Page 16 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

I glanced at her. “I care for the situation, and right now it’s in all of our best interests to keep her isolated.”

Elena leaned over the countertop and pinned me with her stare. “What’s going on, Marcello? What are you hiding?”

I emptied my glass and sucked air through my teeth, avoiding Elena’s intrusive gaze. I didn’t care much for her tarot card readings and self-proclaimed connection to the spirit world, but she had a sixth sense when it came to me. Like now, the way she looked at me, it was like she saw the tail of my secret and it was only a matter of time until she caught it.

With a huff, I grabbed the bourbon bottle and my glass. “I’ll be out on the deck enjoying my drink in peace.” My leather shoes thumped as I stomped from the bar and out on the wooden deck. Dusk was fading into black, the salty breeze cooling Roma from the grueling heat it had endured. As I sat down on the recliner, I leaned back and let out a deep sigh as if it was possible to breathe out the pressure of the last twelve hours, which felt more like twelve days.

The sound of the yacht’s engines filled the night sky. It was soothing to hear it run, the water splashing against the sides of the vessel. Watching the distance between us and the marina widen, some of the day’s tension slithered out of my shoulders.

I had her back. After hours of not having her in my sight, on the brink of losing my shit, I had her back. Right where I wanted her. Where I controlled her.

Where I could keep the truth from her—at least until I’d made my final decision.

6

Mila

The last thingI recalled was a vivid memory of Saint carrying me, his arms tightly wound around my body while my head rested on his chest. Despite him being such a cold-hearted asshole, the way he held me felt warm and comforting.

After that, everything just went dark until I opened my eyes and stared at the rays of sunlight shining through the cabin window. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Not even my thoughts stirred any noise. It was calm. Serene. Tranquil.

I stretched to wake my muscles, the blanket soft and comfortable. And as I settled again, that feeling of someone watching me slithered across my skin.

I sat up, only to find Saint sitting in a chair across from the bed, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger, staring at me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

He shifted. “Not long.”

I glanced at his shirt and pants. It was the same clothes he wore yesterday. A half-bottle of bourbon and an empty glass stood on the side table next to him with dried liquid stains on the floor.

I looked into his eyes. “Liar.”

“Not many people have the balls to call me a liar to my face.”

“We’ve established I don’t have balls.”

He smirked. “You sure about that?”

Invitation gleamed in his eyes. He wanted me to provoke him, to challenge him. To give him the opportunity he was waiting for—an opportunity to make me surrender yet again. But I chose to ignore it even though I couldn’t shake the sexual tension that trickled all over my skin as he watched me with wicked intent.

I put my feet on the ground and sat on the side of the bed. “Will you ever give me answers?”

“To which questions?”

“All of them.”

He moved his arm down and swirled a finger around the rim of the empty glass.

I frowned. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” He placed a finger against his lips as he studied me. It reminded me of the first time I saw him, thinking of how perfect his lips were. Saint was beyond attractive. He was like a flame in the darkness—burning with wrath and fury, refusing to be contained as it ravaged everyone and everything around it. And me? I was the moth, the creature seduced by its beauty, hypnotized by its glowing embers and flying right to the heart of the fire only to be burned to ash.

“One,” he said simply.

I stared at him in question.

“You can ask me one question every day. Any question, and I’ll answer it.”

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