The Fall of Sin

by Bella J

  “What gave us away?”

  “Your accent. Especially your husband’s. He’s American?”

  Alessia nodded. “When we received Saint’s invitation to the gala, we decided to make a vacation out of it.”

  “Make hay while the sun shines.”

  She snickered. “Exactly. You know, it’s so nice to finally see Saint settle down. Although we were surprised to find out he had gotten married and hadn’t turned it into a lavish affair.” She waved around the room. “As we can all see, Saint loves his expensive gatherings.”

  “Yeah. That he does.” I took a sip of champagne, and I wasn’t sure whether it was running into Anete or the reminder of a disastrous wedding night that had the champagne tasting bitter on my tongue.

  I put the glass down on the table. “Do you perhaps know where the ladies’ room is? I need to powder my nose.”

  “Of course. It’s through the door on the right of the stage where the orchestra is.”

  “Thank you.”

  I made my way through the crowd. I just needed a few minutes where there wasn’t someone trying to shake my hand or kiss my cheeks. A few moments to breathe.

  “Milana.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of the familiar voice. “Raphael.” I turned to face him but was taken aback by his appearance. His hair was disheveled and dark circles framed his eyes.

  He walked up and kissed my cheek, the potent smell of rich bourbon wafting from his breath. “You look radiant, sister.”

  “Thank you. You look—”

  “Like shit. I know.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to that. My only instinct was to play it down. “You shouldn’t work so hard, little brother. Everyone needs a vacation every now and then.”

  “Oh, I had this unbelievable tropical vacation planned…until your husband ruined the biggest business deal of my life.” The hostility in his voice sent a chill down my spine, and my first instinct was to walk away—which I tried to do when Raphael grabbed my arm.

  “Mila, wait.”

  I glared down at where he touched me. “Let go of me.”

  Immediately, he let go and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just hard when you have all these future plans, then suddenly have it ripped from right under you.”

  “Listen, Raphael, I get that you’re disappointed at not finalizing the deal with Mr. Russo. What I don’t understand is why it’s such a big deal. You still own shares in the company. You’re still banking from the business. It’s not like you lost everything.”

  “I told you, I’m not a businessman.”

  “Then improvise. When life gives you lemons, make goddamn lemonade.”

  “Is that what life on the streets taught you?” The look in his eyes was cold, hard, cruel—a reflection of what he had just said.

  “Fuck you, Raphael.”

  I turned on my heel and walked in the other direction when he called after me. “Mom’s here.”

  Just like that, the world around me came to a screeching halt. The sound of the orchestra’s music was gone along with the buzz of voices and the clinking of glasses.

  I glanced halfway over my shoulder. “What?”

  “She’s here.”

  “You mean here, at the gala?”

  “No. She’s in her hotel room. Mom doesn’t do well with crowds, but she asked to come, knowing you’d be here. She wants to meet you, Mila.”

  I stepped closer. “Which hotel room?”

  “Meet me by the elevators in half an hour, then I’ll take you to her. I’ll introduce you to our mother. And if you’re smart, you won’t tell your husband.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can guarantee he’ll try to stop you. Think about it, Mila. Why hasn’t he offered to take you to your mother yet?”

  He turned and walked away, the sea of people swallowing him. My feet were too heavy, the little girl who used to cry herself to sleep thinking of her mom stopping me from moving. Every emotion any orphan could feel torpedoed through me, almost knocking me to the ground.

  Rejection.

  Loneliness.

  Heartache.

  Lost.

  It was all coming back to the surface while I stood there in an expensive dress and high heels, surrounded by hundreds of people—all the fucking riches any orphan could ever dream of. But it did nothing to ward off the nasty feelings from which my childhood nightmares stemmed.

  “Mrs. Russo.”

  I turned toward James’s voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I turned to face him, and he seemed unsettled.

  “Let’s get you back to Mr. Russo.”

  “I’m just going to the ladies’. I won’t be long.” Hastily, I brushed past him, relieved James didn’t see me with Raphael. Saint hated my brother with a passion. I knew if I had to tell him about Raphael wanting to take me to my mom, he’d stop me. Make it impossible for me to finally meet my mother—not that I had made up my mind yet. There was something off with Raphael tonight, my instinct screaming at me to be careful. That alone had me hesitating to trust him, and rather do as my husband had told me. To trust him and stay at his side.

  I walked into the ladies’ room only to find Anete standing there, dragging her pink lipstick around her lips.

  “Murphy, you motherfucker,” I mumbled to myself before straightening.

  Anete glanced at me in the mirror. “I must say, Mila, red is most definitely your color.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  In a bid to ignore the blonde, I busied myself tucking a few curls back into place.

  “Vera Wang.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me?”

  Anete turned my way. “Your dress. Vera Wang?”

  “Prada.”

  She flipped a blonde strand out of her face, her smile fake and eyes malignant. “Oh, there is a Prada boutique in Milan you simply have to go to.”

  “I know. That’s where I got the dress. Saint took me there.”

  Her expression fell. “Well, aren’t you a lucky lady.”

  “I guess I am.” Silently I prayed for this woman to just move the fuck along since I was not in the mood to spar with her. Not now. I just had too many things on my mind.

