Cruel Saints

Lucian stares at me for a moment before he unlocks his door and steps into his own suite, then he murmurs, “Go inside, little bird. Be ready to train at six.”

“Okay,” Before I shut the door behind me, I add, “Good night, Lucian.”

Our eyes lock for a moment, and a foreign sensation flutters in my stomach. I close the door quickly and make sure to lock it. Staring at the dark wood, hope and attraction stir in my chest.

Lucian Cotroni has the power to help me, but that doesn’t mean I can trust him.

Careful, Elena. Don’t fall for his charm just because he’s shown you kindness. He’s only helping you in exchange for your loyalty. It’s all business for him.

My heartbeat begins to speed up when it sinks in he’s going to show me how to kill Dante.

Yes, focus on that. It’s the only thing that matters.

LUCIAN

While I strip out of my suit, my thoughts return to the hopeless expression I saw on Elena’s face while she was praying.

I’m not going to lie, it was heartbreaking, to say the least, and that’s not an emotion I’m comfortable with. Seeing Elena so vulnerable… made the protectiveness I felt toward her when she first came to St. Monarch’s roar back to life.

I have to be careful, though. Thinking with my heart will only lead to my death. She’s still Valentino Lucas’ daughter, and it’s the only reason I’ve kept my distance from her since I showed her how to shoot a gun.

It’s been hard seeing her every day, and forcing myself to stay away from her has only made the attraction I feel toward her grow.

Naked, I walk to the bathroom and turn on the faucets in the shower. While I wash my body, I think about the offer I made Elena. If I help her, she will be bound to me by oath, and I’ll have her support. She’s desperate enough to promise me anything in return for protection.

Once I’m done showering and dressed in sweatpants, I check my phone. Not seeing any messages, I drop down on my bed and stretch out.

The sight of Elena kneeling by the fountain pops back into my mind. The raw desperation and fear, while Elena begged a statue to save her, reminds me of when we buried my mother. She died when I was eight, and I’ve never forgotten the sight of my father kneeling by her grave as he mourned her. She died of an aneurysm, and it was one hell of a shock to us. The one moment she was with us and the next she was gone. My mother was the love of his life, and my father never recovered from the loss.

I don’t know what kind of life Elena has lived, but something tells me it’s one she’ll never recover from. She could’ve been a fierce rival like the other women in the Mafia, but instead, her father turned her into a frightened little bird.

There’s still fight in her, though. Not all is lost.

Careful, Lucian. You don’t want to make her strong enough to take you down.

That would be the stupidest way to go out in the history of the Mafia.

When I open my door at ten minutes to six, I’m surprised to find Elena waiting in front of her own.

There’s no trace of the restless night she had on her face, and dressed in a pair of black leggings and a t-shirt with her hair tied in a ponytail, she looks ready for training.

“Morning,” she says, a cautious expression in her eyes.

“Morning,” I mutter as my eyes drift over her petite body. Once again, it strikes me how beautiful she is with a body made for nights of wild sex.

“I need coffee, or I’ll kill someone,” I mutter as I begin to walk, and when Elena doesn’t follow, I order, “Come.”

She falls into step next to me, and when we walk into the dining room, Madame Keller looks up from where she’s enjoying her own coffee. A knowing smile spreads around her lips, and she greets us with a nod.

I take a seat at my usual table, and seconds later, a server brings my regular order. “Your espresso, Mr. Cotroni.” He turns his attention to Elena. “What would you like, Miss Lucas?”

“A café latte, please.”

While I enjoy my coffee, my eyes settle on Elena. She looks nervous again, as if last night didn’t happen between us. Setting my cup down, I ask, “Did you manage to sleep?”

Her eyes dart away from mine as she answers, “Yes.”

“You’re a bad liar,” I call her out, and it makes her look at me again.

We’re interrupted when the server brings the café latte, and I change the subject. “We’ll start with weapons training and then hand to hand combat.”

“Grandmaster Yeoh trains me at four every afternoon,” Elena mentions.