carpet soaked it all in. I remembered the metallic smell, the pungent stench of fresh blood that propelled a violent surge of nausea up my throat. The urge to vomit was overwhelming, and I had to place my hand in front of my mouth and close my eyes, trying my best not to get sick on the marble floor of the elevator.

“Mila, are you okay?”

I held up my hand to stop Saint from getting too close in case I decided to ruin his Italian leather shoes. “I’m okay.” My words were choked. “I just…I feel a little lightheaded. That’s all.”

“You haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’m fine.” I swallowed hard and tried to choke down the nausea.

The elevator doors opened, and Piero stepped out as Saint took my hand, ushering me out of the confined space and into a spacious foyer adorned with vintage Italian architecture and Renaissance design. Tall pillars stood in the archway that separated the foyer from the living room. I slowly twirled around, trying to take in every inch of the suite. There was only one word to describe it. Majestic…just like my husband.

“I’ll order us some room service. You need to eat.”

I wanted to object but realized my nausea was gone. Probably stunned by the lavish surroundings I was trying to take in all at once.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Saint walked out in front. “Our bedroom is the one at the end of the hall, with the terrace.”

I balked. “Ourbedroom?”

He turned to face me. “Yes, Mila. Our bedroom. Would you prefer to have your own?”

“Well…um—”

“Good.” He smirked. “Like I said, at the end of the hall.”

Heat flooded my cheeks like I was a damn high school girl on prom night, about to share a room with a boy for the first time.

“Fuck,” I muttered when Saint disappeared behind a pillar, out of sight.

Aimlessly, I roamed through the suite, gently touching polished furniture and smooth surfaces. Two months ago, I was living in a crummy apartment with a drug addict roommate who didn’t even know I was there. And now, here I was, wandering the halls of a presidential suite only the world’s wealthiest people could afford.

A double door led to the indoor swimming pool, and I sucked in a breath. More pillars stretched from the floor to the high ceiling, the temperature slightly more humid than the rest of the suite. My heels clicked loudly on the granite flooring, so I slipped them off and traipsed around the pool. The water was crystal, and two mosaic dolphins adorned the bottom of the pool as if made of precious gems. Exotic plants stood in all corners of the open space, an earthy scent masking the smell of chlorine.

I bent at the knee and eased my fingers through the lukewarm water. It felt like silk against my skin, and even though I had been through hell to get here, for a single moment I relished the luxuries of my new life.

“Go on. Take a swim.”

I noticed Saint lean against a pillar as he watched me with devil eyes. “We bought dresses and lingerie. Not swimwear.” I straightened, but Saint remained still.

“Swim naked.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Take off your clothes, Mila.”

I let out a laugh and cast my eyes up to the ceiling. “You’re not serious.”

“Take off. Your clothes.”

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