  She placed her hand on her hip. “I suppose you stayed at the Hotel Principe di Savoia.”

  Ugh. The words rolled effortlessly from her lips where I could hardly pronounce any of it.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, we did.”

  She feigned a dreamy look and stared up at the ceiling. “One of Milan’s most luxurious hotels. Every inch of that building is exquisite. It’s what dreams are made of.”

  I sighed. “Yes. It’s really a beautiful hotel.”

  “And the presidential suite? Oh, my God, it’s stunning. I remember the night Saint and I spent in their presidential suite after he simply whisked me away in his helicopter to Milan on a whim.”

  My heart stopped, and my lungs no longer expanded as I watched Anete’s lips move yet didn’t hear a word she said. My capability to listen stopped after she said she had spent a night with Saint in the presidential suite.

  I asked him. I specifically asked him if he ever entertained another woman in that hotel suite. If he had spent a night in that bed with someone else. The bed he had me tied to. The bed we fucked in. I had trusted him to answer me truthfully as he said he would.

  “Mila?” Anete snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Are you okay? You spaced out there for a second.”

  “Um,” my mind was a maze of incoherent thoughts, and it took me a moment to find the words, “so, you spent a night at the hotel with Saint?”

  She smirked and shrugged her bony shoulders. “Of course. Saint loved spoiling me with unplanned trips and showered me with expensive gifts. We had a special connection, Saint and I. We still do.”

  A thousand pieces of glass sliced the insides of my stomach, my chest shattered and aching as if a wrecking bal
l had slammed into it. I couldn’t breathe, my legs weak as I stumbled back and grabbed the edge of the counter.

  “Oh, my God, Mila. Don’t look so shocked.”

  I frowned, but words eluded me as Anete watched me with toxic irises and deadly intentions.

  Her plush pink lips curved up in a wicked grin that could kill. “Oh, Mila. Did you think you were special simply because he married you? Everyone knows it was just to get his greedy hands on your shares.”

  “What?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “My father is his lawyer, remember. He knows about Saint’s business dealings, including the shares of the long-lost Torres girl. It didn’t take me long to put two and two together. Torres Shipping is the sole reason he married you. I know it. You know it. He knows it.”

  “Screw you, Anete.”

  She inched closer with a thousand threats burning in her eyes. “Saint is a god, Mila. A god who loves being worshipped by naked women and willing cunts. Do not think for one moment that your marriage to him is anything but a facade, a ploy for him to get what he wants. Once he’s done with you, he’ll cast you aside and fuck every woman capable of spreading her legs.”

  Rage rushed through my veins, aggravated by a surge in adrenaline. I slapped her, the loud crack of my palm against her cheek echoing off the walls.

  Her head shot to the side, blonde hair falling over her face. My pulse raced and chest rose rapidly as I struggled to breathe through the anger.

  Anete glanced up with wild eyes, her cheek tainted with my handprint. “You fucking bitch.”

  “Stay away from me, Anete,” I warned. “And stay away from my husband.”

  “He’ll never stay true to you. He bores easily and loves getting his cock sucked too much.” Fire burned in her eyes as she glared. “He came down my throat so many times, I’ve lost count. And here’s the thing,” she seethed, “when Saint comes crawling back to me for a good fuck—and he will—I’ll only need ten goddamn minutes to make him forget all about you.”

  I wanted to plant my fist in her throat, but the longer I stood there, the more it started to hurt. Her words and his lies…and my stupidity.

  Tears threatened to break free, and I rushed out, refusing to break down in front of Anete.

  “You’re a fool, Mila,” she shouted after me. “A fucking fool.”

  The door lurched open as I stormed out, the soothing sound of the orchestra’s music nothing but noise as it clashed with the thump of my beating heart. The sea of people seemed to close in on me, the crystal prisms now a blinding light as tears slipped freely down my cheek.

  Saint stood by the bar still talking to Antonio with James flanking him. While I stared at Saint for what seemed like an eternity, all I saw was a lie. Deception. And how I had been blind and stupid for thinking a man like him could ever fall for a woman like me. Anete was right. Saint was a god, and I’d never be good enough for him.

  Every corner of my soul throbbed in agony, and I took a step back. Then another. And another.

  All the unfamiliar faces and extravagant trimmings taunted me. I didn’t belong here. Did I really think it would be as easy as putting on a designer dress and walking at the side of one of Italy’s most powerful men? That I’d be able to go from orphan to queen?

  Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

  My heel knocked against the stairs, and I almost stumbled to the ground before running up the steps, like Cinderella before the clock struck midnight. Just like Cinderella, I didn’t belong there. I didn’t belong at the ball with the Prince.

  The farther I rushed up the stairs, the more desperate I became to get away. My heels clicked over marble floors, but as I reached the exit, I heard someone call my name.

  “Mila?”

  Raphael stood by the elevator, and just like the day I ran from Saint, away from him and his father’s war, my brother was there once again.

  “Come on,” he urged. “Mom’s waiting.”

  I closed my eyes as tears tore from my soul, the thought of my mother and how I’d longed to know her all my life shaking me to my core.

