The Fall of Sin

by Bella J

  I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I was surprised at how smoothly the helicopter just lifted off the ground and floated away. The loud noise somewhat abated as we became airborne, and I was amazed at how easily I got used to the sensation of flying. I stared out the cabin window at the endless ocean of blue below us. The Empress grew farther and farther away until it was a mere white blip on the horizon.

  The bird’s eye view was breathtaking, and it was no longer nerves that compelled me to hold Saint’s hand, but rather sheer delight as we traded the ocean for land.

  “Genoa.”

  I looked at Saint.

  He smiled. “We’re flying over Genoa. Another half hour, and we’ll be in Milan.”

  I met his smile and gripped his hand tighter as I turned my attention to the world below us. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I had been this excited—elated, even. For the first time, I experienced a real appreciation for Saint’s wealth, grateful for this mind-blowing experience.

  For the remainder of the trip, we all sat in silence. I doubted Elena and Saint enjoyed it as much as I did, but I didn’t care. I was determined to soak in every second of it.

  I heard James’s voice through the headphones, but I was too mesmerized to listen. An open field of grass came into view, and we started to descend. James’s piloting expertise shined through with a smooth landing as we touched ground. The pulsating noise and vibration of rotor blades gradually subsided, and with a flick of his wrist Saint loosened my safety belt.

  “Welcome to Milan.” His grin was mild and entertaining, as if he appreciated my enthusiasm.

  Saint got out first and helped Elena step off the helicopter before reaching out for my hand, guiding me down the step. The rotor blades were slow to come to a halt, and a gust of wind forced my hair into my face as we rushed to get away from the noise, hand in hand.

  A black SUV awaited us, and James held the door open for Elena and me to climb into the back seat. Saint got in the front, and James slipped in behind the wheel.

  “Security in place?”

  “Yes, sir,” James confirmed. “I have eyes and ears all around the area where we’re headed.”

  It unsettled me a little, wondering why we needed a protection detail on a simple shopping trip, but I didn’t let it take away from the thrill of it all.

  Elena smiled my way. “You are going to love Milan. It’s a magnetic point for designers and artists. People all around the world flock here to experience its glamor, and today it’s your turn.”

  I grinned like the damn Cheshire cat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited.”

  “Excitement is a good look on you, Mila.” She took my hand. “And you are going to love the Hotel we’ll be staying in. Hotel Principe di Savoia.”

  “Wow. That sounds…hard to pronounce.”

  Elena laughed. “Hotel Principe di Savoia is one of the most prestigious hotels in Milan and is a favorite choice of royals and celebrities. Naturally, it is also the only hotel Marcello stays in whenever he visits Milan.”

  Intrigued, I shifted in my seat. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Oh, Mila. You are going to love it, and the presidential suite is magnifico. It has three en suite bedrooms and a luxurious Pompeii styled swimming pool.”

  My eyes widened. “A swimming pool? In a hotel suite?”

  “Indeed.”

  I noticed Saint glance over his shoulder as he eavesdropped on our conversation, then turned to James. “Inform the hotel we’ll be arriving soon.”

  “We still have some daylight, Marcello.” Elena tidied up a few strands of hair which had slipped out of place. “I am absolutely giddy to take Mila to Corso Vittorio Emanuele.”

  I leaned over to her. “What is that?” I whispered.

  “The most popular shopping street in Milan.” The expression on her face was nothing short of amusement and zeal. It was contagious, and even though fashion labels and designers had never interested me before, I was about to jump out of my skin.

  As we drove down the streets of Milan, I tried to take it all in. There were so many people walking around, chatting on their phones, rushing in all different directions. Men were dressed in expensive suits and designer sunglasses. Women were dressed to kill in high heels, skirts, and blouses. It seemed like fashion was the currency of this city.

