Billionaire’s Sins by L. Steele
4
Ava
His voice stops me. I pause at the threshold.
"Ava."
I turn, wait for him to speak.
"I …" He shoves his hands inside his pockets. "I’m sorry," he finally says.
"For what?"
"For giving you the wrong impression earlier." He stares at me. "Perhaps some of the fault is with me too."
"Oh?" I stare. Is he going to apologize to me? Why? Because I was drawn to him? Please, don’t… Please, please, don’t. My cheeks heat, and I glance away, "I mean, seriously, it was nothing." I hold my blanket in front of me. Can I hide under it, maybe? No, that would only look silly… As if anything could be worse than our earlier encounter? Gosh, how could I have been attracted to him? He’s a priest… Someone sworn to not sleep with anyone, and I can’t stop staring at his perfect features. Those high cheekbones, his dark hair cut short at the sides, long on top, that hooked nose, the mean upper lip…that gorgeous throat I want to lick, the width of his shoulders that fills the doorway, cutting out the sight of the room behind him. He draws in a breath and the sculpted planes of his chest stretch the fabric of his shirt. Not that I am staring or anything. Of course, not.
I clear my throat, then glance away.
"I should be the one apologizing." I clutch at my blanket with palms that are slippery with sweat. Dear God… What’s wrong with me? And by the way, I need to have words with You. It’s not fair that You dangle someone as luscious as this man in front of me only to claim him and tell me that I can’t have him. OMFG. I am seriously losing it, if I am having conversations with the Power Above in my head. "I shouldn’t have sneaked looking at you earlier, and well… It’s just, you’re so damn gorgeous to look at, and well, I couldn’t help it."
"Did you just tell me that I’m gorgeous to look at?’
I glance up to find him staring at me with surprise and bemusement.
"Yes," I shuffle my feet, "I guess I did."
"Do you always say everything that comes into your head?"
"Kind of," I hunch my shoulder, "though honestly, I seem to have even less of a filter when you’re around."
"Do I make you nervous?" One corner of his lip curls…just a tad. Holy hell, he smirked. No, he totally did. And damn, if that isn’t the hottest thing I have seen. Right after the Edward I’d read about in Twilight and imagined myself as Bella.
And here I am as Ava, and this is my Edward right here. Except, this scenario is all wrong. Shit. I’m tying myself in knots. I stare at him. "Are you sure you’re a priest?"
He chuckles, "The last time I checked." He glances down at me, something like amusement and regret lacing his features. "Are you a…?" He tilts his head, "What do you do, Ava?"
"I’m a, uh, dancer."
"A dancer?" He frowns.
"Not ballet," I add quickly because that’s what most people assume automatically, "more like, the exotic kind."
"Exotic kind?"
"A belly dancer." I twitch my hips, more out of habit than anything else. Okay, so maybe not completely… Maybe it’s to take in how his nostrils flare as he lowers his gaze to my hips and stays there, as if fascinated by what he sees.
"A belly dancer, huh?" He finally raises his gaze to meet mine and those gorgeous golden-brown eyes of his blaze at me. Then he lowers his eye lashes, and when he raises them, all emotion is shorn from his features.
"I, uh, dropped out of university. I’d joined to study medicine, but somehow…half-way through my first year, I lost interest. Turns out, becoming a doctor requires a strong stomach. The first time I saw a cadaver, I fainted and then had nightmares for days. I couldn't enter the laboratory after that. Also, the smell of formaldehyde—the solution they use to preserve specimens? Turns out, I am allergic to it... So..."
I swallow.
"Shit. Uh... Shoot, I am sorry. I’m blabbing." I shuffle my feet. "All that untapped energy, you know, it needs an outlet. It’s why I turned to dancing, and then started my own studio teaching belly dancing. It makes me happy, you know—dancing?" Stop it, what the hell are you doing? Pouring out your thoughts in a stream of consciousness? "In fact, my dream is to one day to have a home big enough to have a studio in it so whenever I want to dance, I'll have my own space. A place where I can just be myself... You know?" I bite the inside of my cheek. So much for trying to appear calm and composed. OMG, what's wrong with me? I wipe my clammy palms against the fabric of my dress.