  I glanced back at the entrance to the hall, part of me hoping Saint would come walking out, maybe try to stop me from running again. Maybe even tell me what Anete had said was a lie—that she was the liar, not him. But the other part of me, the less naive part, knew the real liar was me. I had been lying to myself thinking I could fit into this world of power and greed—where only the richest survived. A world I would be strong enough to rule as Saint’s queen. It was all lies I told myself so I could finally find a place I would fit in. A place I belonged.

  I was wrong, and now I no longer trusted my own judgement. It had failed me one too many times.

  “Why do I keep on finding you running from your husband?”

  I turned to face Raphael. “Because I’m foolish.”

  “No. I don’t think it’s that.” He rested his hands on my shoulders and shot me a sympathetic look. “Your husband is the foolish one for allowing you to get away.” He wiped at a lingering tear. “At least some good can come from tonight. A lost girl finally being reunited with her mother.”

  “Does she really want to see me, Raphael?”

  “She does, Mila.”

  “Why has she waited so long? Surely she knew I was here in Italy weeks ago?”

  Raphael stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m to blame there. Like I told you before, she still hasn’t recovered from losing our father. I didn’t want to upset her.”

  “And knowing about me would upset her?”

  “No. Not in the way you think. She gave you up, Mila. I just wasn’t sure if she was ready to face what was probably the biggest mistake of her life.”

  As much as I would have loved to blame someone for keeping me from my mother, Raphael’s reasoning made sense. If I had been in his shoes, I’d be wary too, and would do anything to protect my mother from hurt.

  He draped an arm around my shoulder and slowly guided me, one small step at a time, toward the elevator. “Come on, our mother is waiting.”

  The elevator door opened, and Raphael got in. For a single heartbeat, I was frozen, and every event of the last few weeks flashed before my eyes. All the emotion I experienced crushed my every bone, and as I lifted my foot to take that final step, I hesitated.

  “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” I whispered and slipped the shoes from my feet, throwing them to the ground.

  I took a deep breath and finally managed to step into the elevator. Raphael smiled. Steel doors sealed shut. And there I was…once again watching the lights flash as the elevator ascended to the unknown.

  We went all the way up to the top floor, and my bare feet hit the plush carpet when I stepped out of the elevator.

  “Here.” Raphael pointed to a dark mahogany door on the left. “She’s in there.” He wiped his fingers down the side of his mouth and glanced up and down the hall before reaching for the key card from his jacket. “You ready?”

  I lifted my chin and braved a weak smile as I nodded. Nights. Months. Years I’d waited and dreamed of this moment. There were so many questions I’d thought about asking her the day I’d finally meet her. Yet here I was, and all I wanted was for her to put her arms around me. To hold me. To brush her fingers through my hair and tell me everything was going to be okay.

  Raphael swiped the card, and the red light turned green. The door unlocked, and he pushed it open, waiting for me to walk in first.

  My palms were sweaty, and my heart beat a staccato rhythm against my ribs. One would think I’d want to rush inside to see her, but the nerves that rang like bells in my belly had me taking one hesitant step after the other.

  The suite was dimly lit, the air stuffy as if it hadn’t had fresh air in days. The door shut, and I looked back at Raphael who was two steps behind me.

  The fabric of my dress dragged along the carpet without the height of my shoes, and the farther I walked into the suite, the more unease se
ttled on my shoulders. Something wasn’t right. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned. “Raph—”

  Everything went black.

  20

  Saint

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  I stormed into the ladies’ room, the door crashing against the tiled wall. Women squealed and gasped while I seethed.

  “Mila!” My voice was a goddamn sonic boom against the walls and mirrors. “Mila!”

  “Saint?” Anete came walking in. “What’s going on?”

  “Not now, Anete. Mila!” I went from one bathroom stall to the other, kicking the fucking doors down.

  “She’s not in here, Saint.”

  I stilled and snapped my glare to her. “How do you know?”

  “Because she was in here about ten minutes ago but left.”

  I narrowed my eyes when I noticed a red streak that tainted her left cheek. “What happened to your face, Anete?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She touched her face. “Just some uncoordinated waiter who wasn’t looking where he was going.”

  I stalked forward, noticing how her gaze settled anywhere but on me. I’d known Anete for a long time, had my cock sucked by that lying mouth on many occasions. The woman was vindictive, manipulative, and had no shame when it came to getting what she wanted. But one thing she could never do was lie to me. She had this tell-tale sign of diverting her eyes and flipping her hair like the mother of all divas whenever she was on the verge of getting caught in a lie.

  “Anete, what. The fuck. Happened. To your face?” I was no more than three inches from her motherfucking face and piling on the pressure while glaring down at her.

  She avoided eye contact and flipped her hair. “Fine. Your wife and I had words, and for no reason she went all ghetto and slapped me. I’m telling you, Saint, you need to keep that one on a leash.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  Anete recoiled. “That is not the point, Saint. The woman assaulted me for no—”

  I grabbed her shoulders and forced her against the wall, her tiny frame and fragile bones seconds from being crushed in my grasp. “Do not fuck with me, Anete. What did you say to her?”