Page 26 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

“Jesus, Saint.” I exhaled, perspiration beading at the back of my neck. “How am I supposed to remain sane around you when you keep sending me on this rollercoaster that never fucking stops, and then—”

“Mila—”

“You expect me to—”

“Mila, stop.”

He sauntered closer, those deceptively calm blue irises pinned on me as if his stare alone could keep me frozen to the spot. “I’m going to say this in the simplest way possible, and I’m only going to say it once. So listen carefully.”

I swallowed.

“Yes, I told you to leave. Yes, I kept the clause of the five percent in your father’s will a secret from you. Yes, it crossed my mind that maybe getting you pregnant could work in my favor.”

My chest tightened.

“But I give you my word, even though I thought about it, I have never—not once—fucked you with the intention of getting you pregnant. Never.”

The sharp edge of his conviction left no place for doubt. Every shade of color in his eyes beamed with verity, which made it hard for me to not believe the words that just poured from his mouth.

He pointed to the postnuptial agreement. “This is my way of proving to you that you are not just some signature on a piece of paper anymore. You are not just another pawn in my quest to ruin my father. You have become so much more than that.” He inched closer, and my insides tightened. “I love you, Milana Katarina Torres. And even if you decide to walk out that motherfucking door, I will keep loving you till the devil takes my last breath from me.”

My heart hiccupped, and I found myself at a loss for words.

He picked up the unopened file and held it out to me. “But even though I am the man who will love you with every breath I take, I am also the man who will spill blood for you without even fucking blinking.”

His irises swam with pure resolve, and with every step he moved closer toward me, I took a step back.

I lightly shook my head. “I still don’t understand.”

“In this file, you will see exactly to what extent I will go in order to give you what you need.”

I took the file from him, the paper burning my fingertips with the scorching fire of uncertainty. Fear, panic…curiosity.

He leaned his head to the side. “In this case, what you need is blood,” he glanced at the file in my hand, “which is exactly what I have given you.”

Warning bells sounded all around me, my hands numb and unable to look inside the devil’s dossier in fear that whatever was inside it would turn the cracks between us into craters that would swallow us whole.

“I’d rather not.” I held the file toward him, but he didn’t blink as he kept my gaze.

“Open it, Mila.”

“No.”

“I said…open it.” He bit out his words with subtle warning as he came closer, so close I could smell his familiar, earthy scent, and I felt my body respond to him in ways that were not appropriate, considering the conversation we were having.

For what felt like seconds, minutes, hours, days, we were in a deadlock. I didn’t want to know what remained buried within the pages, while he was determined to enlighten me.

The longer we stood there holding each other’s gaze, the more I felt my resolve dissipate. Curiosity grew, my fingers hovering at the edge of the file.

His gaze implored me to do as I was told, and no matter how easily I could defy him—it was in circumstances like these that I felt it hard to ignore my need to obey.

I flipped the page without looking at it, the intense look on Saint’s face holding my focus hostage.

“Look,” he ordered. “Look at the images.”

It was one of those moments when one knew not to look because what you were about to see could never be unseen or erased. Like the night Saint murdered Brad in cold blood, how I tried to keep my eyes shut but failed. Now it was an image I could never unsee. An image I still saw in my nightmares sometimes…along with the fresh images of my brother’s corpse.

But just like that night at the hotel when our journey had started, curiosity got the better of me…so I opened the file.

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