"So, I make you nervous?" He quirks an eyebrow, curls his fists at his sides, and whoa, his knuckles are white. I tilt my head, take in the nerve that throbs at his temple, the way his chest rises and falls. Maybe... I’m not the only one affected. Maybe, he feels it too—the connection, this strange chemistry between us that’s crackled since his gaze met mine. Only… It means nothing. It can’t… He’s a priest…and I? I’m a hot mess.
"You do." I step back. "You make me very unsure of myself, Ed—" I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Should I call him Edward? Father? Damn, this is not cool, not at all. "I really should go."
He lowers his chin, "Guess I'll see you for breakfast at the main house then?"
"Breakfast?"
"You are going to eat breakfast with Sinclair and Summer, I assume?"
"Ah," I swallow, "yes, Oof course."
He nods, then holds out his hand, "It's nice to meet you, Ava."
Nice? Okay, not the word I would have used, but if he wants to play it that way, well, so can I.
I tilt my head, "And you, Father."
His jaw tics. A mask seems to form from his features as he draws himself up to his full height. He’s so tall that I have to tip my head all the way back to see his face. How can someone so big, so vital, someone whose every inch of his body is packed with sex appeal… How the hell could he have dedicated himself to a life where he’ll never experience pleasures the likes of which I want to share with him?
And then, there’s his personality… The intensity of his gaze, the depth I sense underneath that tightly controlled exterior. The strength of his dominance that he wears about himself, tightly cloaked, held back, as if he doesn’t dare give in to the power of his complete self…because it would be too much for everyone around him. For the man he is, and make no mistake, he is one-hundred percent alpha male, would outshine anyone around him. Is that the depth of his sacrifice? The depth of what he’d given up to pursue his calling?
He holds my gaze, then nods. "Goodbye, Ava."
I clutch my blanket and book to my chest, then turn and head toward the main house. The hair on the nape of my neck rises and I know he’s watching me as I put distance between us. My stomach clenches; my guts twist. Don’t look back. Don’t. My heart begins to hammer in my chest. This is just silly. Why the hell do I feel like I’m leaving a part of myself behind? I pause, glancing over my shoulder to find he’s still there in the doorway. Our gazes connect; a thrill runs up my spine. My pores pop. Even across that distance I can make out the tension that coils those massive shoulders, those cut abs of his that are outlined by the fabric of the shirt he wears, the trim waist, the powerful thighs clad in pants that cling to his every groove, every ridge, every muscle that cords his legs.
I gulp. My throat closes. All the moisture in my body drains to my core. No, no, no, you can’t think of him that way, remember. I avert my gaze, turn and half-run until I reach the main house. I let myself inside, then race up the stairs. I reach the landing of the first floor, and bump into someone.
"Hey, where’s the fire?" Isla, one of my closest friends, asks.
It’s inside me, all around me,is what I want to stay. I firm my lips, peer up into her face.
"You, okay?" she asks. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost.
No, just a man I want… Who is the last man on this earth I can have. Shit, why can’t my life be more like one of those romance novels I love to read? Where the only thing standing between me and the hero is a string of inconsequential misunderstandings?
"Ava?" Isla touches my shoulders. "Say something."
"Something," I mutter.
She chuckles, "You want some coffee?" She grips my hand. "You seem chilled."
"I am," I admit, "I was out, uh, writing in my journal."
"You went out dressed like that?" She stares at my dress. "You didn’t wear a jacket?"
"I had this." I nod to the blanket.
"You still seem frozen."
