Page 12 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

With that, he pushed himself up and stepped back. I hated whenever he got this way—a powerhouse of hostility, especially after he had given me glimpses into the man who didn’t hide behind those stubborn walls he refused to tear down.

My heart beat wildly inside my chest while I held my breath, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth, how his poisonous words made me lose my nerve. I wasn’t the helpless victim anymore. I was his wife. I was carrying his child. So, I deserved more.

“Russo,” I called after him.

He turned to face me. “Excuse me?”

“Russo. My name is Milana Katarina Russo. Not Torres. And I am your wife. Remember that.”

For a second, he lingered, our gazes locked while the rest of the world faded to gray around us. No matter whether we were making love or fighting, the air around us was always palpable, crackling with the most intoxicating energy that just kept pulling us together. It was too strong to fight.

“Good night…Mrs. Russo.”

Saint turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him. It was safe to say we wouldn’t be spending the night in the same bed. Maybe that would be a good thing, to get some distance so our thoughts weren’t intoxicated by the sexual chemistry that possessed us within seconds whenever we were together.

5

Mila

It was cold,the gel the doctor squirted onto my stomach. I nervously clutched the edge of the pillowcase and stared up at the ceiling.

“You okay, Mrs. Russo?”

I glanced at the doctor, her smile warm and caring. “I’m fine. Just a little nervous.”

“That’s completely normal with your first pregnancy. Any history of illness I should know about?”

“None,” Saint answered on my behalf while towering behind the doctor as if he was waiting for her to make one wrong move.

“Any nausea? Dizzy spells?”

“I—”

“She had a dizzy spell last night.” Saint crossed his arms and widened his stance as he placed a finger on his lips, staring at the screen of the portable ultrasound machine like it was a nuclear fucking weapon.

I wasn’t the least surprised when Dr. Pritchard arrived with her suitcase full of doctor’s equipment, doing a house call instead of us going to a medical center like every other normal pregnant couple. With Saint, everything was to the extreme, paying top dollar for these kinds of favors from just about every goddamn person in the world.

Dr. Pritchard moved the probe around my lower belly, spreading the gel across my skin. “Dizziness and nausea are completely normal this early in a pregnancy. Try to eat something before you get out of bed to keep your blood sugar from dropping.”

I nodded, surprised Saint didn’t fucking nod for me since he had been talking for me ever since the doctor arrived.

“Okay,” Dr. Pritchard pointed to the screen, her chocolate colored hair neatly pinned behind her head, “so this black circle here is the amniotic fluid.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus on the black and white image. Saint moved in beside the doctor and sat on the mattress, trying to get a better look himself.

“And this little kidney-shaped form right here,” she pointed to the side of the screen, “this is the fetus.” She pressed a few buttons on the keypad. “Measuring just under one inch.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows to get a better look since all I saw was a snowy image with a black balloon and a tiny blip inside it. I didn’t see any baby. I didn’t see any feet or hands, legs or arms. Just a blip.

“I don’t…I can’t see it.”

“Right here,” she drew a curve with her finger on the screen, “this is your baby. And if you look closely, you’ll see what looks like a tiny line that’s pulsing up and down. That’s the baby’s heart beating.”

“A heartbeat?” Astonished, I looked at the doctor. “That’s his heart beating?”

“Or hers.” Dr. Pritchard smiled. “Here, let’s have a listen.”

I glanced at Saint, who seemed entranced as he stared at the screen. He didn’t move a muscle. It was like he wasn’t even breathing. The expression on his face was something I had never seen before—pained, almost saddened.

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