The Sins of Saint: A Dark Romance Novel Read online

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Other Novels by Bella J

  About the Author

  Copyright ©2020 by Bella J

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual living or dead person, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Editor: Lori Whitwam

  Cover Design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  Formatting: Pink Elephant Designs

  Author’s Note

  To each and every one of you who fell hopelessly in love with Saint and Mila…

  Thank you for loving these characters as much as I do.

  “We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love.”

  Sigmund Freud.

  1

  Saint

  I didn’t have to look at her to know what was on her mind. She had been thinking about it since the moment we set foot on the plane. I noticed how she bit her bottom lip, her teeth nipping at the flesh as she fought the need to ask the question that had burned her tongue for hours. I was surprised she had lasted this long. But the second we landed in New York, the uncertainty and fear had gotten the better of her.

  “Where will we be staying?”

  I got up and shrugged into my suit jacket. “Don’t worry, Mila.”

  “Are you…” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “Are we going to—”

  “You know,” I leaned down and placed my hands on either side of her, cocooning her in and crowding her by bringing my face inches from hers, “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. It would be fucking biblical if our story had gone full circle by returning to the place where it all began.” I stroked a finger down her jaw. “Problem is, I’m trying not to be a dick. And to take you back to the hotel where I killed your so-called friend and kidnapped you without an ounce of remorse—now, that would make me a dick…wouldn’t it?”

  Her emerald stare was fixed on mine, a blatant refusal to show I intimidated her. But from the corner of my eye, I noticed the subtle movement of her hand, gently palming her stomach. It amazed me how we had just found out about her being pregnant, and her instinct to protect our unborn child had already jumped into gear.

  I watched as her plump, rosy lips parted. “Forgive me if I’m not foolish enough to put anything past you.”

  “You still don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question, yet her narrowed eyes gave me an answer. I smirked and pulled away, buttoning my suit jacket as I straightened. “To answer your question, no. We won’t be staying at the hotel where Brad’s blood has stained the carpet. Now, come.” I held out my hand to her. “We have a car waiting for us.”

  Her hand was warm and inviting as she placed it in my palm, her eyes never leaving mine. “Where are we staying?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Surely you know by now that I have a natural aversion to secrecy.” She shrugged. “And lies.”

  I broadened my shoulders and pinned her with my stare. “Walk, Mila.”

  “Fine,” she huffed and turned before making her way down the aisle toward the exit. For a moment, I allowed myself to appreciate her sleek, firm calves, which looked equally inviting in flat shoes as they did in heels. The short navy-blue romper she wore had the naked skin of her thighs teasing me the entire fucking flight as she crossed and uncrossed her legs multiple times. There was only one thing that stopped me from fucking her in the shower with her hands tied to the rings I had installed for just that purpose, and that was the life growing inside her. As much as I wanted to see her face as the rapture of pleasure and pain ripped her body to shreds, her being pregnant trumped every other feeling or desire I had. It was a motherfucking game-changer, and once again I found myself in uncharted waters with this woman. It was amazing how absolutely nothing went according to plan ever since she stepped off that goddamn elevator in sneakers and a Lakers t-shirt. Yet here I was, utterly consumed by her, and if I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

  Except one.

  One tiny little thing.

  A three-sentence clause in her biological father’s last will and testament.

  Something I should have shared with her the moment James discovered it. Something I can now no longer tell her because if I did, she’d run from me again, and there would be no amount of money or bullets that would let me find her this time. She’d make sure of it.

  I straightened the lapels of my jacket as determination settled in my squared shoulders. Losing her again along with my unborn child was not an option. It would be a cold day in hell with the Devil’s spine frozen to his throne before I’d allow anything to take them away from me.

  Mila cleared her throat. “Are you coming, or do you plan on staring at my ass until sunrise?”

  “Is that an option?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, and I cocked a brow. A mighty stare-off between lovers, the energy between us crackling with a desire as strong as a thirst that could never be quenched.

  I sauntered closer and abruptly reached out, snaking my arm around her waist and pulling her against me. The gasp that rolled from her lips ricocheted down my insides and compelled me to kiss her like she owned my last breath. The curves of her body fit perfectly against mine as if God created her just for me. And the way her taste exploded on my tongue, it was an array of flavors toxic to my self-control. Her moans, her whimpers, the brush of her fingers as she weaved it through the hair at the back of my neck, it all blended into the perfect bait for the beast clawing at my insides, famished for the woman trapped within my arms.

