Billionaire’s Sins by L. Steele

9

Edward

I step into the chancel of the church via the priest’s door. The long sleeves of my cassock fit around my arms; my collar is snug around my neck, a reminder of the One to whom I belong. The One who’d saved me when I’d most needed Him. When I’d been doped out of my head on drugs, and a part of me had wondered what it would be like to end it all. When I’d floated in that strange out of body space, and turned toward the light in the distance; the realization had sunk in then. I wasn’t alone. All I had to do was surrender to the fate that had brought me that far. However much I'd abused my system with drugs, I couldn’t kill myself. Perhaps there was a reason to everything that had happened… Perhaps there was something more ahead, something I couldn’t see yet. A future that was not what I had imagined, but a future nevertheless. One in which I could be of service to others.

That’s when I'd surrendered to my His plan, and for the first time in my life, I’d prayed. I’d asked Him to show me the way, to tell me what to do next. How could I crawl out of the web of misery that bound my every move, that trapped me? And the answer had seeped into my soul. Live. Not for you, but for them. The people you can help, the world you can change, the children who need your love and your guidance, the souls you can help guide. Live for them.

And I had.

I sink down to my knees in front of the altar, press my palms together, bow my head. Blessed Lord above, forgive me for I have sinned. Forgive me for I forsook You when I was tempted. Forgive me for straying from the path. Forgive me for doubting myself, and hence, doubting You. Forgive me for the sins I have committed, and for those I am yet to commit. Forgive me, for I blinked and looked away. Forgive me, for I was distracted by her beauty. Her grace. For I allowed myself to be swayed by the thoughts of flesh, by the thoughts of how it would be to not be alone. For I am not, not really, not when You are with me for every breath I take. Forgive me for being disloyal to You. Forgive me for contemplating a life without You. For there is none. This is all there is. Me at Your service to do Your bidding, to follow Your directives. Bid me, Lord, for I am Your humble servant. I surrender to You and I will accept any punishment that You bestow. I swallow down the emotions that block my throat. Speak to me, Lord. Tell me You forgive me; tell me You have not deserted me for my actions. Tell me You pardon the sins I committed by thinking of someone else other than You. Please my Lord, talk to me. Are You still angry with me? Do You not forgive me? I—

"I forgive you."

The voice slides through the thoughts in my head. I jerk my head up, open my eyes, stare up at the marble figure high above. The stillness, the tranquility, the beauty of His pathos sink into my soul. My heart begins to race; my pulse pounds. I gaze up and into the face of the one who has held my thoughts for so many years now.

"Even though you don’t deserve it." The voice sounds from behind me. I pivot and watch as Sterling approaches.

I draw in a breath and his lips quirk. "You didn’t think it was the Man above speaking to you now, did you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. Yes, I had. And for a few seconds there, I had been convinced that He had answered. Even though, deep inside, I’ve always known that I must love Him without expectation, simply knowing that He loves, despite everything.

I turn back to the altar, make the sign of the cross, then rise up to my feet. "Sinclair, what brings the Sinner himself into the house of Christ?"

"You, Father."

"Me?" I turn to him. "Now, that’s something I’d never thought I’d hear from you. Is there something I can help you with?"

"The question is, can you help me help you, Father?"

I tilt my head. "And I thought I was the preacher here."

"There’s a spark of the divine in all of us, Father."

I chuckle. "You’re a canny one. How did Summer manage to hold you down long enough to put a ring on your finger?" I jerk my chin to where the platinum band encircles his left ring finger.

He places the finger so his right hand is over his left, plays with the ring. "This? If you recall, I didn’t have one in time for our wedding, but Summer wanted me to wear it and if it makes her happy… Well," he raises his shoulders, "but I am not here to talk about me."

"Too bad," I widen my stance, "when I was sure you were finally here to repent for your sins."

He chuckles, "That would take more time than we have today."

"Oh?" I frown. "I wasn’t aware we were on a timetable."

"The only one that counts, Father." He gestures toward the door that leads out into the garden, "Shall we?"

I frown. "I’m not done here yet."

"You’ll have enough time to commune with God, once we’ve had our conversation."

"That sounds...ominous. Should I be worried?" I glower.

"I don’t know, Father. Should you?" He holds my gaze.

