The Rise of Saint Read online

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Other Novels by Bella J

  About the Author

  Copyright ©2020 by Bella J

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual living or dead person, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Editor: Lori Whitwam

  Cover Design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations

  Formatting: Pink Elephant Designs

  Interior Illustration (Sketch): Manuela Soriani - [email protected]

  “These violent delights have violent ends

  And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

  Which as they kiss consume”

  ~ William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

  1

  Saint

  The second that elevator door opened and I looked into her striking green eyes, I knew this night would end with bloodshed. His blood—the man standing next to her clutching her hand like he owned her. But he didn’t. I knew that. He knew that. Unfortunately, she didn’t.

  I watched her step into the foyer, her dark curls a wet mess from the rain. If I hadn’t already known the balance of her bank account, I would have been able to guess it by merely looking at her clothes. The tight jeans she wore were torn at the knees, and her white sneakers were stained and soaked. With her every step, I kept my gaze pinned on her. Watching her. Scrutinizing every feature, her every move. The way she glanced around the penthouse suite, her eyes wide and curious, her blush pink lips parted as she took in the luxuries and elegance of what my wealth could afford, was proof she wasn’t from a world where money and power determined alliances, demanded respect, and ruled every pawn.

  My world.

  Her innocence cloaked her like a shroud of virtue, yet her squared shoulders showcased an inner confidence which the black Lakers shirt did not reflect. Her wardrobe gave away her youth, and her curiosity proved just how naïve she was.

  The man beside her spotted me immediately, rushing in my direction, far too damn eager to extend his hand. “Mr. Saint. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  I dismissed his attempt at a handshake with a mere nod, and he stepped back, wiping his hand down the side of his jeans before placing a hand on his top jacket pocket. “My name is Brad. Mr. Reed sent me to deliver the package.”

  “I know who you are. And I know exactly why you’re here.” I signaled for James, my right-hand man, to refill my glass with bourbon before turning my attention back to Brad. “You made sure no one followed you here?”

  He nodded. “I made sure of it.”

  My gaze drifted back to the raven-haired woman next to him. There was nothing extraordinary about her features. Nothing that would make her stand out from the crowd—except those forest green irises that came alive under the dim lights.

  “Introduce me to your friend, Mr. Walters.”

  Brad cleared his throat and placed his hand on her elbow. “This is Mila.”

  I slanted a brow when she took a step forward, extending her hand, her smile polite and warm. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Saint.”

  This time I decided to play nice by reaching out and taking her hand. It was our first touch, and I smiled because I knew it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

  “Mila. Is that short for another name?” I let go of her hand and sat back. “Milana, perhaps?”

  “Um, no. It’s just Mila.” Her cheeks flushed a faint rose tint, and it made me wonder what her skin would look like colored with a deeper shade of red left by my hand.

  I reached for my tumbler of bourbon and righted in my seat. “No one knows you’re here?” My question was directed at Brad, which he answered immediately.

  “No, Mr. Saint.”

  “I trust you’ve been discreet about the nature of the item you’re delivering?”

  “Of course.”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Mila frown. It was easy to spot her discomfort slowly setting in. A half-smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as she started to squirm, our little conversation making her uncomfortable.

  I turned my attention back to the dirty-blond waste of space. “And now I suppose you’re expecting payment for your delivery.”

  Brad grinned. “Anything will be appreciated, Mr. Saint.”

  I tapped my finger on the chair armrest, knowing he was already thinking of all the cocaine and whores he could buy from our little business transaction. He was nothing but a pathetic excuse for a man who had zero ambition apart from getting high and fucking his way through life. But the rules had been explained to him in a way even he could understand. Do not touch what is mine. And lucky for him, he didn’t.

  I nodded, placed my glass down on the side table, and stood, straightening my Armani suit before reaching inside my pocket for his payment. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Brad.”

  * * *

  MILA

  Fifteen Minutes earlier

  “Wow.” I craned my neck, looking up at the ceiling of one of New York’s most expensive luxury hotels. “I wish you told me we’d be coming here.”

  “Why? Would you have put extra effort in your wardrobe if I did?”

  “Funny, but no.” I sneered and pulled out my phone to take some pictures. “I would have brought a better camera.”

  “Oh, my God.” Brad pulled the phone from my hand. “Could you at least act like you’re from around here?”

  “I am from around here.” I smirked. “I’m just not from around here, here.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

  “This ceiling alone is probably worth more than a thousand times my current bank balance.”