  James parked the car, and Elena and I waited until our passenger side doors opened. Saint held his hand out to me, but the way his head turned from left to right I knew the eyes hidden behind Ray-Ban sunglasses were scanning the crowds around us. With squared shoulders in a pinstriped suit, smooth skin peeking from under his open-collar white dress shirt, his strong posture was meant to intimidate. Confidence oozed out of his pores, a threat to every man in the vicinity, but an aphrodisiac to women who passed us with their lingering stares and parted lips as they unashamedly eyed him with desire. It irked me, the fact that they didn’t even realize I was there right next to him…until it occurred to me. If I wanted them to see me at his side, I had to make damn sure I was unmissable.

  Elena hooked her arm into mine as if we had been friends our entire lives. “Prada. That will be our first stop.”

  Overwhelmed with the rich scenery, the buzzing of so many beautiful people around me, I followed Elena blindly. The bold, aromatic smell of coffee drifted in the air, and the appetizing scent of freshly baked bread followed. Old buildings were complimented by travertine and marble, surrounded by beautiful columns modeled on Renaissance architecture.

  Police sirens echoed from afar. The buzz of people talking loudly and the sharp honk of cars all sounded at once. It was overwhelming, yet mesmerizing at the same time.

  Saint remained at my side, and James followed not too far behind. The building we entered was old, yet a piece of art. Stone and golds decorated the multi-floor building. The designer name had been gold-plated on the windows, and yellow lights illuminated every item in the store. I had no idea where I wanted to look first, or where to start. Luckily, Elena knew her way around. “This store has been here since 1913 and remains one of the most striking boutiques in the city. The monochrome flooring and green interiors are the brand’s way of retaining its historic features.” She held her arms wide. “Which is why it is one of my favorite stores. It stays true to itself no matter how the world changes around it.”

  An impeccably dressed salesclerk wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse approached us and greeted Elena by name. “Welcome back,” she said with a smile on her face. “It’s been awhile since we saw you around here.”

  “Ah, Maria. It has been too long. Luckily, my nephew, here,” she pointed at Saint, and then to me, “decided it was time to show his wife the glamorous fashion Milan has to offer. Of course, we just had to come here first.”

  Maria turned to me and held out her hand. “Mrs. Saint. It’s good to meet you.” I glanced at Saint, and he smirked. It was the first time I was referred to as Mrs. Saint rather than Russo. “It’s good to meet you too, Maria.”

  She flipped her dark curls over her shoulder. “Is there anything specific I can help you with today?”

  “I…um…” I glanced at Elena for help, and she quickly stepped in with her buoyant personality.

  “Maria, we would like to see everything today. Mrs. Saint is not exactly sure what she is looking for, so if you could show us your newest line, that would be superb.”

  “Of course,” Maria smiled. “Let’s move to the dressing room at the back of the boutique. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Dom Pérignon 2002 Plénitude 2,” Saint replied dryly as if ordering champagne at a fashion house was as normal as ordering a salmon skin roll at a sushi bar.

  Being surrounded by glamour and fashion and the robust scent of wealth that clung to the air was intimidating. Maybe because I knew I didn’t belong there. No matter the price tag of my shoes, or the designer label on the clothes I wore, it still didn’t give me a sense of belonging among all the riches.
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  We followed the salesclerk through a double, floor to ceiling door and entered a fitting area that was ten times the size of my room back in New York.

  Luxury couches decorated with velvet scatter cushions stood in the center of the room. The decor matched that of the store, tones of green and vintage chic welcoming us.

  While I took in the surroundings, I noticed Saint lean close to James as they spoke confidentially. James left the room, and Saint turned toward me and Elena, his hands leisurely tucked into the pants pockets. “Aunt Elena, I think Mila and I can take it from here.”

  Elena’s face mirrored the surprise I felt. “Marcello, you don’t have to—”

  “Aunt Elena,” Saint approached us, “Mila and I will take it from here. I’m sure Maria will give us all the help we need.”

  Elena twirled on her heels and smiled in my direction. “I won’t be far in case you need my help.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly and watched Elena exit the room.

