Cruel Saints

On my right shoulder sits an angel, pleading with me to find compassion in my heart. To be gentle with this broken little bird. To not be just another man who forces himself on her.

Christ, right now, I want to flick the angel off my shoulder and listen to the devil.

I fist my hands at my sides as I fight for control over the intense emotions, and then I manage to take a step back.

Leave, Lucian. Before you do something, you’ll regret.

My gaze rakes over Elena, where she’s staring at me with wide, fear-filled eyes.

How did this happen? How has this petite woman manage to warm the coldest part of me?

Without a word, I turn away from her and stalk out of her suite. I pull her door closed behind me and take the couple of steps to my own. Unlocking it, I shove the heavy wood open, and walking into my living room, I slam it shut behind me.

Fuck.

Needing to find some clarity, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial my father’s number.

“Son?” he answers as always.

“Papà,” I say, knowing it will get his attention. I only call him that when I need my father and not the head of the Mafia.

“What happened?” he instantly asks with concern lacing his words.

“I… I actually don’t know,” I admit. “It’s Elena Lucas.”

“What? Tell me,” my father demands, his worry for me making his patience non-existent. After my mother died, I became my father’s world. I know he lives and breathes for me. There’s no one alive he loves more.

“She makes me feel,” I force the words over my lips.

Christ, does she make me feel. Everything.

“Dio,” he mutters ‘God’ in Italian. “Now’s not the time, Lucian.”

“I know,” I bite out. “Trust me, I know.”

“Don’t act with your heart. Give me time. Once the threat has been dealt with, we can talk about Elena.”

Time. It’s something I don’t have.

“She’s marrying Dante in two weeks,” I inform him.

“Merda,” he grumbles. “This is really the last thing I need to worry about.” He lets out an exasperated breath. “Are you thinking with your cock, or is it more?”

I wish it was only my cock. I’d be able to fuck her out of my system then.

“Lucian?” My father snaps when I take too long to answer.

Knowing I can’t hide anything from him, I say, “I feel things for her I’ve never felt before. I have no idea what to make of it. I just… I want her, and it’s clouding my judgment.”

I’m weak.

God, she makes me weak.

That’s not good at all.

“We have two weeks. Sort through your shit. If you still want her in seven days, I’ll talk with Valentino.”

I might want her now, but does that mean I want her for the rest of my life. Am I willing to marry her? Against her will?

I have no fucking idea. This is all new to me.

But I have seven days to figure out what the hell this is I’m feeling for her.

“Thank you,” I mutter as I walk to the couch. I sit down and let out a heavy sigh. “Papà … how did you feel when you met Mamma?”

He pauses for a moment, then he answers, “I was instantly obsessed. Your mamma bewitched me. She became the only thing I wanted. I would’ve killed for her. I would’ve taken her against her will if it was the only way I could have her.”

I sit up straighter, a frown forming on my forehead. “But Mamma loved you… right?”

“Yes, I was lucky. She returned my feelings, and we got married a month later. Even though it was arranged by your nonni, we had no objections.”

I knew my grandfathers were the ones who arranged the wedding to align the two families, but I didn’t know my parents fell in love the moment they met. I never asked about their love because I didn’t want to cause my father heartache.

I only know what I saw while my mother was alive. Their love was warm, and it filled our home to the brim.

Needing to know, I ask, “How do I know when it’s love and not just lust?”

“You don’t, son. To me, they are the same thing. You can’t love what you don’t want. The more I wanted your mamma, the more I loved her. With every passing day since she left, my love has only grown for her. She’s the only one for me.”

I rub my fingers over my forehead, not knowing what I actually feel for Elena.

Protective. Yes.

Attraction. Hell fucking yes.

Possessiveness. Yes.

But love?

“If in seven days, your feelings for the girl have grown, then you’ll know. If they fade, you’ll have your answer.”

So far, they’ve only been growing.

I nod. “Okay.” I swallow, then continue. “How are things there?”

“I’m starting to think I should’ve let you come home,” my father chuckles.