Page 9 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

“There’s my Russo wife.” I smiled and pulled her close, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

The limo came to a stop, and I leaned to the door just as James opened it. As I stepped out, I straightened my dress shirt sleeves, glancing around the underground area before leaning down and extending my hand to Mila.

James didn’t even seem to notice that she was wearing my suit jacket, but Mila’s discomfort was evident. The woman was wearing a jacket three sizes too big for her. Her clothing and underwear were torn, and I could only imagine the remnants of her orgasm still coating the insides of her thighs.

“Mrs. Russo.” I held out my arm, and she eloquently linked her hand in the crook of my elbow. “I cannot wait to show you our new home.”

4

Mila

A rollercoaster.That was what my life was like. The twists and turns kept coming from out of nowhere, and it was only a matter of time before one would stop trusting the peace of a smooth ride, expecting it to be over at any second. I was there in that place with Saint—where I kept expecting shit to happen that would derail any moment of solace with him.

I was a fighter, yes. And Saint had made it clear on so many occasions that it was my fight, my strength he admired the most. But when he gave me that fake sense of control in the back seat of the limo, it felt wrong. Good…but wrong. That wasn’t how our dynamic worked. In a screwed-up relationship like ours, it wasn’t fucking normal. And there was that split second after my body exploded into fragments of pleasure that I realized no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that we could have normal together…we couldn’t. It wasn’t who we were. I needed to stop wanting normal. To stop thinking what we were together would be sunshine and fucking unicorns, because it wouldn’t. It would never be a smooth ride with Saint, and there would always be twists and turns. And while I straddled him on the back seat, my pleasure twisted into anger because he thought me a fool. Pretended to have given me control when, in fact, he hadn’t. Saint would never give up control. Ever. I had been on the receiving end of his dominance enough times to know that. So, I wanted him to see even though our journey together started with him demanding and forcefully taking control, that too had changed. Now, I chose to give it to him…not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

Saint led me into the building, and if I wasn’t so distracted by the fact that I had to wear his jacket to cover my torn clothes, the apex of my thighs still wet with sin, I’d probably take note of my surroundings more. But everything was a blur around me until we stepped into the elevator with James. His tall frame and broad shoulders towered in front of us like a shield of protection.

The elevator moved, and nostalgia set it. I leaned closer to Saint. “I don’t think taking an elevator will ever be as simple as it was before you.”

He clutched my hand between his body and elbow. “Just as my life will never be as simple as it once was…before you.”

I placed my head against his arm, craving the comfort of his warmth. “I’m exhausted.”

“You had a rough ride on our way here.”

I nudged into his side. “Not funny.”

He snickered as the elevator door opened. James stood to the side, allowing Saint and me to exist first.

My heels clicked on oak floors, and as always, Saint’s expensive taste left me in awe. Pure white walls complimented the high ceiling apartment with a seamlessly open layout. Several windows facing all four directions welcomed the night sky, the cool-white recessed lighting creating a calm atmosphere that settled on the modern furniture.

“Wow.” I gazed around. “This is…different.”

Saint paused. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, I do. I do like it. It’s good different.” I walked to the spiral staircase and placed my hands on the cold wrought iron. “It’s just so chic and modern. Compared to your estate in Italy, it’s a complete contradiction.”

Saint shrugged and placed his hands in his pants pockets as he studied the open space. “I figured since you’re a New Yorker, modern chic rather than Italian Renaissance would be more your style.” His eyes found mine. “But if you don’t like it, I’ll find something more to your liking.”

“No, I love it.”

“We can have a new apartment by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Saint,” I approached him and placed a hand on his chest, “it’s perfect. Really.”

He took my chin between his fingers and stared down at me. “All I want to do is give you the best of everything, yet I feel as if nothing I’m capable of doing will be good enough for you.”

“I’m not one of the rich socialites you’ve dated in the past, Saint. I’ve lived in poverty long enough to know that I don’t need money to be happy. I just need you. Us.”

He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. “I have all the money in the world, yet my most priceless possession is the one thing I can’t buy.”

“As long as you know it can’t be bought and only nurtured, that priceless possession of yours should have everything she needs.”

I took his hand and placed a kiss in his palm, then turned to look around us. “But this apartment is pretty awesome.”

“Wait until you see our private deck on the roof.”

“Oh, wow. I can’t wait to see it.”

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