  “Try a million times more.” Brad winked and pressed the elevator button.

  I glanced around in awe. “You know, staring through the window really doesn’t do this place justice.” I turned when the elevator door opened and stepped in after Brad. “What are we doing here, again?”

  He pulled a hand through his blond hair, which was in desperate need of a cut. “It’s just a quick stop to drop off a package for some rich Italian fucker.”

  I grabbed my phone back from him and shoved it in my jeans pocket. “What kind of package?”

  He shrugged then glanced at his wristwatch. “I dunno. I’m just doing a friend a favor. I didn’t ask any questions.”

  “Where is it?”

  Brad looked at me with a frown. “Where’s what?”

  “The package? I don’t see it in your hands.”

  “Oh.” He slapped against his jacket pocket. “It’s a small package.”

  The numbers on the side panel lit up as we passed each floor. I rested against the back wall. “Let me guess. This rich dude has the penthouse.”

  “Yup.” Brad shifted from one leg to the other, and I noticed he was wearing a new pair of designer jeans. “That’s new?” />
  “Hmm?”

  “The jeans.”

  “Oh, yeah. I got them last week.”

  I crossed my arms. “Since when can you afford designer jeans?”

  “Since I’m delivering packages to rich bastards.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, and I scowled at him. I had known Brad for a few months, and we had a great friendship going. We met through a mutual friend, and he just kind of latched on to me, and I liked having him around. No matter where we went, we always had a good time together.

  I sighed, staring at the numbers again. We had six more floors to go before we would finally reach the top, so I glanced at my distorted reflection in the shiny wall and combed my fingers through my messy curls. But it was hopeless with this weather. There was no taming the hot mess growing out of my scalp.

  Finally, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Even if I wanted to, I would not have been able to shut my mouth as I stared at the foyer. Light from an elegant crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling touched all the subtle tones of beige and gold, the lighting not too sharp or too dull. Dark marbled floors were a stark contrast to ivory colored walls, creating a sense of balance that made you feel right at home.

  “Stop gawking,” Brad mumbled next to me.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the loud screams of the wealth I’m surrounded with.” I turned as we walked farther in. Every inch of the suite was decorated and furnished with rich leather furniture, beautiful landscape paintings, and bouquets of flowers. The fresh scent of lilies brushed my nose, the smell complimenting the pristine surroundings.

  “Mr. Saint. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  I jerked my head to the side. “Who is Mr. Saint?” I mumbled to myself and quickly followed Brad into the lounge area. The scent of expensive leather and polish clung to the air I breathed.

  “My name is Brad. Mr. Reed sent me to—”

  “I know who you are. And I know exactly why you’re here.”

  The deep, strong voice with a thick Italian accent had every hair on my body raised, and I froze when I caught sight of a man sitting on one of the leather chairs. With his ankle crossed over his other knee, the jacket of his dark navy suit unbuttoned, revealing a crisp white shirt, this man looked as powerful as he was rich. His olive skin was flawless, those pale blue eyes illuminated under the dim lights of the room. Dark hair and a chiseled jawline peppered with a five o’clock shadow had him looking like a man painted in mystery and darkness. The kind of darkness that would devour a woman like me and still not be satiated. His presence alone intimidated the hell out of me.

  As I stepped in next to Brad, he introduced me to the mysterious Mr. Saint, who sat on that leather couch like it was his throne, like he owned everything in this entire goddamn world—including me. Whether it was a bold move, or a complete lack in judgement, I extended my hand. A second passed where he merely gazed at me unamused, as if I insulted him by wanting to shake his hand. I was sure he would show me the same disdain he showed Brad by refusing to shake his hand, but to my surprise, he eased forward and took my hand in his. The second his palm pressed against mine, I sealed my lips together, afraid I would gasp out loud, his touch cold as his stare. It was like ice against my skin, a complete contradiction to the warm light and ambience created by the riches that surrounded us.

  He sat back, and an amused grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, an enticing cupid’s bow complimented by a thick bottom lip. This man had a textbook perfect mouth, lips that were made to tempt and seduce. But there was something in the way he looked at me, how he stared like he knew me. It was unsettling, to say the least. I was so entranced by the man sitting in front of me I hardly paid any attention to the conversation that followed…until Brad mentioned my name like it was important. Like it had become the subject of their conversation. There was a tingle of warning that slowly swept down my spine, and only then did I notice how odd Brad behaved around Mr. Saint. Like he was trying to be on his best behavior—respectful, even. And I knew Brad. He had the tendency to deny any type of respect whenever it was demanded, yet here he was, acting like he was in the presence of the goddamn president.

