The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,60

up.”

“It doesn’t,” I tell him abruptly, well aware of his game. “The food bank needs filling though.”

Silence falls, and I know he’s still surprised about my lack of ass-kissing. There’ll be none of that from me.

“I’ll make sure the shelves are filled then. Nice and tight.”

I hum. “That donation will be appreciated. You may begin your confession.”

He clears his throat. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been fifty weeks since my last confession.”

A regular priest might chide him for that. But, as I’d ascertained last night, I’m not a regular priest.

Andrea couldn’t have rammed that truth home to me more.

I don’t say a word, just let him carry on digging his own grave as he reveals just under a year’s worth of sins in a handful of minutes.

“Things got a little out of hand last night,” he rumbles, and I can tell he’s getting to the real sin. He mentioned fucking around on his wife, and what sounds like some kind of art theft, but the way his voice deepens?

I know this is why he’s here.

He killed someone.

That’s the only reason these types come to church—when they’ve got blood on their hands, and it’s tainting their soul.

“They tried to break into my place.” He clears his throat again. “You know Remo’s, don’t you, Father? Over by Piazza del Popolo?”

What did he want? A review on TripAdvisor?

I grunt. “Yeah, I know it.”

“Come in tonight. I’ll make sure you eat well.”

I narrow my eyes, and not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, because that invitation might come in handy, I murmur, “Thank you, my child.”

Because I took the ‘bribe,’ I can hear him soften up, like his world has righted itself once more.

He didn’t know how to handle someone who wasn’t waiting on his every word, but now that I’ve taken that particular offer, I know he figures I’ll be open to more.

Some priests do this.

I never did.

It’s one of the reasons why I’m not popular with my flock. You’d be surprised how many people think they can still buy their way into heaven, and even more surprised by how many priests allow that perception to reign true.

Rubbing my bottom lip between my fingers, I murmur, “Continue.”

“Well, last night, there was a situation. I ended up pulling my weapon and a few people got killed. They shouldn’t have come into my territory though.” His attempt at justification has me rolling my eyes, even though he can’t see me do that. “I had to protect my territory.”

“How many died?”

“Six.” He clears his throat.

“All their blood is on your hands?”

My nostrils flare at just the thought.

“Si,” he mutters grimly. “It was a bad night.”

“Your soldiers aren’t here. Was it all you?”

Silence.

I take that as a yes.

Which, not unsurprisingly, means he gave me the cliff notes of a confession.

Anger fills me. It throbs inside me to the point it pulses in my ears.

Because I can’t stand to be near this bastard anymore, I mutter, “Four Hail Marys and two Our Fathers along with the Act of Contrition are all I ask of you today.”

“Really?”

That he sounds cheerful tells me I’ve gone too easy on him. My jaw aches from grinding down on it so hard, and I don’t breathe easily until he gets out of the booth and heads for the pews.

Something about his confession gets to me.

I’m not sure what.

But the need to escape from the booth hits me more.

I clamber out, taking a deep breath the second I can, and when I see her, it’s like the light peering through the clouds.

I take a deep breath, one that helps calm me, and her eyes soften at the sight.

She’s beautiful.

So fucking beautiful that I don’t even know what she’s doing here.

Unless...

My throat closes.

Maybe she is an angel.

I already figured that she’s heaven sent, but maybe that’s more than just a play on words.

Maybe she really, truly is.

She wanders over to me, wearing what she did yesterday, but not looking like a bag of dirty laundry as she does so. Her loose-limbed gait does what I tried to avoid—makes my dick hard—and there’s an air about her that’s no longer innocent.

I want to grimace at that, because I ruptured that. She’s no longer a virgin, and more blood stains my soul as a result, but I take comfort in knowing the truth...

The second I’m free from this life, she’ll be mine.

I’ll make reparations.

In the low light, her hair shouldn’t glint the way it does, but there are little twinkles that