Maybe that’s because of the surprise I just had? A cold sensation invades me. Shit, how could he be a priest? Seriously, a man who looks like that, who’s vital, and hot and so sexy. How had he renounced the world? Or maybe, only monks do that. I have no idea what it means to devote oneself to the service of the church. How could I? My parents had been agnostic. I’ve never been drawn to any religion.
Then my mother had passed away and I'd been convinced that there definitely isn't a God. If there were, why had he taken my mother away from me?
"Ava?" Isla tugs on my arm, "Come on, let’s get some coffee and breakfast, and you can tell me all about your adventures this morning."
"What adventures?" I frown, but allow her to lead me back the way I came. We walk into the large kitchen that looks out on the backyard—correction— that looks out on the entire freakin’ slope of Primrose Hill. The money has its benefits, no doubt, but surely, too much of it can’t be healthy. It blinds you to the real stuff—feelings, emotions, relationships… Hell, the only thing I know about myself is that I want to live as close to my true self as possible. Which means identifying what I want for myself in the first place.
She places two cups on the counter, then scoops coffee into the cafetière, before switching on the kettle to boil the water.
"The adventures that have put that dazed look on your face." She stabs a finger in my direction, "Fess up. Did you crawl out to meet someone?"
"What?" I blink, "No."
"You can tell me." She waggles her eyebrows. "You have a boyfriend hidden away you don’t want the rest of us to meet?"
"Nothing like that." The kettle switches off, she turns, pours water over the coffee grounds, then stirs it, before lowering the plunger.
The scent of coffee wafts around me and I blink as if coming out of a mirage. I place my blanket and book on the island as she pours out the coffee, then offers me a mug. I top it up with cream and three spoonfuls of sugar, then take a sip.
"So," she asks, "what happened to send you tearing through the corridor like you were trying to get away from a shark."
"Do you believe in fate?" I query.
She blinks, then blows on the liquid in her mug. She takes a sip, sighs, then leads the way to one of the barstools.
I slip onto the one next to her, place my mug on the counter. "Well?" I ask. "Do you?"
"Of course." She gazes into the depths of the dark liquid in her mug. "And being as how so many of the Seven have found their match… When honestly, it’s hard to believe any of them would ever end up together with someone else, based on the journeys that each of them has gone through…" She rubs her cheek. "It has to be fate…or destiny, or whatever you want to call it, guiding them to get together."
"But what if fate gives you mixed signals?" I rub my hand across my face.
"Mixed signals?"
I nod, "You know, like telling you to move forward yet holding you back, for some reason."
"I don’t understand." She scowls. "Are you telling me you met someone, and you are sure you were destined to meet him, only now you think he can’t be the one for you?"
"Kind of." I twist my fingers together. "It’s more like, I shouldn’t have been attracted to him in the first place, because he’s unavailable."
"He’s married?"
"No." I shake my head. "Kind of. He’s in a relationship with someone else."
She gives me a hard look. "So, he’s involved with someone else, and yet, he encouraged you?"
"Not knowingly." I wriggle around to find a more comfortable stance. "I mean, he didn’t do anything to encourage me. It was me, making assumptions about him."
"But he told you he is with someone else?"
"That’s the thing. He’s not with someone else."
"So, he’s available?" She frowns.
"No." I hunch my shoulders.
"So," she purses her lips, "he’s not with someone else, but he’s not available?"
I jut out my lower lip.
"What, is he a priest or something?" She chuckles.
I stare at her and my cheeks flame.
"Omigod." She opens and shuts her mouth, "No way, don’t tell me."
I bury my head in my hands, "Oh…this is soooo embarrassing."
"Don’t tell me." She grips my arm. "You’re talking about Edward, aren’t you?"
I nod, still not meeting her eyes. Jeez, does everyone know that he’s a priest? How had I missed that memo? But then, I hadn’t spent any time with the Seven. I’d seen Edward at Karina and Arpad’s wedding, but he hadn’t been wearing his priest’s collar, so I could be forgiven for making that mistake, right?
