Page 53 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“I’m guessing that means something good.”

“It does. There’s just one thing missing.” He reached into his jacket pocket, and I watched with curiosity as he pulled out a square red box, Cartier printed in gold on the top.

“Saint. What is that?”

He opened the box, a beautiful diamond bracelet resting on black velvet.

“Oh, my God.” I sucked in a breath. “It’s exquisite.”

He removed it from the box, and I held my arm steady as he placed it in around my wrist. His fingers handled the delicate piece of jewelry with finesse as he fastened the clasp.

A single row of brilliant-cut diamonds set around the bracelet were embedded in gold. The fine lines of gold magnified the splendor of the stones, which shimmered like moonlight dancing across the ocean. It was elegant and refined without the bold appearance of overwhelming wealth.

I stared at the weightless armlet in awe. “I…I don’t know what to say other than I love it. It’s perfect.”

With a gentle tug, he pulled me close. “Youare perfect, Mila. Those diamonds don’t compare.”

His lips caressed mine with a tender kiss that reached deep inside my soul. It was a subtle act that robbed me of gravity, the ground beneath my feet no longer my anchor while his kiss entranced me. I had drifted so deeply into the moment a soft moan rolled from my tongue as he pulled away.

“Perfezione,” he whispered, and he took a step back.

I gasped and let out a laugh when he guided me in a twirl before pulling me back up against him. As I looked up at him, I couldn’t help but want to drown in the endless depths of his irises. It was so surreal, what I was feeling for him right at that very moment. I no longer saw the devil, but a man…a man who had stolen my heart.

He eased the back of his hand down my cheek. “This is how you should have looked at me on our wedding night. Without tears.”

“Say another sweet word, and you’ll see tears, I can promise you that.”

He shot me a handsome smile. “No tears tonight,principessa.”

“Not tonight.”

19

Mila

Saint tookmy hand as I climbed out of the limousine and stepped onto a white carpet that stretched all the way to the entrance of the building. Cameras flashed, the blinding light making it almost impossible to see. Reporters yelled out Saint’s name to get his attention, riotously shouting questions and remarks. It was like a scene from a Hollywood movie premiere, everyone wanting a piece of the main star. Marcello Saint Russo.

He shot me a sly grin. “Welcome to the jungle, Mila.”

“The daunting thing is you’re not even joking.” It was utter mayhem on the outsides of the red rope barriers that separated us from the vultures.

“Mr. Russo! Mr. Russo!”

“How is married life?”

“Where have you taken up residence?”

“Will your wife play an active part in your charity?”

“Mrs. Russo!”

“How does it feel to be married to the man who was once Italy’s most eligible bachelor?”

There was no way to see who was asking which question. It was all just voices and blank faces, and the only thing that kept me from getting lost in the sea of chaos was Saint’s hand clutching mine tightly.

James and three other men escorted us and Elena all the way to the entrance, and the second we walked through the arched doors, I let out a breath. “That was frightening.”

Saint pulled me close to his side. “Believe me, compared to the people we’ll be dining with tonight, those vultures out there are child’s play.”

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