Page 34 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

Saint took a seat on one of the plush couches, his arm stretched out along the back. “Mostly dresses.” His unblinking gaze swept down my body, hovered at my naked legs, then met my eyes. “Short.”

Maria pranced across the room, but not before I noticed her long lashes and green-eyed stare linger on Saint for a second too long. I wasn’t blind to Saint’s allure, or his sexual prowess. Women were drawn to him, attracted to him, unable to keep their eyes off him. I didn’t blame them. The man was the epitome of male perfection and demanded the attention of the female species without even fucking trying.

I crossed my arms as she pulled out one of the roll closets stacked with different summer dresses. “Any specific color?”

“Red.” Saint didn’t take his eyes off me.

I placed my hand on my hip and pursed my lips at him. “I’d like a few different options in regard to color.”

“Red dresses, Maria.” Saint disregarded my request without blinking.

“Well,” Maria searched through the dresses on the rack, “red is not exactly trending at the moment, but we do have one or two items you can try. Maybe we can look at some pinks, or how about this coral dress.” She held out a mini dress, and I watched as Saint rubbed his jaw, his forehead creased with annoyance.

“Did you not hear me correctly?” he growled. “I want red for my wife. Not pink. Not coral. Fucking red. Do you understand me now, Maria?”

The poor woman’s face ashened, and her shoulders suddenly slumped. I could feel her red-hot embarrassment from across the room.

“Of course, Mr. Saint. I will go look for any red dresses we might have in the store.” Maria hung the coral dress back on the rail and pulled a single red dress from among the rest. “In the meantime, here is one dress you can try on.”

“Thank you, Maria.” I tried giving her a warm smile to soften the blow of Saint’s hard reprimand. I watched as Maria walked to the door, absent of the confidence she exuded a minute ago.

“Maria,” Saint called out. “We’d also like to take a look at your latest range of lingerie.”

I balked, stilled, and turned to face him with what was probably a huge what-the-fuck look on my face while he sat there with a smug look on his.

“Of course, Mr. Saint.”

“Red. Not pink or coral. Blood red.”

Maria nodded and exited the room.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “A bit harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, feigning a look of innocence. “I merely requested to have a look at their lingerie.”

“I’m talking about how you snapped her goddamn head off over something as stupid as the color red.”

Saint stood and straightened his suit jacket as he stalked toward me. “I am the customer, Mila. And the price tags on these items give me the right to demand whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is red.”

I lifted my chin and looked up at him. “What about what I want?”

“What about it?”

“Is that of no concern, whether I want red or not?”

He licked his lips, his eyes those of a predator craving the hunt, absorbed by the chase. I had the strength to defy him, but whenever he so blatantly stalked me with lust raging in his eyes, I had no fight against the temptation he so expertly stirred.

With a gentle hand, he reached up and took my chin between his fingers. “You are my wife, Mila. Everything you do is solely to please me.” His words were liquid seduction, melting as it passed his lips. “And what you wear is no exception.”

His warm breath kissed my wet lips, his scent reminding me of how it felt to be surrounded by it, to have his smell cling to my skin.

I inhaled sharply when he let go of my chin and stepped back, his eyes narrowed. I turned on my heel and disappeared into the dressing stall, closing the thick velvet curtains. I had to take a few moments to remind myself to breathe and to shake the desire that threatened to turn my insides into nothing but embers of lust. As if Saint’s sexual ownership over me wasn’t enough, I had to try to process this new world around me. Never in my life had I been surrounded with so much buzz and hype, so many people living life in the fast line, and dressed like royalty. Being that I was from New York, that was saying a lot.

I slipped into the red nylon gabardine dress with a scoop neckline that dipped low between my breasts. It was short. Very short. The slight flare of the skirt and the matching belt accentuated my hips. And the look on Saint’s face as I stepped out was all the answer I needed regarding his obvious approval.

He smirked. “Like I said, red becomes you, Mila.”

“You know my entire wardrobe can’t consist of only red items.”

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