  She tore her lips from mine, and this time it was my groan slicing through the silence. “It’s not fair.” She bit her lip. “It’s like God anointed you with this supernatural talent to be a dick yet still end up having women spread their legs for you.”

  I grinned. “Is that what you want to do right now? Spread your legs for me?”

  She scoffed and pushed against my chest, smiling. “You’re an asshole.”

  “See, now, that makes me think you’re the one blessed with a superpower.”

  She flipped her curls over her shoulder. “Yeah, and why is that?”

  “Because I’ve buried every single person who has called me an asshole to my face, yet here you are.” I captured her gaze with mine. “Still breathing.”

  For a fleeting moment, fear flashed within her emerald irises, but it passed just as quickly as it appeared. “I’m no longer scared of you, Saint.”

  I lifted a hand and touched her chin. “You sure that’s wise?”

  “No. Not being scared of you will probably be the worst mistake I’ll ever make.”

  I cocked a brow in question, but she merely dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “I’m exhausted. Can you please take me home…wherever that might be?”

  I wasn’t known for my a
bility to let go of conversations I didn’t feel were concluded or hadn’t gone my way. But I could see the dark shadows of exhaustion on her pretty face, and all I wanted to do was take care of her. It amazed me how I made a complete one-eighty when it came to this woman who had managed to become my drug of choice. The woman who was supposed to be nothing but a signature. A weapon in my arsenal against my father.

  It was just past midnight, our arrival hidden within the darkness, our movement cast under the dim light of the full moon. I took her hand, and without saying a word, we exited the plane and walked toward the limousine waiting for us.

  “A limo?” She looked at me in question with just a sliver of a grin on her perfect face.

  “You’ve flown halfway across the world in my private plane, lived on my luxury yacht for months, and traveled to Milan in my helicopter to partake in some well-deserved retail therapy.” I shrugged. “So, I thought a drive in a luxury limousine would be a great way for New York to welcome you back.”

  The smile on her face was priceless. As a man who had been surrounded by wealth all his life, I could confidently say this woman’s smile was worth more than any riches.

  James closed the door as Mila and I slipped into the back seat of the limousine, then took his place behind the steering wheel and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Tribeca?”

  I nodded. “The Powell Building, Hudson Street.”

  James started the limousine, and the privacy screen rolled up. Within seconds, it seemed like we were worlds apart from James.

  Mila cut her gaze to me in surprise. “Tribeca?”

  I grinned. “I take it you’re familiar with our destination.”

  “Familiar in the sense that I’ve heard how the rich love flaunting their wealth in lavish luxury apartments while their personal chauffeurs and bodyguards drive them around.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “You own an apartment there?”

  “Recently purchased, yes.”

  She frowned. “How recently?”

  “Recently as in…yesterday.”

  Mila shifted in her seat. “You purchased a million-dollar apartment yesterday without even viewing it first?”

  “First,” I held up my hand, “it’s a five-million-dollar apartment. Second…yes, I bought it yesterday. And third, it is a small world thanks to the world wide web. Ninety-nine percent of the property I own was purchased from an online viewing alone.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How rich are you, exactly?”

  “How many zeroes can your mind fathom without getting knotted?”

  “Look at that,” she sneered with sarcasm.. “He’s rich and funny. I should count myself lucky.”

  I smiled. “Indeed, you should.”

  She tugged leisurely at the ends of her curls hanging over her shoulder. “I’ve only ever been there once. It was a quick drive-through with some friends, hoping we’d catch a glimpse of some of the A-listers who live there.”

  “And did you?”

  A hint of a smile curved at the corner of her mouth, which smothered the look of exhaustion on her face. “No. But it sure made me realize how easy one’s life could be when fate was on your side.”

  I squeezed her hand as sympathy made my heart swell inside my chest. “You were born for riches, Mila. You’ve been done a great injustice by not living the life you deserved.”

  She looked down at where our fingers weaved together. “Just because I was born to a wealthy family doesn’t mean I deserved a life on the streets any less than those people currently sleeping with empty stomachs.”

  I touched her chin and eased closer to her so our eyes could meet. “Your heart is pure, Mila. It’s beautiful—admirable, even.” I placed my thumb on her bottom lip. “But in the world we currently live in, your heart will be the weight that pulls you under, and you will drown.”

  “Funny,” she leaned closer, lips lightly parted, “here I thought you’d be the storm I’d eventually drown in.”

  I slipped my hand around her throat, her pulse racing against my fingertips. “What a beautiful demise it would be, my wife immersed within the elixir of my obsession.”

