Page 30 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

I sauntered down the hall barefoot, my heart and mind reeling with so many conflicting and confusing emotions.

Elena’s door was open, and she waved for me to enter. “Close the door, would you, love?” She placed her crutches against the chair that stood a few feet away from the bed.

I closed the door, and my gaze drifted across the room. It wasn’t much different than mine, apart from the size being slightly smaller.

Elena removed the gold chain from her neck and carefully placed it in the drawer of her bedside table. She too glanced around the room. “That’s one thing about these modern and expensive New York apartments. They all seem so…generic. Seen one, seen them all.”

I smiled. “It’s good to have you here, Elena.”

“Come sit with me.” She placed her palm on the silk sheets. “You seem in desperate need of some friendly therapy.”

“Is it that obvious?” I plopped down next to her.

“Well, there are the dark circles around your eyes.” She shrugged. “That, and the fact you were crying when I walked in, and it does not seem like you’ve stopped. So, either it’s the pregnancy wreaking havoc on your hormones, or my nephew screwed up again.”

“Maybe it’s a little of both?”

She scoffed. “Maybe. But my money is on Marcello behaving as he always does.”

“And how is that?”

“Like an asshole.”

We both snickered, and I could literally feel the tension ease from my muscles. “Have I said I’m glad you’re back yet?”

She winked. “More than once.”

“Well, I’ll say it again because it’s true. With Saint, everything is so intense. I have to remind myself just to breathe sometimes. But when you’re around…I dunno…it’s like I breathe easier.”

She nudged me with her shoulder, her expression soft. “It’s good to know I’ve been missed.”

“You’ve been missed a lot,” I replied. “I’m so sorry for what he did to you. Raphael…he could have—”

“Stop.” She grabbed my hand and held it tightly. “I’ll have none of that. It wasn’t your fault. Nothing about what happened was your fault.”

“But I—”

“Hush, Mila. It’s in the past. If there is anything I’ve learned during the years is that you can’t do anything to change the past. You can’t change what happened five years, five weeks, five minutes, or even five seconds ago. You will accomplish nothing by feeling guilt, or by worrying.”

“I know.” I glanced down at where her hand lovingly embraced mine. “It’s just hard to not let your past navigate your future.”

“It’s not that hard, Mila.” She leaned her head to the side and eased a finger through one of my stray curls that hung down the side of my face. “Just don’t let it affect your present. That way, it will have no power over your future.”

Elena was right. I knew that. It was the only way I had survived so many years of abuse—by not letting the past infiltrate my present so it could infect my future. It was a philosophy I easily adapted to while living on the streets. But it was incredibly hard to live by with Saint involved. He complicated everything.

“So, tell me. What did Marcello do this time?”

I sighed and flipped my hair over my shoulder. “He kept a secret from me.”

“I’m sure he’s keeping a lot of secrets from you. I mean, he’s Marcello.”

“I know that. But this secret,” I touched my belly, “it’s big. And it affects—”

“Your past, present, or future?” She chimed in.

“I’m not sure.”

Elena shifted on the mattress. “My guess it has something to do with that little one.” She pointed at my stomach then smiled. “The way you’re clutching your belly shows you are already protective of him, or her. What did he keep from you?”

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