Page 6 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“What?” Raphael jumped to his feet. “We had a deal.”

“Indeed, we had. But without Mila’s ten percent, that deal is no longer on the table.” He gave me a pointed stare. “Unless, of course, we can prove Mila was coerced into marrying my son and giving him her shares. That way, she will regain her shares, and we can negotiate a new deal. All three of us.”

The tension in the room was like a rubber band about to snap at any second. Frustration rolled off Raphael, and arrogance radiated from Mr. Russo, and all the while I sat right in the middle of it. I was back in that goddamn boardroom with Saint and his father, hoarding all the heightened emotions. Again, I felt like running with an overwhelming need to escape.

“We already have all the documents we need to sort out this entire mess with my son.” Mr. Russo snapped his fingers, and one of the men who stood behind him laid a briefcase on the dining table to our left. The lock latch snapped as he opened his briefcase, followed by the scratching noise of papers. A lot of fucking papers. A pen was shoved into my hand, and the man oddly reminded me of a robot. No emotion. No expression. Just business. Artificial intelligence created to assist the wealthy in becoming even wealthier.

I held my hand in front of my mouth and cleared my throat. “You seem real convinced Saint forced me to marry him.”

“Did he not?” Mr. Russo challenged. Even though it was the truth, I found it odd that he made this correct assumption right off the bat.

In a bid to regain some self-assurance, I took a sip of vodka and crossed my legs while forcing my shoulders to square with confidence. Men like Mr. Russo thrived on intimidating others, it was easy to see. It made me determined not to give him any reason to think he unsettled me.

“Mr. Russo, you are making quite the assumption by thinking I’d share my personal matters with you, a man I don’t even know. And you are quite sure about the fact that even if I did give you a statement regarding my marriage to your son, I’ll be willing to sell my ten percent shares to you.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile that reminded you of kindness and compassion. It was as cold as the Arctic sea, and as deadly as the darkness below it. “Let’s be honest, here, shall we?” He shifted to the edge of his seat, elbows placed on his knees. “You’re in a strange country and caught in the middle of a family feud that has been raging for years. You are a pawn in my son’s game, nothing more. You’ve lived your entire life off other people’s scraps and welfare, so go on and tell me you don’t have a price.” He leaned forward, menace painted over every line on his face. “Everyone has a price, Mila. Some are just a little greedier than others. But you, I don’t think you’ll be too greedy since you’ve known nothing but poverty. So, give me your price.”

I’d be lying if I said he didn’t intimidate me in the slightest. But I wasn’t about to cower in my seat and wish for the Earth to swallow me up. “You’re right,” I stated. “I have lived a poverty-stricken life. I know what it’s like to have nothing but your dignity. And that is my price, Mr. Russo.” I got to my feet. “My dignity. And not even you possess the kind of wealth to afford that.”

His smile turned into a malicious grin, a smirk that could crack through the walls of hell. “You’ve only been a Torres for three seconds, and already you think you have what it takes to go against me? That has always been the problem with your family—your pride.”

“I can’t speak for a family I’ve never known. I’ve only been in your presence for three minutes, and already I know there is no way in hell I’ll give you my ten percent shares. And not for any other reason but the mere fact that you want it so badly.”

He shot to his feet, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing like the fiery pits of Hades. “Do not take me on, little girl.”

I raised my chin. “As you put it, I’m stuck in the middle of all this, and I don’t give a crap about whatever is going on between you and your son. But I’ll be damned if I allow any of you to drag me deeper into this shit-fest. The farther I get away from all of you, the better.”

“Then give me what I want, and we’ll be out of your hair for good.”

I let out a laugh. “Oh, my God. That’s all I’ve been hearing ever since this fucking nightmare started. ‘Give me what I want.’ You two sound so much alike, it’s uncanny.”

“Mila, stop,” Raphael warned. “This has gone far enough.”

Without even blinking, I kept my glare pinned on the old man in front of me. Suddenly, the expensive suit he wore did nothing to hide the ugliness of a greedy son of a bitch.

Mr. Russo maintained a blank expression. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a day or two to think about it.” He glanced at Raphael. “Until she’s made a decision, our deal is off the table.”

Without sparing me a final glance, he stomped out of the suite, his little robots following him like worker bees flying after their queen. When he opened the door, I spotted two more men standing outside like guard dogs drooling for a fight. This entire situation had blown up into something bigger than I ever could have anticipated. And now that I was away from Saint, confronted by the man who seemed to be the root cause of Saint’s questionable acts, I was no longer sure whether running from him was the best decision I’d made so far.

The door slammed shut, and Raphael wasted no time in confronting me. “What the hell did you just do?”

I spun to face him. “I pissed off an old man with a shitty attitude, that’s what I did.”

“Do you have any idea how rich that old man is?”

“I don’t care.” I grabbed my glass and emptied it, the vodka burning as it settled in my stomach.

“Well, I do. You could have named your price, and he would have paid it.”

“Like I said, I’m not for sale.”

“Yet you had your price for marrying Saint.”

If it wasn’t for the fact that I just discovered a few hours ago the young man in front of me was my brother, I would have slapped him in the face. “You don’t know anything about what happened between Saint and me.”

“But you don’t deny it?”

“Deny what?”

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