Page 31 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

I popped a grape into my mouth. “Is there any end to his wealth?”

“Not that I know of.”

“And this charity ball, is there a reason he doesn’t want me to go?”

She wiped her lips with her napkin and set it down beside her plate. “A man like Marcello prefers to keep his most prized possessions hidden from greedy eyes, Mila.”

“I’m not his possession.”

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Are you not?”

Annoyance bloomed in my chest. “He might own me on paper, but I can assure you I am not his possession.”

“Nevertheless,” she stood, “Marcello won’t be flaunting you in public any time soon. In the meantime, get ready to go spend your husband’s hard-earned money.” She winked and trotted off, leaving me alone at the breakfast table. The last hour didn’t quite go as I had imagined it would, not after the night Saint and I shared. I walked up those stairs with butterflies in my belly and goosebumps on my skin. Now I sat with a gut filled with uncertainties and a tingle of warning in the back of my neck. This was how it would be with Saint. One giant roller coaster of emotions, jumping from surety to doubt within the blink of eye. Saint was not the kind of man you’d get to know what to expect of from one day to the other. Every day would be different, and nothing about being with him would ever end up being routine. In order to arm myself, to know what every new day with Saint would bring, was to always expect the unexpected.

For the rest of the morning, I roamed around the front of the yacht, reclined on the couch reading a magazine, and enjoyed a little vitamin D that soaked through my pores. Both Elena and Saint had been absent, and it was only James’s presence that lingered around me. I was getting used to having his hawk eyes on me whenever I wasn’t safely tucked away in my bedroom. Who knew what he expected to happen since I couldn’t go anywhere. Well, I could if I knew how to ride a Jet Ski, or if I could swim for miles on end. Other than that, I was pretty well hidden in the middle of the fucking ocean.

I huffed and tossed the magazine down on the ground. It frustrated me to think of Saint wanting to hide me, wanting to keep me on this yacht for the next four months. Our agreement was six months, and we were already two months in. Two months of complete mindfuckery. I glanced up at the glass and steel-bar barrier on the top level. Also some carnal, dangerous fuckery.

It was safe to say I had never experienced sex like I had with Saint before. The kink. The darkness. The way he demanded my submission and I so freely gave it. I knew I was a lot of things, but I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who would like to be sexually dominated. In fact, Saint’s dominance went far beyond the bedroom. How he gripped my thigh earlier with the hidden warning of my defiance by not wearing red, the pain that flared down my leg, I liked it. I liked the thrill, the adrenaline that surged through my veins within a split second. All it took was one hard, prominent touch, and the need to submit flared between my legs.

“You ready?”

I looked up at Saint, who blocked the sun by towering over me. “Ready for?”

“Our trip to Milan.” His expression showcased his annoyance and his lack of enthusiasm.

I swung my feet off the recliner and stood. “Are you going to be a buzzkill?”

His eyebrows almost touched his hairline. “A buzzkill?”

“I’ll admit shopping is not my sport of choice, but I’m looking forward to wearing clothes of my own choosing, as well as seeing places that are not this yacht.” I rested my hands on my hips. “If you are going to be carrying that expression for the duration of the trip, maybe you should consider staying rather than spoiling it for all of us.”

His lips curved into a smile, but nothing about it was kind or inviting. Instead it was ominous, and the way he grabbed my elbow, jerking me up against him without caring that his fingers sliced into my flesh, was a reflection of his malicious smile.

“I might find your blatant defiance amusing at times, Mila. But do not test me by thinking you can raise your voice at me.” His grip tightened as he lowered his face to mine. “Once we are back from Milan, you will go straight to your room and anticipate the type of punishment you deserve.”

“What…punishment?” My voice was a mere whisper, a stutter of words.

“You’ll have the entire trip to wonder about that.” He leaned down so his lips touched my ear and whispered, “And here’s another warning for you. Do not think this trip is for you to get whatyouwant. With every blouse, every dress, every piece of lingerie you try on, you will think about me, and whether I’d approve or not. You will think of nothing but me and my cock the entire fucking time.” He dragged his tongue along the curve of my ear, causing me to shiver. “Pun very much intended.”

Without letting go of my arm, he pulled back and led me across the deck, through a door behind the bar. We continued down a hall, and the smell of food filled my nostrils. There was a second dining room with a twelve-seat dining set, and a white corner couch with a large television set against the adjacent wall. The billiard table was placed across the room, and the bar counter with a clear glass fridge behind it made me wonder if this was the real entertainment area. I wondered what type of parties were held here, the kind of orgies that took place on those couches. Was Anette part of it? The day she and her father arrived here, it sure looked like she knew her way around the yacht.

God, the thought alone made my skin crawl. Not even Saint’s tight grip around my elbow could divert my attention off the disturbing thought.

I heard the hinges of the door Saint opened, and we walked out the back, sun beaming down on us once again. As he stepped to the side, the helicopter greeted us with its impressive black features against the blue of the ocean in the background. James and Elena were already there waiting.

“Sir.” James nodded toward Saint and stood to the side as he opened the door.

Saint held my hand and helped as I stepped on the footplate and climbed inside. Excitement bubbled as I took a seat on one of the beige leather seats, Saint sitting down beside me. Our little dispute five minutes ago was forgotten as I took in everything around me, unsettled nerves slithering in my belly. “I’ve never been in a helicopter before.”

He leaned over me, so close I could smell the earthy scent of his cologne and see the dark shades of his five o’clock shadow that dusted his chiseled jaw. My belly went into overdrive as my insides did a thousand summersaults. The sleeves of his pinstriped suit jacket brushed against my arm and sent a jolt of energy across my skin. Instantly parched, I licked my lips, and his gaze cut to the movement. He stilled with the seatbelt in hand, his eyes settled on my mouth. The world disappeared, and it was just us in that split second. Us, and the intense sexual tension that threatened to snap our self-control.

Saint was first to break the moment and pulled both belts of the harness over my shoulders and clipped it together, securing me in my seat.

“Here, put this on.” He handed me a pair of aviation headphones.

I smirked at him as he put his headset on, and he slanted a brow.

---