Billionaire’s Sins by L. Steele

3

Edward

"Excuse me?" She gapes. "What…what did you say?"

Shit, what the hell had I been thinking? Why had I blurted that out?Because I am attracted to her… There, the simple truth. I’ve never been so affected by a woman as I have been since I first saw her at City Hall when she’d appeared next to the bride…and my world had reduced, shrunk down to her eyes, her mouth… That aura of her which shines so brightly, so purely. So innocent. How old is she anyway?

How could I have known then, that she would be trouble? That every single thing I’d sworn off, every vow I had taken... All of it would culminate in this test. This...trial that God has selected for me. And I cannot give in. No way. Not by all that I hold dear to me. There is space for only one attraction, one relationship, one complete obsession. To the One Above.

So, I had taken the easy way out. The cowardly way, you say? Maybe, but it is better to be upfront about what I am. I need to be clear that there can never be anything between us…

Hell, why am I even thinking along those lines? Not that she seems unduly affected by me, but that spark of awareness between us… I hadn’t imagined that. Or the way her pupils had dilated, or how she had leaned in to me, how she’d sniffed me. She says she’s not a girl anymore… but I beg to differ. She’s all female, all coltish limbs and a translucent skin that reflects whatever she is feeling.

"I have taken a vow." I step back from her. "I have promised to live a celibate life. I have completely given my life to Christ and the people I have been called to serve."

I turn away from her, head for the clothes that I’d placed on the pool-chair.

The hair on the nape of my neck prickles.

I glance over my shoulder to find her staring at me. Her gaze runs down my back, then back to my face, as I snatch up my shirt and shrug into it.

"I… I don’t understand."

"Me neither." I grab my towel, then head for the guesthouse that I occupy whenever I stay over at the Sterlings’, which isn’t often. But when I’d wanted to leave yesterday, the rest of the Seven wouldn’t hear of it. With Arpad getting married, it means all of us are now hitched… Well, except me… And Baron. I stiffen. Why the hell am I thinking of him? The friend who’d turned his back on us and left. Not that he hasn’t been in touch. He’s communicated through snail mail, writing on occasion, like when Damian was hesitant about getting married to Julia. Or when there is a specific investment that Sinner or Saint aren’t sure about, though how he knows this is beyond me. The two of them run 7A Investments, one of the leading financial services firms in the country. Between them, they’ve managed to invest our money such that we’ll be living off the wealth created for this entire lifetime. Not that I am going to touch a penny of it.

My investments go toward FOK Media, aka Full of Kindness Media, the non-profit that the Seven set up to finance upcoming talent in return for a portion of their earnings. I’d also put money toward my own trust that supports the most vulnerable and those in need.

As for myself, I stay in a small two-bedroom home, owned by the parish I am devoted to serving. The place where I need to return before things get further out of hand. It had been wrong to approach her in the first place. I’d seen her watching me, had recognized her— Of course, I had. I couldn’t have missed her—and then I had approached her. I should have walked away, but I couldn’t resist. I had to see her once more. And now I have to atone for the sinful thoughts I entertained.

I clench my fists at my sides.

"Wait." Her footsteps approach me, and I increase my pace.

I cannot be alone with her, not for one more second.

"What are you trying to tell me, Edward?"

I reach the guesthouse, twist open the door and step in. I turn to find her hesitating at the entrance and beckon her in.

She hesitates and I tilt my head. "Come on, I have something to show you."

"You do?" Her forehead furrows.

"You need to see this."

She blows out a breath and follows me. I head inside, to the bedroom, take my collar from where I’d placed it on the bedstead. I slip it on, then turn to find her poised at the doorway.

Her face pales; her jaw drops.

"You’re a…a—"

"Priest." I nod.

"B…but," she opens and shuts her mouth, "you weren’t wearing a collar at the wedding yesterday."

"I’m a diocesan priest. I wear the collar when I have anything pastoral to do. I don't usually wear it when out with friends."

