Page 15 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“I didn’t do anything,” he barked, the gold chain around his neck glinting in the last sun rays as dusk started to settle on the horizon. “You were a ten-year-old boy—”

“Twelve.”

“Who gives a shit? It’s time to get over it, Marcello.”

“Never,” I growled, hate dripping from my tongue like toxin. “I will never get over what you did.”

He stepped forward. “I didn’t do anything.”

“See, you’re so good at lying even you are starting to believe the bullshit coming out of your damn mouth.”

My father stood there, and the corner of his mouth curved as if I amused him. As if this entire situation amused the fuck out of him.

I crossed my arms. “You know what you did. And soon the entire fucking world will know it.” I stepped back, the hate I felt toward him oozing out of my pores like pus from an infected wound. “You better leave before I decide to cut your motherfucking throat before you even have a chance to confess.”

The smirk on his face remained. “I have nothing to confess. You, on the other hand, seem to have quite a bit to confess. Forcing a young woman to marry you so you can get her shares in a company you don’t even want is not appropriate behavior, Marcello.”

“Who are you to tell me about appropriate behavior?”

His expression hardened, and his jaw ticked, a sign I had struck a nerve by speaking a truth he refused to confess. The rage between us thickened the air, hate sharpening its nails against the tension that was on the verge of snapping. The sight of him had me grasping at every drop of control I had. It was the one good lesson my father had taught me—never lose control of your emotions. If you did, you lost control of the situation. And losing control of the situation was as lethal as exposing one’s weakness.

I inhaled deeply, making a conscious effort to allow air to settle in my lungs. “Leave. Now.”

“Does she know?”

My eyes narrowed.

“Does. She. Know?” He spat out his words and accentuated every fucking letter as if pounding nails into my skull.

My mouth dried, and I licked my lips while crossing my arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know that piece of shit bodyguard of yours got his hands on a copy.”

I widened my stance, the skin on the back of my neck tingling with warning. By the look in his eyes, I knew there was no use trying to deny it. Shame on me for thinking my father wouldn’t have the means to find out something as vital as the existence of a second will and the inclusion of a tiny clause that had the power to change the playing field.

My father lifted a brow, creases forming on his forehead. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“We are done here.” I turned my back on him and walked toward the yacht.

“A word of advice, son,” he called after me. “One should never start a marriage with lies. It festers, and in the end, it poisons everyone.”

I paused and glowered at him over my shoulder. “You’re right. And we all know in the end…it kills.”

I boarded the Empress and ordered the crew to get us out of the marina as soon as possible. I needed to put a fuck-load of distance between Mila and my father—not to mention Raphael. Fucker could not be trusted with her.

Aunt Elena came strolling toward me while I poured myself a drink. “What did your father want?”

“He just wanted to make sure I had enough motivation to want to ruin him by being a dick.” I grabbed a wine glass and poured her some chardonnay.

She nodded her appreciation and took a sip. “Do you think he’ll come after her?”

“I’d be underestimating him if I thought otherwise.”

“Well, I’m glad you managed to find her. I just popped into her room to check on her, and she’s still sleeping.”

I slipped my suit jacket down my arms and tossed it over the counter. “She’s exhausted.” I started rolling up my sleeves. “We just need to get the fuck out of here so I can make sure no one gets near her again.”

Elena gave me a knowing look, her brown eyes focused as if she was trying to see right through me. “You care for her.”

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