Page 8 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“I was his only son, Mila. And up until a few hours ago, I was his only child. Being gay means I won’t continue the Torres bloodline. The legacy.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Not to him, it wasn’t.”

I leaned my head back against the door. “Arranged marriages. Family debts. Bloodlines and legacies. God, am I the only one here who’s currently living in the twenty-first century?”

Raphael snickered. “It all does seem rather odd, doesn’t it?”

“I would say fucked up. But yeah, we can go with odd.” I smiled, and Raphael laughed. The moment shined a little light on our dark conversation, and I managed to take a deep breath. Raphael had given me a glimpse of who he was, of his life, and instead of pitying myself, I sympathized with him. “I screwed it up for you, didn’t I?”

Silence.

“We can work it out,” he replied, and I didn’t need to see his face to know he felt skeptical about it all. “I’m going to order some room service. You want something?”

I looked up at the white ceiling. “Cake. I want chocolate cake.”

“Cake?”

“Cake always makes everything better.”

He chuckled. “Chocolate cake it is, then.”

I heard his heavy footsteps as he walked away from the door and pulled my legs up to my chest. My thoughts were a minefield of mayhem. Nothing in my head made sense. Every emotion known to man stormed inside me, and I was drowning in it. Drowning in everything I felt.

Fear.

Uncertainty.

Heartbreak.

Hate.

Sympathy.

Pity.

It was all there, squeezed together in the center of my soul, and it was threatening to erupt unless I managed to get a handle on it. I had to pull my shit together if I didn’t want to break into pieces that would never be mended back together.

I pushed myself off the floor, straightened my pencil skirt, and fluffed my fingers through my hair. With balls of cotton wool stashed in a glass container on the cabinet, I cleaned the mascara stains around my eyes.

A Russo wife always looks her best.

I took a final glance at my reflection after doing some damage control. I still looked like shit, but at least my hair was behaving.

The lock clicked as I turned the doorknob before I walked back to the living room part of the suite. “Please tell me you got the cake?”

“I’m sorry, wife.” The familiar voice brought me to a halt, and my gaze crashed with his. “I’ll make sure to get you some cake on our way back home.”

“Saint. Jesus.”

“No. Just me.”

My heart leaped from my chest, and my every muscle pulled taut. My body froze, the blood in my veins cold as the look in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I could hardly get the words out.

“I’m here to get my wife, of course.”

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