  Her warm breath brushed against my cheek. “Only you can do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Describe my demise as this beautiful act of love. A death desired by all women around the world.”

  I stifled a laugh and looked at her with a grin. “It’s a talent.”

  “No, it’s a curse.” She slanted a brow and leaned back in the seat, turning her head so she could stare out the window. “I must admit, I didn’t think I’d ever see New York again.”

  “And I’d be a liar if I said I had been planning on your return to this city, or even this continent.”

  “Everything has changed, hasn’t it, Saint?”

  I settled into the leather seat as I too stared out the passenger side window at the city lights that passed in one big blur. “It has. Question is,” I turned to face her, “if we had the chance to do anything differently, would we?”

  Her emerald eyes locked on to mine. “I never would have stepped into that elevator.”

  “I never would have said all those things to you the day you ran from me the first time.”

  She stared at me questioningly. “Out of all the things you did, that’s what you’d change?”

  I shrugged. “It was the only time I spoke words I didn’t mean.”

  “Yet you’ve said so many hurtful things to me.”

  “Of which I meant every word,” I straightened my jacket sleeves, “except the ones I scorned you with two seconds before you ran from me.”

  I was a proud man. It was about the only thing my father and I had in common. Russo pride. I had lost count of how many lives I had taken because of actions that reflected negatively on the pride that pulsated through my veins. So, for me to sit there and admit I had said hurtful things to her which held no merit was a small gesture, a tiny glimpse of the immeasurable change this woman had brought forth in me. Mila was right; everything had changed.

  Including me.

  2

  Mila

  I couldn’t keep my eyes open. The exhaustion set in so heavily I could feel it in the soles of my feet. On our flight to New York, I tried to get some shut-eye, but my racing thoughts kept me from powering off—from flipping the switch so I could rest.

  The dynamic between Saint and me had changed. It shifted. I no longer saw the man who killed Brad in cold blood. I saw the man who killed my brother so he could save me. A powerful man who would happily carry the blood of others on his hands if it meant keeping me safe. How was that for irony? The same man who didn’t think twice in doing me harm in order to get what he wanted was now the man who would maim and murder to keep me out of harm’s way.

  I glanced at him, the power he exuded practically pinning me to my seat. His confidence was his armor, the steel that both protected and intimidated. Marcello Saint Russo was a force to be reckoned with, an enemy you didn’t want to go up against, and an ally you wouldn’t dare to cross.

  Whether it was he who changed, or I who now looked at him in a completely different way—he was no longer the man I married with tears in my eyes and fear in my heart. But the drastic change didn’t appease me because now I had no idea what to expect. I believed him when he said he loved me. It was there in his eyes, the way his crystal blue irises beamed with something light and pure when he looked at me. But the darkness was still there swirling in the corners, a looming threat that would force its way out from under the shadows and destroy everything in its path. That was the part that scared me most, wondering if I—I clutched my stomach—if we would be collateral damage once Saint’s darkness decided it had been suppressed for long enough.

  “A penny for your thoughts.” Saint brushed the back of his hand down my cheek, and I closed my eyes, loving the way his touch no longer made me quake in fear but rather shiver with anticipation.

  “I’m just excited
to see the apartment.”

  He gripped my chin and forced me to look up. “Your eyes.”

  “What about them?”

  “Somehow it changes when you lie. The color, it fades. Loses its radiance.”

  “Why would I lie about something as futile as my random thoughts?”

  He placed his lips against the corner of my mouth, and I held my breath with parted lips. “Because you still don’t trust me.” His voice was nothing but a rasp, his thumb stroking across my bottom lip. “And now that you’re carrying my child in your belly, your maternal instincts have intensified that distrust.”

  “Don’t be absurd. In my mind, I’ve only been pregnant for two days. There’s nothing maternal going on in my thoughts.”

  “Then why have you been clutching your belly ever since we boarded the plane?” His eyes studied me, scrutinized my every feature. “Am I still a threat to you?”

  I swallowed hard and felt his palm against my throat. Our eyes were locked, my thoughts hollow and body frozen within a moment where time stood still.

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “Even after everything that’s happened, I’m still not sure what your intentions are with me.”

  The blue depth of his eyes remained calm as he stared down at me, and like so many times before, it gave me no clue as to what he was thinking—not an inkling of what thoughts ran through his mind. It was both unnerving and riveting at the same time.

  Seconds passed. Or was it minutes? Hours? While his stare entranced me, I lost all sense of time along with my inhibitions. And look where it got me. Trapped in a forced marriage and knocked up.