Cruel Saints

But we’re not.

I’m Elena Lucas. A bargaining piece.

He’s Lucian Cotronti. Head of the Mafia.

Still, I’ve never been kissed like that before. There was so much heat, it makes what I shared with Alfonso seem detached and childish. Keeping in mind, I was only seventeen.

Alfonso was my first… and, well, the only boy close to my age on the property. It’s not like I had a wide selection.

‘You still don’t have a selection of men to choose from,’ I remind myself.

You’re marrying Dante in eleven days.

Unless Lucian can stop it.

My eyes dart up to his, and I realize he’s been watching me stare at him all this time.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly as if he doesn’t want the other men to hear.

Figuring I have nothing to lose, I ask, “Can you stop the wedding between Dante and me?”

Lucian’s eyes drift over my face before they lock with mine again. “Do you want me to?”

Without hesitating, I nod. “Yes. More than anything.”

God, please!

My heart begins to beat faster as I wait for Lucian’s answer to the most important question I’ve ever asked.

Finally, he nods. “There’s no way you’re marrying Dante. Stop worrying about it.”

Just like that?

My breath explodes over my lips as pure relief floods me. “Thank you…” Unable to find more words, I repeat, “Thank you.”

Lucian’s dark brown gaze takes mine prisoner. The intense expression on his face makes my heartbeat pick up and my stomach spin as if it’s being tossed around by a strong wind.

Alexei shatters the moment when he says, “We’re five minutes out. Get ready.”

Lucian pulls his arm away from me, and I slump back against the seat. When he takes the guns out to check them, my eyes lock on his sure hands and the weapons.

Hands that won’t hesitate to take a life.

I wonder if he even feels bad about the men he killed. How many other lives has he taken? How many more will he still take?

What makes him any different from Dante besides the fact that he’s more powerful?

Okay, I’ll admit there’s a lot that sets the two of them apart. For one, Lucian doesn’t look like a monster, not like Dante. Lucian also hasn’t abused me in any way.

Still, I’ve only known him for three weeks. A lot can change. Even with Dante, it took time before he started abusing me.

Yeah, it’s probably a matter of time before Lucian will show his true cruelty.

When we enter an airfield, the atmosphere grows tense in the car. Demitri stops the vehicle and then orders, “Move fast.”

Lucian shoves the door open, and then he gets out. I scoot to the side and climb out behind him. While Carson, Alexei, and Demitri keep an eye out, Lucian and I grab our luggage, and then I have to jog to keep up with the men as we make our way to the stairs.

As I climb the first step, Alexei takes my luggage from me, muttering, “Faster, little one.”

I rush up the steps and into the cabin and keep moving toward the back of the lavish plane, where I take a seat in the corner.

A couple of seconds later, I watch as our luggage is placed in the overhead compartments, and then Lucian comes to sit next to me.

The Russians sit down on the opposite side of the plane, and I let out a relieved breath.

Moments later, we’re moving, and I quickly strap myself in. As the plane gains speed, the only comfort I have is that I’ll be back in Italy soon.

I glance through the window at the dark night outside, feeling a pang of sadness that I didn’t get to explore Switzerland’s beauty.

LUCIAN

After the moment we shared in the car where Elena asked me for help, she’s been quiet.

I’m taking it as a sign that she’s warming up to me. She wouldn’t ask me for help if it was otherwise.

She’s staring out of the window, and it gives me a moment to take a good look at her.

Her skin is smooth, and except for the old scar, the fading bruise on her jaw, and the marks on her neck, there are no other blemishes. She has a small button nose and big eyes, the light brown of her irises, not a color I’ve seen before. Elena is breathtakingly beautiful, there’s no denying that, but it’s not the reason I want her.

She’s so damn feminine it calls to every part of the man in me.

She’s not the strongest, and yes, she probably comes with a fuck-ton of baggage, but it will take more than that to scare me off. Actually, it doesn’t bother me at all.

Maybe it’s because I’ve lost my mind with grief, or because I just can’t deny myself this one thing, but I make up my mind to arrange a marriage between Elena and myself.