Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(24)

Raphael didn’t know she was about to become a nun, pledge herself to the church. He saw a woman, not a bride of Christ. Father Quinn was her superior; it was her duty to obey him. And she trusted him. She wouldn’t tell Raphael anything of the priests who were only trying to do God’s work.

Raphael came further forward. Maria could see the outline of tattoos under his white shirt. The material was thin and betrayed the many artful black lines. She couldn’t make out what the design was. He placed his hands on the arms of the chair. She smelled his scent—fresh water and salt. It shouldn’t have been attractive to her. It was. She shouldn’t have found him attractive, period, but she did. Humans were imperfect, and often did and felt things that they shouldn’t. But this man was evil wrapped up in a beautiful package. Every exquisite feature he boasted was a mask for the wretchedness that prowled underneath. Maria prayed there was a hint of good that remained hidden deep. She prayed that she could appeal to that good.

“I want to know your name. I want to help you. I don’t want to hurt you.” His golden eyes narrowed, half threat, half plea. “Don’t force me to hurt you. Things won’t go well for you if you do.” Maria’s stomach flipped at the casually spoken warning. Raphael reached for the tape over her mouth. “Do you promise not to make a sound?” Maria nodded, knowing she had no other choice. She knew how quickly he could turn and didn’t want to risk it. She needed to keep this amiable Raphael on side. She didn’t want to meet the evil Raphael again—that moral-less man terrified her. Fear would keep her silent, if that was what he required, until she could work out a way to escape.

“Good girl.” Raphael smiled proudly and began to peel back the tape. Maria never took her eyes off him the entire time. The tape pulled at her skin, it hurt, but she didn’t even flinch. She didn’t want him to know what caused her pain in case he used it against her. When the tape was off, Maria inhaled a long breath. Raphael tensed, as if waiting for her to scream. She didn’t.

After a few seconds of observing her closely, Raphael sat back on the edge of the bed. “Are you thirsty?” She nodded. Raphael walked to a small fridge on a nearby cherry wood desk, took out a bottle of water, and unscrewed the lid. He carefully brought it to her mouth. Maria parted her lips, never taking her eyes off the killer as she drank down the refreshing mouthfuls. His pupils dilated as he watched her swallow, his gaze fixed on the subtle movement of her throat. She licked her lips after she was done. She didn’t understand her appeal to this man. Maria never paid much attention to looks; she had met beautiful people that were ugly on the inside. She knew she wasn’t overly pretty. In truth she was very plain. She didn’t rival Raphael in terms of beauty, but the way he watched her made her feel like a Florentine Renaissance masterpiece at which people flocked to galleries to marvel.

Raphael pulled the bottle away and took a seat. He leaned back on his hands, the action making the lean muscles in his arms flex. “What’s your name?”

She saw no sense in lying. “Maria,” she said quietly. Her voice was weak and hoarse from the bruising on her throat. “My name is Maria.” At least, that was the name she had chosen and been referred to by for years. It was too painful to remember the girl she was before.

“Maria,” Raphael echoed, her name rolling around his lush mouth. He smiled, revealing dimples that cut into his stubbled cheeks. Raphael leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “And why were you in the club last night? Do you expect me to believe it was because you went to play?”

“I was there to play,” she said, more confidently than she felt. She had vowed her silence to Father Murray and Father Quinn. She would not falter in that regard. She would not break the vow. She would die before she did. Maria had forgone her possessions when she entered the monastery. Her word was all she had in the world.

“Mmm . . .” Raphael pondered, crossing one leg over the other and running his hands over his face in wonderment. “Then it was your first time?”

Maria refused to allow her nerves to best her. She had a role to play. And play it she would. Father Quinn needed this man off the streets and locked away so he couldn’t hurt anyone again. Maria was confident Father Quinn would help Raphael, help him see the error of his ways. She prayed that if they were found by the priests, they could set Raphael on the path to redemption.

Everyone deserved the darkness to be lifted from their souls. Raphael was no different. Maria didn’t know what her future was now. But as she studied Raphael’s beautiful face, she wondered if she could help him. Be some semblance of light in his overcast world.

“It was my first time. I applied for the club. They thought a virgin might appeal to some of its more experienced members,” Maria said, sticking to the script she and Father Quinn had planned.

Raphael’s eyes flared and his lips parted. The movement was subtle, but Maria caught it. She had grown adept at seeing the smaller gestures people made. The little tells that indicated if someone would hurt her or not. She’d had no choice.

“You’re a virgin?” His voice was deep.

“Yes.” Maria hung her head. She wasn’t acting in her timidity. This was real.

Raphael leaned closer. “And what did you want from the club?” His head tipped to the side. He looked breathtakingly beautiful in this position, his long lashes framing his alluring eyes. Raphael’s beauty was sin personified. Maria almost revealed the truth of what he had asked her. She chastised herself for her weakness. For being drawn in by his pretty face and sensual voice. “You wanted to be tied down, strapped up . . . your pussy deflowered by a man in leather with a penchant for pain?” His words were crass, but his voice was silk. Sailing into her ears like an expensive black sheet caught in a cool breeze.