"So, you had no idea he was a priest?" Her voice is filled with sympathy.
"I must be the only one who didn’t know." I lower my hands, raise my gaze to hers. "I mean, look at the guy… He’s…so hot, has so much presence. He’s a walking orgasm, for hell’s sake."
"Who’s a walking orgasm?" Summer ambles over to us. She plucks the cup of coffee in front of me on the counter and takes a long satisfying sip. "Mmmm." She swallows, then glances between us, "So who were you talking about?"
"Edward," Isla blurts out, before I have a chance to tell her to shut up.
I glare at her and she raises her shoulders.
"The hot priest?" Summer places the cup of java back on the counter top, then walks over to a shelf near the refrigerator. She pulls out two boxes of cereal, pivots and takes a seat at the island. "Can’t talk about sexual frustration without sugar."
She slides the box of Froot Loops to me, then dips into the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Crunching down a mouthful, she leans forward, "So give."
I push away the cereal, pick up my cup of coffee. "Nothing to give."
"She’s attracted to Edward," Isla adds.
"Argh," I groan, "now I feel like a fool."
"Because he’s a priest?" Summer tilts her head.
"Umm, yeah?" I bury my nose in my cup. "Surely, it must be blasphemy or something to entertain thoughts of the sexual kind about a man dedicated to the Church?"
"I don’t blame you." Summer’s lips kick up at the corners. "That man makes me wanna go back to church."
"I bet there’s a line of women lining up to go to mass when he preaches." Isla chuckles.
"I’m first in line for communion." Summer nods.
"You’ll have to battle it out with me." Isla snorts.
"I’ll simply get in line twice." Summer laughs.
"I’ll be an altar server with nothing under my robes," Isla retorts.
"Wait… what?" My cheeks heat. "What the hell are you two going on about. Seriously?" I scowl at Isla. "Don’t talk about him that way, okay?”
"Ooh." Isla bats her eyelids. "Woman’s already getting possessive."
"I am not getting possessive." I grit my teeth. "I am simply stating that it’s wrong to talk about a priest in those terms."
"Oh, dear." Isla blinks. "Oh, dear."
"What?" I frown.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear." Isla shakes her head.
"What, what?" I stare at her. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you suddenly sound like someone from a Jane Austen novel?"
"Because you’re acting like one of the shy women who often appears in her stories?"
"I am not shy, and Jane Austen’s women were feisty heroines who could hold their own." I hunch my shoulders. " Also, it’s not all physical with him, okay? There’s something else going on here… Something I can’t put a finger on."
"You sense a connection with him," Summer scoops up more of her cereal. "And I’d be the first to say that’s not something you should dismiss."
"What do you mean?"
"How many men do you think you are going to meet in life with whom you have that kind of instant link?"
"I don’t know."
"Not many," she replies. "So, when you sense that kind of bond, you don’t let it go. Only—"
"Only he’s a priest?"
"There is that. And it’s Edward we’re talking about here. Everything I’ve heard about him from Sin, confirms to me that he’s focused on the Church and his path. I’ve heard the rest of the Seven talk about how he’d never turn from it."
"Shit." I squeeze my eyes shut. I knew it. I mean, of course, I did. After all, I am attracted to him. And what I know about him, so far, has confirmed to me that he doesn’t do anything by half measures. He is dedicated to the Church. No way, is he going to walk away. In fact, I shouldn’t even be thinking about him in this fashion.
Summer grips my shoulder and I snap open my eyes.
"So, what are you going to do about it?" Her forehead is furrowed.
"What can I do?" I slink down further into my seat, "He’s a priest, end of…"
"Is it?" Isla frowns. "Do you actually believe that?"
"Yes…No." I slide off the stool and begin to pace. "I don’t know. I mean, a part of me wants to walk away. The other part insists that there’s a reason that he’s called Edward, right?"