  “So,” Maria handed us each a glass of champagne, “you would like to see our latest summer collection?”

  My cheeks flushed. “Just a few items will be great.”

  Saint took a seat on one of the plush couches, his arm stretched out along the back. “Mostly dresses.” His unblinking gaze swept down my body, hovered at my naked legs, then met my eyes. “Short.”

  Maria pranced across the room, but not before I noticed her long lashes and green-eyed stare linger on Saint for a second too long. I wasn’t blind to Saint’s allure, or his sexual prowess. Women were drawn to him, attracted to him, unable to keep their eyes off him. I didn’t blame them. The man was the epitome of male perfection and demanded the attention of the female species without even fucking trying.

  I crossed my arms as she pulled out one of the roll closets stacked with different summer dresses. “Any specific color?”

  “Red.” Saint didn’t take his eyes off me.

  I placed my hand on my hip and pursed my lips at him. “I’d like a few different options in regard to color.”

  “Red dresses, Maria.” Saint disregarded my request without blinking.

  “Well,” Maria searched through the dresses on the rack, “red is not exactly trending at the moment, but we do have one or two items you can try. Maybe we can look at some pinks, or how about this coral dress.” She held out a mini dress, and I watched as Saint rubbed his jaw, his forehead creased with annoyance.

  “Did you not hear me correctly?” he growled. “I want red for my wife. Not pink. Not coral. Fucking red. Do you understand me now, Maria?”

  The poor woman’s face ashened, and her shoulders suddenly slumped. I could feel her red-hot embarrassment from across the room.

  “Of course, Mr. Saint. I will go look for any red dresses we might have in the store.” Maria hung the coral dress back on the rail and pulled a single red dress from among the rest. “In the meantime, here is one dress you can try on.”

  “Thank you, Maria.” I tried giving her a warm smile to soften the blow of Saint’s hard reprimand. I watched as Maria walked to the door, absent of the confidence she exuded a minute ago.

  “Maria,” Saint called out. “We’d also like to take a look at your latest range of lingerie.”

  I balked, stilled, and turned to face him with what was probably a huge what-the-fuck look on my face while he sat there with a smug look on his.

  “Of course, Mr. Saint.”

  “Red. Not pink or coral. Blood red.”

  Maria nodded and exited the room.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “A bit harsh, don’t you think?”

  He shrugged, feigning a look of innocence. “I merely requested to have a look at their lingerie.”

  “I’m talking about how you snapped her goddamn head off over something as stupid as the color red.”

  Saint stood and straightened his suit jacket as he stalked toward me. “I am the customer, Mila. And the price tags on these items give me the right to demand whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is red.”

  I lifted my chin and looked up at him. “What about what I want?”

  “What about it?”

  “Is that of no concern, whether I want red or not?”

  He licked his lips, his eyes those of a predator craving the hunt, absorbed by the chase. I had the strength to defy him, but whenever he so blatantly stalked me with lust raging in his eyes, I had no fight against the temptation he so expertly stirred.

  With a gentle hand, he reached up and took my chin between his fingers. “You are my wife, Mila. Everything you do is solely to please me.” His words were liquid seduction, melting as it passed his lips. “And what you wear is no exception.”

  His warm breath kissed my wet lips, his scent reminding me of how it felt to be surrounded by it, to have his smell cling to my skin.

  I inhaled sharply when he let go of my chin and stepped back, his eyes narrowed. I turned on my heel and disappeared into the dressing stall, closing the thick velvet curtains. I had to take a few moments to remind myself to breathe and to shake the desire that threatened to turn my insides into nothing but embers of lust. As if Saint’s sexual ownership over me wasn’t enough, I had to try to process this new world around me. Never in my life had I been surrounded with so much buzz and hype, so many people living life in the fast line, and dressed like royalty. Being that I was from New York, that was saying a lot.

