By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers #3)(3)

“That’s a consolation,” I said, letting the snark I usually only showed Leonas come through. If Santino didn’t bother being polite, I wouldn’t either.

At first, his disinterest in me and his lack of conversation had bothered me but eventually I’d learned how to get a reaction out of him, any kind of reaction really. It became my favorite pastime to annoy Santino until he couldn’t ignore my existence anymore.





I sat on the grass and dragged the pencil over the paper. The late afternoon sun warmed my back.

It had taken me hours to convince Santino to take me out into nature so I could draw something else than the inside of our house or backyard. He’d eventually taken me to a park close to home and ever since acted as if I was air.

I slanted another look at him. He stood a few steps to my right with his arms crossed as he surveyed our surroundings. Anyone with half a mind would have known he was my bodyguard.

I scratched the pencil over the paper as I tried to get the sharp line of his jaw and the foreboding scowl right. Santino had been my favorite model for a while now, of course, he didn’t know. I could imagine what he’d say if he knew all our trips to different locations had been pointless because it was always him that I drew. Sometimes I took liberty with his clothes and changed them to attire from another century to get my creative juices flowing. Today I picked a cowboy hat and cowboy boots for his outfit.

His eyes cut to me and as usual, the harsh glint in them sent a pleasant shiver down my back. Nobody else made me feel this way, definitely not the childish boys at my age.

People wanted to please me. I didn’t have trouble winning people over to my side, but my social skills were completely useless against Santino’s stubbornness. He wanted to hate the job and thus dislike me, and wouldn’t allow himself to feel differently.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew my crush on Santino was completely ridiculous for various reasons, the main one him being ten years older than me. Still, I sometimes dreamed about how it would be once I was older.

I returned my focus back to my drawing, shading the cowboy breeches. Lost in my thoughts, I realized too late when a shadow fell over me. My head shot up to find Santino glaring down at me and my drawing of him.

“You shouldn’t draw me,” he growled, ripping the paper from my clipboard.

“You have a very prominent jaw. It’s an appealing object,” I said.

I could see Santino thought I was out of my mind. “And why the hell did you make me look like a cowboy?”

I shrugged. “It’s getting boring to draw you in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket all the time.”

Santino shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and tore my drawing apart.

“Hey!” I shouted as I jumped up and tried to rip the remains of my work from his hands. It was futile. Santino simply blocked me with his side and calmly crumpled the paper pieces into a tiny ball. “Don’t draw me, Anna. If I have to answer to your father because he finds drawings of me in your room, I’ll be pissed.”

“And how’s that different from your usual mood?” I asked haughtily. “You’re practically Grumpy Cat in mobster form.”

Santino only stared me down but I was used to his dark expression, and stubbornly stared back. “We’ll return home now and you’ll hand over all of your drawings of me, understood?”

“Understood.”





Back at home, Santino followed me into my room like a thunderous shadow and watched as I opened the upper drawer of my desk, where I kept most of my drawings of Santino. I handed him about two dozen drawings. He browsed them, shaking his head occasionally, and one time his brows rose very high. I assumed it was the drawing of him in the wardrobe of Louis XIV.

He leveled his eyes on me and narrowed them. “There are more.”

I made an innocent face.

Santino pointed at the drawing at the top of the pile. “This isn’t as good and detailed as the drawing I saw today. That means you’ve made progress since then and because you’re such a little overachiever, you’ll keep your best drawings separately to admire them.”

I flushed and for the briefest moment, my gaze flitted to my nightstand. Santino staggered toward it and tried to open the drawer but it was locked. I didn’t want Leonas to get blackmailing material on me. Santino felt under the bed and then smirked. My mouth fell open when he pulled out the little key that I’d taped to the underside of my bed frame and opened the drawer.

“That’s private!” I hissed, but he’d already picked up a stack of fifteen drawings of him. The one at the top showed Santino holding hands with my adult self. I’d used a computer app to age me and then drawn myself beside Santino.

I really hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. The stare he gave me crushed my hope. “What’s this?”

I swallowed and shrugged.

“I know this is supposed to be you, Anna. I recognize you, not to mention the ridiculous checkered Chanel costume no one else under the age of seventy would wear.”

“Chanel is fashion, no matter the age,” I said indignantly.

“You won’t draw me ever again, understood? This is my last warning.”

He stalked out, not waiting for my reply.

Embarrassment still warmed my cheeks and I was on the verge of an angry cry when I realized something: Santino had paid enough attention to my drawings to notice the differences in my progress over the last few months.