  I leaned closer, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. “Brad, what’s going on here?”

  “Mila,” he snapped, and a sudden chill filled my gut. Something wasn’t right. I could feel the warning knock at the back of my skull. Shifting from one foot to the other, I tried my best to ignore the way my stomach felt heavier with each passing second.

  Mr. Saint lifted his chin, his eyes showing nothing but sheer annoyance. “I suppose you’re expecting payment for your delivery.”

  Brad nodded. “Anything will be appreciated, Mr. Saint.”

  With a nod, he placed his glass down on the side table, and I remained frozen as he straightened from his seat. My heart pounded, and I swallowed hard as I kept my gaze on him. The navy suit he wore clung to him like a second skin, his broad shoulders adding to his already intimidating demeanor.

  Adrenaline surged through my veins, my instincts hyperaware of the threat his large frame exuded.

  He reached inside his jacket pocket, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Brad.”

  2

  Mila

  I caught a glimpse of silver followed by a deafening crack splitting through my eardrums. There was a rush of air as I gasped, and my eyes snapped shut. In a moment, a flash of a second, I dropped to the ground, instinct taking control of every muscle in my body as I covered my head with my arms.

  The ringing in my ears was deafening, replacing every sound, the world around me cast in an eerie silence.

  I knew I shouldn’t open my eyes. Something told me to keep them shut for as long as I could while my forehead pressed against the plush carpet. Once I opened them, my worst nightmare would be in plain sight and there would be no going back. There was a reason everyone knew curiosity always killed the cat, but the unknown had a knack for grating its claws against every bone in your body, and it forced me to open my eyes. It was an action I regretted instantly when all I saw was red, streaks of crimson soaking into the fibers of the carpet. Blood. Brad’s blood.

  “Jesus.” My voice was nothing but a rush of air. I shuddered uncontrollably as tears started to burn grooves down my cheeks. “Brad?”

  Two hands grabbed my shoulders, yanking me from the nightmare while pulling me from the floor.

  “Please.” My lips trembled, fear making it impossible for me to keep my legs straight while I felt a hard fist grip the hair behind my head. Instinctively, I started pleading through the panic and tears. “Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t—”

  “You shouldn’t have gotten into that elevator, Mila.” Ice cold fingers grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look up.

  “I didn’t know…I don’t know—” My trembling lips made it almost impossible to speak, and I swallowed hard. “He was only supposed to drop off a package. I didn’t know—”

  “Of course, you didn’t.” He leaned his head to the side, studying me with intent, a slight curve at the corner of his lips. “How could you have known when so many people went to such extraordinary lengths to hide it from you? Or rather, to hide you from me.”

  I stilled, my eyes narrowed as every thought froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just came here with a friend—”

  “To deliver a package?”

  “Yes.” My bottom lip wouldn’t stop trembling as I looked him in the eye. I forced myself not to look away out of fear I might look down at my friend’s dead body and his blood which stained the expensive luxury carpet.

  He twisted his fingers, tightening his hold at the back of my head. A shudder wracked through my already trembling body when I felt his thumb wipe at my tears. “Dear, innocent Mila.” His voice dipped low as amusement colored his every word. “You are the package.”

  His words exploded into fragments my mind couldn’t possibly piece together. I was too scared, too numb t
o even try. The light blue color of his eyes was a deceptive contradiction against the darkness that radiated from him. While his fingers dug into my cheeks, his hand gripping my hair to a point where my scalp started to burn, every instinct I had screamed at me to try to run. But my legs were too weak, the icy tentacles of terror tightly wrapped around them.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Shhh.” He dragged a finger down and past my lips. “Do not ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t expect you to. What I do expect of you is to not fight me, and to do exactly as you are told.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  He traced a gentle finger down the side of my face, my bottom lip quivering. “Because it’s expected of you.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “I can already hear your thoughts reeling with so many questions. Soon, they will all be answered.” He let go of my hair and put some distance between us. “But first we need to leave.”

  I stepped back, wanting to be farther away from him as I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  With a smirk, he glanced from me, to Brad’s dead body, then back to me—a silent warning powerful enough to let my last bit of courage wither away. “You will, Mila. You will.”

  He nodded toward a man standing a few feet away. I didn’t even realize he was moving closer, not until I felt his fingers wrap around my elbow. I tried to jerk free without taking my eyes off the man who just killed my friend. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it now and get it over with.”