Page 22 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“And it’s not right now…why, exactly?”

She fixed the last pin in my hair and stepped back, admiring the final product. “Let’s focus on tonight for now, okay?”

I turned to face her. “I know what you’re doing, Elena.”

She feigned a look of innocence. “Mila, dear, I have no clue as to what you are insinuating.”

I slipped the black Jimmy Choo heels onto my feet. “Of course, you don’t. You’re just an innocent bystander in all of this.”

“That I am.”

I narrowed my eyes at her and sauntered out of the room.

“Mila,” she called after me, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Remember what I told you. Be the reflection of his power, his confidence, and he will give you what you need to thrive.”

“Right now, I’m not even sureIknow what I need.”

“You will.”

“Let’s hope.”

I walked toward the exit to the deck. The knots inside my stomach reminded me of the feeling I had when I went on my first date. I had snuck out of the foster home I’d been living in and walked three blocks alone in the dark to meet this guy at some twenty-four-hour diner that served the worst pecan pie, but made a decent chocolate milkshake which I ended up having on my own since the douche stood me up. When I got back home two hours later, I paid for those two hours with a two-night stay in a closet where I was forced to piss right there where I sat. What was supposed to be one of the best nights of a young girl’s life turned into one of those moments I wished I could compartmentalize and forget it ever happened.

My heels clicked as I stepped onto the wooden deck, the gentle summer breeze warding off the humid summer air and welcomed against my heated skin.

I scanned around when I heard his smooth baritone voice, the richness of his tone causing my heart to hiccup. “I’m up here.”

I looked up and saw him leaning against the barrier on the upper level of the yacht. He indicated the spiral stairs on the left, and I realized I’d spent weeks on this yacht and never once gone up to the top level.

My pulse beat like a drum while a thousand butterfly wings set off a flurry of excitement, anticipation, as well as a gust of uncertainty. There was no logical reason for me to feel the way I did, for me to be this eager for the night ahead. It was surreal how my heart raced with fear a while back because of this man, and now it was soaring without fear just like it did the night of my first date. A part of me prayed it wouldn’t end with me paying dearly for feeling just a sliver of hope.

My Jimmy Choo heels touched the top deck, and my heart hiccupped when I found Saint standing by the barrier, wearing an open collar light blue dress shirt which made the color of his eyes pop under the moonlight.

With his sleeves rolled up mid-arm, I could see the thick veins that pulsed with strength. Roped muscles veiled beneath flawless skin. The dark navy and perfectly tailored pants he wore rested on his hips and reminded me of the perfect V that hid behind that belt, the part of his body I had in full view when I had him inside my mouth, forced to take every inch of his length. One would think the memory should nauseate me, disgust me. But it didn’t. Back then, I saw the monster, but now I saw the quintessential classic alpha male that hid behind the mask of a beast. Marcello Saint Russo was the epitome of perfection. The lack of a tie and suit jacket didn’t wane the authority he radiated. Complete dominance rolled off him in waves, and it crashed against my every bone. It was unsettling how, from a single glance, my body yearned to obey him. And while he focused solely on me, arm flexing as he took a sip from the champagne flute in his hand, it was painfully obvious that he saw it too. My attraction to him. This surreal pull I felt toward him—the man who had once been my cruel captor, and maybe still was. But if I had to be honest with myself, I’d admit I was no longer here because I was forced—but rather because I wanted to be.

His liquid gaze dragged down the length of my body as if he was soaking me in. “You look beautiful.” His eyes found mine, and I held my breath as he stalked closer. “Red. You should wear it more often.” He continued toward me, and I was sure my heart was about to break out of my chest.

I sucked in a breath as he stilled mere inches from me, towering over me like a mountain, carved out of strength and power. Majestic. His familiar scent was subtle, yet strong enough to cause my legs to weaken.

He reached out and dragged his knuckles down the side of my neck, and I shivered. “And like I’ve said before, I love when you wear your hair up. It suits you.” His voice was smooth, bold, and dripped with seduction as he pronounced every word with clarity, his thick Italian accent hypnotizing me.

For a moment, as our gazes locked, I was sure he would kiss me. My lips tingled with anticipation, my body ready to be raptured by the beast. The monster. My husband.

Disappointment flooded me when he tore his touch from my skin. “My beautiful secret, now my beautiful wife.”

His words reminded me of how we got here, how we ended up in this exact moment. “You sound like a doting husband.”

“Who says I’m not?”

I cocked a brow in disbelief. “Too much champagne?”

His rich yet modest laughter reverberated through my core. “Come, let’s enjoy the night Elena had planned for us.”

As he turned and stepped to the side, a romantic table set for two was revealed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “It seems like your aunt is trying to create some romance.”

“That is my aunt Elena. An old romantic at heart.” Saint pulled out a chair like a gentleman, and I sat down. As if my heart wasn’t racing fast enough, he rested both his palms on my naked shoulders, his touch cool and welcoming against the evening heat.

He leaned down, lips brushing against the curve of my ear. “Red becomes you, Mila. Whether it’s the color of your dress, or the shade of your skin burning from the bite of leather.”

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