  I slipped into the red nylon gabardine dress with a scoop neckline that dipped low between my breasts. It was short. Very short. The slight flare of the skirt and the matching belt accentuated my hips. And the look on Saint’s face as I stepped out was all the answer I needed regarding his obvious approval.

  He smirked. “Like I said, red becomes you, Mila.”

  “You know my entire wardrobe can’t consist of only red items.”

  “Of course it can,” he replied as if he couldn’t understand how I could think that.

  “I’m serious, Saint.”

  “Fine,” he conceded and waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I’m willing to make an exception. You can have a wardrobe that consists of all the colors in the rainbow,” he licked his lips, “as long as you wear nothing but red underneath. Red brassieres, red panties. I’d like to see the color against your skin whenever I decide to fuck you.”

  A deep-rooted ache throbbed between my legs, and my thighs clenched with a need to feel his body between my legs. By the smug look on his face, he knew what kind of reaction he had instigated, how my body always betrayed me whenever it came to him. But I wasn’t quite ready to accept his demand. “Are you going to pick my lingerie for me as well?”

  He lifted a brow. “Is that your question for today?”

  “Of course not.” I crossed my arms. “I meant to say that you can’t choose my lingerie as well.”

  He positioned the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, leisurely leaning back. “Your lingerie will be for my eyes only. So, it makes sense that I choose it.”

  “Have it your way, then.”

  “Finally, you’re starting to get it. My way.” He smirked.

  “Yeah, your way.” I held the velvet curtain in my hand. “But having it your way all the time won’t allow any room for surprises.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and cocked a brow. “And I’m a woman with a ton of surprises up my sleeve. Too bad you’ll never have the privilege to be on the receiving end.”

  The curtain rail screeched as I jerked it closed, but not before I caught a glimpse of Saint’s face which showcased a rare stunned expression.

  12

  Saint

  The thick velvet curtain taunted me. I wanted it gone. I wanted to sit on this expensive goddamn couch and watch as my wife got dressed and undressed, trying on different dresses that accentuated her every curve. My dick was already pressing uncomfortably against my zipper ever since our little spat about the color red, lingerie, and how I wanted to fuck her while her skin blended beautifully with the crimson color.
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br />   While I sat there with a throbbing hard-on, the extremely incapable salesclerk walked in with arms full of red dresses and handed them to Mila through the curtain.

  A sly grin tugged at my mouth. “My wife decided she’d like to see other colors as well. Maybe some corals and pinks.”

  The hard look on her face spoke volumes, and I merely lifted a brow in warning, which was enough for her to keep her goddamn mouth shut and do as she was told. “I’ll go get some items from our latest collection.”

  “You do that, Maria.”

  The click of her heels was about as loud as her animosity, which was such a contradiction to the lecherous glances she snuck my way whenever she thought my wife wasn’t looking. I also knew of other husbands who accompanied their wives to this very room who tipped Maria for more than just her fashion expertise. The woman was worse than a scarlet letter in stiletto heels. An upscale whore with nothing but greedy intentions. Even now, after I had put her in her place, I was willing to bet she’d pull down her panties for me and be ready to get pounded like a fucking blow-up doll.

  Another hour passed. To watch Mila trying on every dress, sashaying her sensual hips and voluptuous curves in front of me, then disappearing behind that wretched curtain while I imagined her naked body was time spent in my own personal hell. I found myself back in high school, trying to hide a hard-on I had no control over when a girl with a short skirt came prancing past. In this case…Mila.

  “What do you think?”

  I was reluctant to look up since I was already hanging on my last damn thread of control.

  “Saint? Do you like it?”

  I braved a glance, ignoring the ache in my groin. And what I saw just about took my breath away. In front of me stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen wearing a crimson, lush velvet dress draped over her perfect physique. The lowcut neckline gave a teasing peek of the swell of her breast, though not too much that would send me on a murderous frenzy whenever a man looked at what was mine. But just enough. The embellished straps added a dash of sparkle to an overall exquisite dress.