Page 47 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

The spiral staircaseleading down to the living room made me dizzy. The last couple of days, I had struggled with a little queasiness. It was hardly worth labeling as morning sickness. Just the occasional lightheadedness, and the early morning nausea the doctor warned me about.

“I told her because she’s my wife, and I want to make it work.”

I stilled when I heard Saint’s voice coming from the dining room.

“I know you love her, Marcello. I witnessed you two fall in love right before my very eyes. And by God, you know I have been rooting for you to realize just how perfect you are for each other since this all started.”

“Then what is the problem, Elena?”

I quietly moved up two steps so I wouldn’t be seen while I eavesdropped on what sounded like a heated conversation.

“I read the cards last night.”

“Oh, my God,” Saint sighed, exasperated. “Not the fucking cards again.”

“Yes, thefuckingcards. And you know which card was revealed to me?”

“I really don’t want to know.” I heard heavy footsteps which sounded like Saint’s.

“It was the Tower, Marcello.”

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?”

Elena’s heels clicked across the floors as she followed him down the hall.

“When I pulled that card, I saw Mila. I saw her face so clearly, it was like she was right there with me.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed hard.

“Stop with the damn cards, Aunt Elena.”

“You shouldn’t have told her, Marcello. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need the added burden of your past laid on her shoulders.”

“She’s my wife!” Saint’s voice boomed through the apartment, and I sucked in a breath as his anger slammed against my chest. “She is my wife,” he repeated more calmly. “She has a right to know. If there’s any chance of us making this marriage work, I need to be honest with her.”

“Honesty is a noble quality. But Mila has only been a part of this family for a few months. She doesn’t know our past the way we do.”

“What are you saying?”

Yes, Elena. What are you trying to say?

“She doesn’t believe you, Marcello. She sees your father as the man who saved her from her brother, and not as the man who was responsible for your mother’s death.”

Oh, my God. How could she?

There was a deafening silence, and I wished I could have seen Saint’s face. See his expression so I knew what he was thinking. There was no sound, and I started to think maybe they had walked away. And just as I readied to go down the stairs, I heard Saint’s voice.

“I love you, Aunt Elena. I owe you more than I can ever repay. But I think you need to take that trip to South Africa, take some time to yourself. And I suggest you do it soon.”

His words were followed by heavy footsteps, and my heart cracked for Elena. Even though I wasn’t entirely sure of her intentions during their conversation, I did know she loved Saint as a son, and it had to be incredibly hard for her to let him go. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. There was more to her not wanting me to know the reasons behind the rift between Saint and his father.

I carefully sat down on the stairs, my thoughts running wild. This goddamn missing puzzle piece was going to drive me crazy, and my instincts were screaming at me that there was so much more to this story than I was told. And now after this conflict with Elena, odds were Saint wouldn’t open this topic up for discussion again any time soon. She made it sound like he was doing me a great injustice by sharing the pain of his past with me…which was bullshit. I handled Saint at his worst. I could definitely handle him at his most vulnerable.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Viktor walk past one of the pillars to the foyer. There was only one way for me to find that missing puzzle piece, and as much as I hated it, I had to do it. If I didn’t it, would gnaw away at my bones and I would never rest.

I stood and moved down the stairs when I was sure Elena and Saint weren’t nearby. “Viktor,” I called and followed him into the foyer.

“Yes, Mrs. Russo.”

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