I don’t back down.

Neither does he.

Finally, he steps back, "Look, ten minutes of your time. That’s all I ask."

"Hmm," I rub the back of my neck, "not that I don’t trust you—"

"My ego would be bruised if you did." He chuckles.

"But you are here, and I never turn away anyone who asks me for help."

"Is that what you think?" His lips kick up.

"Isn’t that what this is?"

"Technically, I need you to help me help you, so," he shrugs, "I suppose that would work." He jerks his chin toward the garden, "Come on, Father, let’s talk."

I step forward and he follows me through the priest’s door and into the room behind. I step into my office, then come to a stop. Sprawled around the space are four other figures. I groan. "Is this what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?" Saint drawls from his perch on my desk.

Behind me, Sinclair shuts the door and locks it. I glance at him over my shoulder to see him fold his arms over his chest. Guess leaving that way is out—not that I am going to try it. I’m not a coward. This is only about facing my friends and talking to them, something I’m good at. After all, I’ve done it so many times before, right?

"I think, if you guys wanted to talk to me, you could have called."

"We did." Damian, picks up my phone, from where I’d left it charging on a side table in the far corner. "What’s the use of having a phone, if you don’t carry it?"

"I had other things on my mind."

"I’ll bet." Arpad pushes away from his corner. He walks over to stand in front of me, "It’s what we’re here to talk to you about."

"That’s my dialogue, surely." I laugh. "Every time one of you guys had a crisis, guess who was there to talk some sense into you?"

The others stare at me.

"Exactly." I nod.

"Exactly." Arpad smirks.

"Exactly." Damian chuckles.

I pause, glance around at their faces. "No." I stiffen. "No, no, no, I think it’s time you guys left."

"I think it’s time we find out what’s happening with you." Saint smirks.

"Me?" I hold out my arms, "I’m just fine."

"You don’t look fine." Weston scratches his jaw. "You look like you need to get something off your chest."

"What do you think I was doing just then?" I stab my thumb over my shoulder.

"Praying?" Sinclair frowns. He prowls over to stare at the cross high up on the wall. "Not that we can compete with the man up there. But hey, if He is your Father, we are your brothers…almost…so—"

"Hold on a second." I stare. "Is this you, Sinclair Sterling, pulling the bro-card on me?"

"Is it working?" He smirks at me over his shoulder.

"Not sure." I fold my arms over my chest, "When you guys hunt in a pack like this, it can be quite overwhelming."

"Welcome to the other side, bro." Arpad laughs. "You did us all a favor… Well, all except Baron, considering he missed all the good stuff."

I stiffen. "Let’s not talk about Baron, shall we?"

"Agreed," Saint drawls. "Why don’t we talk, instead, about what’s been causing you to go infinite laps in the pool."

"Who told you that?" I frown. There’s no change of expression on Sinclair’s face, but his eyes gleam.

I blow out a breath. "Summer told you?"

He tilts his head.

"What did she say?" I demand. "It was simply one interaction by the pool—"

"When all you had on was your Speedo—"

"You went swimming in February in an outdoor pool?" Weston stares.

"When do you swim? In December?" I snap.

Weston shakes his head. "Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer—"

"Don’t change the topic, Ed." Sinclair prowls over to me. "You also had a conversation with her in the kitchen of my place."

"Where the girls were listening in..." I raise my eyes skyward. "Of course, they were."

"Before that, she met you at the guesthouse."

"Hey," I scowl, "you keeping tabs on me, or what?"

"And don't forget the wedding encounter." Damian smirks.

"It's Isla." I straighten. "She's the one who’s been sneaking information to you."

"So, there is something to sneak, then?" Saint prowls over to me, "It’s confession time, Ed. Tell us what’s on your mind."

I glare around the room, take in the faces of my friends, the closest I have to family, my brothers, the ones who have had my back since the incident. "Yes." I rotate my shoulders. "Actually, there is something I need to tell you guys."

Saint straightens and steps away from the desk. Damian places my phone back on the table and gives me his full attention. Sinclair, Weston and Arpad glance at me, their expressions ranging from curious to intrigued.

"This is it then?" Saint finally says, "You’re ready to tell us about what’s crawled up your craw?"

"I am." I widen my stance. "Baron; he’s coming back."