Page 37 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

“If my mother divorced him, he would have looked like a fool.”

I let go of him and took a step back. “If that’s true, then why were you willing to let me walk out on you?”

“Because for some reason I want to try to be a better man when it comes to you.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes heavy with pain. “Doesn’t mean I’m succeeding, though. Besides, I refuse to be my father. Ever since I forced you to marry me, my intention was for us to get divorced once I’ve accomplished what I had set out to do.”

“Ruin your father.”

He nodded. “But as you’ve said before…things changed.”

“They sure have. But, Saint, how sure are you that your father was behind your mother’s death?”

“As sure as the sun rises in the east.”

I crossed my arms as a thought entered my head. Saint immediately picked up on it.

“What is it?”

I couldn’t say it.

“Mila. What are you thinking?”

I craned my neck and looked up at the dark sky, stars glimmering in the clear night. “I’ve seen you kill two men in front of me. And those pictures you showed me today—”

“You want to know why I haven’t killed my father?”

My lack in response was the only answer he needed, and I felt like the worst goddamn person in the world for wondering why my husband hadn’t killed his father yet.

Saint didn’t move. He merely stared at me, his eyes etched on mine, his expression stone. “If I thought him dying would be punishment enough, I would have done it a long time ago. But he deserves to live with what he’s done. He deserves to go to bed at night knowing his only son, his only child, hates him more than anything in this ugly fucking world we live in.” Saint inched closer with nothing but sheer determination in his eyes. “He knows I’ll always find a way to ruin everything for him, which means he’ll constantly be looking over his shoulders for me. Wondering what I’ll do next.”

There was no mistaking the disdain that laced his words. I could practically feel the hate radiate off him.

“He took my mother from me, Mila. Then he allowed everyone to think she was crazy, that she was this unstable woman who took the coward’s way out by taking her own life. Death would have been too merciful.”

“Saint—”

“You see? You see how fucked I am? I’ve built my entire life on my hate for him. I have all this wealth, more money than I know what to do with, yet I enjoy nothing. Nothing.” He bit out every word. “I don’t find joy in anything other than my father’s misery.” He stilled and narrowed his eyes. “That was…until you. Until I heard the heartbeat of my child.”

And that was when it hit me. That was the moment it all made sense to me. “That’s why you wanted me to leave.”

Saint didn’t respond. He didn’t have to because I already knew I was right.

I took a step closer and reached for his hand, wanting to touch him while I looked him in the eye. “You wanted me to leave because for the first time since your mother died, you feel something other than hate. Something other than this grief you’ve allowed to consume you all these years.” I palmed his cheek, and a single tear trickled down his face as his stone expression started to crack. “For the first time, you feel something…beautiful.”

He placed his hand over mine and leaned into my touch. “Happiness was never something I pursued, Mila. I’ve never allowed myself to dream of a life where I could wake up in the morning and not feel this hate that constantly squeezes life from my bones. And now,” he laced his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, “now I wake up in the mornings thinking of you, wondering if I’ll ever be deserving of you. I walk around with this constant fear that one day you’ll realize that you deserve so much better than me.”

“I love you, Saint.”

“You say that, but how could you? How could you love me after everything I’ve done? I hurt you. I used you. I turned your life into—”

“I’m here,” I interrupted. “I’m right here…with you. And yes, you have hurt me. You did use me. But I’m still here because as we’ve said so many times before…everything changed, including you.” I stood up on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m here because the mere thought of being anywhere else scares me too much.”

“Being with me should scare you.”

“It does. Loving you does scare me.” I placed a hand on my belly. “Being a mother to our baby scares me. The thought of where I’ll be next week, next month, next year, it scares me. But I’ve been scared my entire life, lived with fear every day…until I chose for it not to control me.”

“That’s different, Mila.” He turned his back on me, our connection severed, and I hated it the moment it happened. “It’s completely different.” He pulled both hands through his hair, letting out a low growl before glancing at me over his shoulder. “You’ve known fear your whole life. The only time I’ve ever experienced fear was the night James and I broke down my mother’s bedroom door.” He turned to face me. “It was the worst night of my life, and I never felt fear like that again. I had too much hate to feel anything else. And now,” he took two strides and stood so close to me we were merely a breath apart, “now I fear losing you. I fear losing this baby, and it’s driving me insane. I hate it, Mila.” He cupped my cheeks in his palms, his eyes wide and expression pained. “I hate the fear of losing you more than I hate him. I love you so much, it consumes me every minute of every day.” His gaze slipped from mine and moved down my body as his hands traveled over my shoulders and eased down my arms. “And the more I have you, the more I want you. You’re like a drug to me. Deep down, I know you’ll be my undoing, but I can’t stop wanting more of you.”

It was like a switch—his eyes, going from pain to hunger, his touch from adoring to sensuous.

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