There’s silence, then the two of them look at each other. "You’re talking about Twilight?" Isla leans back in her seat. "Tell me you’re not… Not that I don’t have a thing for Edward."
I shoot her a dirty look, and she holds up her hands. "I meant the character, not your Edward."
"He’s not my Edward." I fold my arms about my waist. "And he probably never will be." I turn on them, "But…the fact that he's named after my favorite character ever; that has to be the only reason I am so strongly attracted to him… Right? And yet… There’s this barrier between us, one which can’t be overcome."
"Why can’t it be overcome?" Isla scowls, "I know he’s a priest, but men have given up a lot more for true love."
True love. Is it love? Or just lust?I wrap my arms about my waist, "I only just met the man."
"I wish I could tell you to walk away, but when you feel that connection," Summer thumps her chest, "it’s not something you can easily ignore."
"What would you have me do?" I lean a hip against the island. "It’s not like the challenge is easy to surmount." Although I’d certainly like to try to mount him, I think with a smirk.
"It never is," Isla retorts.
"I know… I know, but this situation... It’s crazy. I mean, am I supposed to seduce him away from his calling?"
"Maybe," Isla concedes, "maybe not."
"What do you mean?"
"I understand your reticence in not doing anything to sway him from his path… It takes a special kind of person to follow his calling," she says slowly.
"That’s what I mean. Who am I to stand between him…and…his…" I bite the inside of my cheek, "his loyalty, his devotion to the path he’s decided on? I just met him… Hell, I don’t even know how he feels about me…except…"
"Except?" Isla prompts me.
"He did apologize to me, in case he’d given me the wrong impression."
"Ah," Summer cups her chin in her hand, "so he’s aware of the chemistry between the two of you."
I wince, "Should we even be using adjectives like chemistry? Somehow, it seems so wrong, given the context, you know?"
Isla pushes back from the table. "Woman, you are making my head ache, the way you are over analyzing this. I think you are putting too much emphasis on the fact that he’s called Edward. Not that I have anything against the story, but this is real life, and it doesn’t always follow a predictable storyline, know what I mean?"
"You’re telling me?" I snort. "So what? I should ignore it completely?"
"Or just give it time, let it breathe, see how things develop," Isla offers. "Maybe the attraction will fizzle out—?"
Umm, I don’t think so, but okay, I am willing to wait and see.
"Maybe he’ll decide you’re worth it?" Summer points out. "If his feelings develop further, maybe he’ll do something about it?"
"Is that what you told Karma as well?" Karma, Summer's sister has been holed up in Sicily with her new hottie and Summer hasn’t heard from her in a few months, except for text messages.
Summer's brow furrows, "I never did get a chance to share that advice with Karma. She just up and left one day, which is out of character for her. And I confess, I am worried about what she's up to, but each time I tell her that I am coming to Sicily to hunt her down, she insists that it won't be long before she returns."
"Has she kept in touch with you?"
"We text every weekend. Every time I message her, she replies instantly." Summer chews on her lower lip.
"But you are still worried about her?"
"I am, and yet," Summer hesitates, "I don’t want to stifle her, you know? I trust my sister, and while I want to protect her, I also know that we have to make our own mistakes to learn from them too."
"Mistakes," I muse. "Wonder if I am mistaken about the chemistry between me and Edward." I shuffle my feet, "I’d never want him to give up his calling, his profession...for me, you know?"
"And you know the Seven are complicated. If it weren’t for the incident, he might never have become a priest."
"What happened to Edward?" I lean forward. "Is that what prompted him to follow this path?"
Summer’s forehead creases. "I don’t think even the guys know the full story, but what I do know? It’s not my story to tell. It’s best he tells you himself."
"Of course." My shoulders slump. "So then, what? I wait and watch? That’s what you two recommend?"
"Or maybe we could just be friends?" A new voice sounds from behind me. I turn and heat floods my cheek.
"Y-you," I stutter. "What are you doing here?"