"I see." She shrugs off her blanket, folds it over her arm. Her gaze skitters away. "I knew it was too good to be true. Of course, it is." She retreats into the living room, drops the blanket and her book on the couch and begins to pace. "I mean, just once, things couldn’t be easy for me, right? Everything has to be complicated. Just this once, couldn’t things have worked out the way they do for everyone else? Of course, not." She throws up her hands. "This is not fair, not fair at all."

"Are you…" I follow her as she stomps back-forth-back, across the length of the floor of the living room. "Are you talking to yourself?"

"Shh.” She turns to me and frowns. "I’m trying to figure this out."

"By talking aloud?"

"Hey, don’t mock it until you try it. Did you know talking to yourself helps you organize your thoughts?" She shoves her purple-tipped hair back from her face.

Who dyes their hair purple? Ava does, that's who.

"According to psychologists, talking out loud to yourself helps you clarify your thoughts," she mumbles. "It helps to figure out what's important, and firm up any decisions you're contemplating."

"Ah," I allow my lips to tip up, "and what decision are you contemplating right now?"

She flushes. "I am not sure you want to know."

"Don’t I?"

She shakes her head. "I don’t think it’s right for me to share what I am thinking with a priest… Not unless I was in confession, but then, wouldn’t you have to keep it secret? I mean, aren’t you bound by a code of conduct of some kind? And damn, but I admit, I may have eyed you up a little out there earlier. Does that even count as sin? Is it made worse by the fact that you are priest? Is it—"

"Stop." I hold up my hand.

She purses her lips together, then draws in a breath. "Sorry," she mutters, "I tend to babble when I’m nervous."

"I didn’t notice." I allow my smile to widen. This girl—she’s adorable. She twists her fingers together, hunches her shoulders, then snaps them back. "Uh, guess I should...go then?"

She turns to leave, and something hot stabs at my chest. Okay, so I can’t have any kind of relationship with her… What the—? How had I even allowed myself to think that? Since becoming an ordained priest eight years ago, I’ve focused on my role, the routine, the discipline. The simplicity of my existence means everything to me. It helps me ground my thoughts, allows me to focus on what is important: serving others, helping them, listening to them, and helping to alleviate their worries.

In their comfort, I draw comfort. By easing their pain, I breathe easier. When I help a soul cross over, a part of me opens up to possibilities, and when I baptize a newborn, look into their clear eyes and welcome them to the house of the Lord, I redeem myself.

That… The regiment of how I live my life, gives me the framework upon which to anchor myself. When I am in that space, I don’t have to worry about what happened to me, how the incident affected me, how I had fallen apart after the kidnapping, when the Seven and I had been taken and held in captivity for a month; how I had pulled myself together, only to fall apart again.

Boys join the army to learn discipline… For me, it had been the calling from God that had saved me. And surely, it is God who sent this girl, this absolutely stunning, untainted-by-life soul to me.

Or is it the devil trying to lure me away from Him?

No, not possible. I shake my head. This... It doesn't feel wrong. There's nothing unnatural about what I feel for her. Surely, it has to be the Lord wanting me to learn something from her? That's why he sent her.

What is this test that I am facing? And do I have the courage to go through with it?

Can I rise to the occasion; face the fears that her proximity evokes in me?

And if I don’t—if I chose not to accept this ultimate trial… Would that not mean that I have learned nothing from all the time I have spent in serving the Lord?

If this is his way of testing me... And surely, it has to be. There could be no other explanation for why, out of everything I’ve encountered thus far, she stands out like a beacon…

The air around her crackles with a vitality, a strange sensation… Almost one of hope, of life, of joy… Emotions I’ve seen amongst my parishioners, that I have studied from afar, even joined them in celebrating… But never once, experienced personally. Not until now.

Is this why you sent her my way, my Lord? Is it a sign that I need to open myself further, allow the emotions in, sense their sting, revel in how they torture me with everything that I cannot and will not allow myself to feel? So be it, then. I follow your command.

"Ava," I call out as she opens the door, "wait."