Page 65 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

It was Saint’s dad. I immediately recognized Mr. Russo’s voice.

“Are you in there, Raphael?”

Raphael held his finger in front of his lips, warning me to stay quiet.

“Listen, son. I just heard Marcello’s new wife is missing. If, by any chance, you have the girl, I’d love to renegotiate our deal.”

I held my breath as Raphael slowly stalked toward the door and leaned against it. “I’m listening.”

“Do you have the girl?” Mr. Russo demanded through the door.

“First, tell me about this deal you’d like to renegotiate.”

“This girl is worth more to me than those shares of yours, Raphael. If you have her, you’ve accomplished something even I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“Outsmarting my son so I can get my hands on the Torres girl. Now, do you have her or not? Because my willingness to renegotiate is diminishing by the second.”

Raphael kept his cruel eyes pinned on me, and I saw the way the wheels turned inside his evil head. But I didn’t know which was the lesser evil. My brother with a gun, or the fact that Mr. Russo sounded really desperate to get his hands on me.

With every beat of my heart, it became increasingly hard to breathe as I watched Raphael’s hand turn the lock and open the door.

“Come on in, Mr. Russo.” Raphael gestured for him to walk inside. “Let’s talk business.”

I inched back the farther Mr. Russo walked into the suite, his presence heavy and overwhelming.

“Mila,” Elena’s voice came from the room. “Mila, are you okay?”

Mr. Russo glanced from me to Raphael. “Is that—”

“Yeah.” Raphael closed the door. “Your son’s aunt tried to fuck up my plan by snooping.”

Mr. Russo looked at me in question. “Is Elena in that room?”

“Yes. And she’s hurt. She needs to get to a hospital,” I pleaded.

“Oh, come on,” Raphael whined. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Mr. Russo looked at me, but there something different in his eyes. Different from the last time I saw him.

“Fine.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and leisurely took a seat on the couch. “Let’s talk business, and let’s be quick.” He crossed his legs. “I want the girl. You want money. I’m willing to give you twenty percent less of what your shares are worth, for both your sister and your shares.”

“What?” Raphael’s brows almost touched his hairline. “You see this gun, right?”

Mr. Russo nodded. “I do.”

“You know Marcello’s aunt is bleeding out in that room?”

“I thought it was just a flesh wound?” Challenge painted his every word, and Raphael frowned.

“You think you’re in a position to negotiate here?”

Mr. Russo spread his arms across the back of the couch. “I’m always in a position to negotiate, Raphael. The girl and your shares for twenty percent less than my original offer.”

My legs were shaking uncontrollably as adrenaline started to crash. I swayed then caught my balance against the wall—the movement triggering Raphael to aim the gun at me again.

Mr. Russo didn’t even blink at the fact that Raphael was swinging a weapon around like a fucking toy.

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