By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers #3)(43)

He looked back at the TV. I got up with a shrug. “Then I’ll just get myself off without your help, like I did in the shower.”

I turned, not waiting for his reply, and went into my room, not bothering to close the door. “You know where to find me if you find your courage.”

Steps rang out behind me and then Santino grabbed me by the shoulders and whirled me around so I was facing him.

He glowered down at me. “What is it you really want, Anna? For me to lose control? My mind? My job? My life?”

His voice was harsh and low, stroking the fire in my belly.

He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. He was everything I wanted. “I want you to lose control.”

Santino growled and shoved away from me, taking two steps back. Without another word, he stormed out of my room and threw the door shut.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, listening to the furious beating of my heart. My golden cage allowed me few pleasures, even fewer thrills. But provoking Santino always breathed life into me.





The next few days, I gave Santino some room and focused on my schedule. The first introductory courses were about to begin and I wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. I also signed up for an additional sewing course. I had already taken sewing lessons with our maid in the months leading up to my move to Paris, but I was still far from good. I knew I needed to get better if I wanted to get a good understanding of how clothes were made. How could you be a good designer without being able to sew a piece of clothing yourself?

Santino worked out in his room while I stayed in mine. Eventually, we headed out on foot to go to a secondhand shop that also sold sewing machines to people who wanted to upcycle items.

“My mother used to sew,” Santino said when we picked up an older model that still required plenty of handy work.

Surprise washed through me. He rarely talked about family, and if he did it was about his dad. I wasn’t sure what to say, completely caught off guard. I’d have thought he’d keep his silence for a few more days to punish me for my teasing. “It’s a handy skill.”

Santino nodded simply and silence descended on us once more as he carried the heavy machine while we strolled back home. As we waited on the sidewalk for the pedestrian lights to turn green, a group of nuns came our way. I stepped back with a small smile. Santino, however, let the nuns pass with a hostile expression as if they’d personally offended him.

“What’s your problem with nuns?” I asked as we finally crossed the street. The sidewalk here was narrow so Santino and I had to walk arm against arm, which felt nice. Santino had stopped walking a few steps behind me since we were alone in Paris anyway. It felt less and less like a working relationship.

“I don’t have a problem with nuns,” he said nonchalantly. Whom was he trying to fool? I’d known him for years and seen him at his worst and best, mostly worst though.

I knew when he was lying.

I made a face that made it blatantly clear I didn’t believe him. “Right. Did you hit on a nun and she refused your advances?”

That was something I could imagine vividly. Santino was the type to do so, just for fun.

Disgust skimmed his lips. “Why would I hit on a nun?”

“The thrill of the hunt and the forbidden? Just out of spite? Or maybe even boredom?”

“Since you entered my life, boredom is the least of my problems.”

I flashed him a cocky grin. “Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“It sure sounded like one. I take it.”

Santino shook his head but I could tell he was fighting a smile. I really wished he would let it win more often. The sun had been shining all day, and it almost felt like spring. Considering how cold it had been a few days before, this caught me completely off guard. “Let’s head into the park and soak up the sunshine for a bit.”

Santino nodded and together we headed toward the lawn at the base of the Eiffel Tower. To my surprise, we weren’t the only people. Several people had put down blankets and sat on the grass, drinking wine and chatting.

“Let’s do the same.”

“We don’t have a blanket.”

I motioned at one of the street vendors that sold everything from small corny Eiffel Towers, over fake Cartier watches and MCM umbrellas, to blankets with the Louis Vuitton logo. Santino went over to the man and bargained for almost ten minutes until we got the blanket for half the price and an umbrella for free. We settled on the blanket. The ground was still cold, not yet warmed from the sun but I didn’t mind. I just wanted to enjoy the sun on my skin even if my butt froze off.

“It could be worse,” I murmured. “Most people would kill for your job.”

Santino sank down beside me. “Today has been one of my better work days.”

I chuckled and lay back on my back, loving the sight of the Eiffel Tower rising above us with the sun peeking out behind it. The thing with the nuns wouldn’t leave my mind though. There was a story to be told. I could feel it.

I rolled over on my belly, pushed up on my elbows and propped my chin up on Santino’s thigh.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low, tense voice. He’d straightened his back, ready to spring, and I could feel his thigh muscles flex under my chin.

“Chill. I’m only getting comfortable. I won’t ravish you in the middle of a park.”