Page 35 of Taint My Soul

When I return home, he’s already waiting at my apartment with his lap dog standing by his side. And I can’t help but imagine how this apartment should be my haven. It’s supposed to keep the monsters and nightmares away, but it draws them to me like I’m a beacon.

I must be cursed.

There’s something wrong with me.

Something disturbing about my soul that when people see me, they always want to take and take and hurt and hurt me.

“How will you fix this?” Vincent demands, cigar trapped between his hands. He barely looks at me, but I’m not a fool to ignore the rancid tension in the air.

“I still have the job at the company. That must be enough, right?” My voice quivers as I explain.

“And what happens if he decides to fire you tomorrow, huh?”

“I’m sorry, please. I’ll find a way to get him back.”

He laughs. The sound, ugly, scornful, and belittling, slips out of him, cutting deep into me. “You think he’ll really come back for someone like you. You are worthless.” He looks at Neo.

“If you blow this, you’re back at the auction house.”

The threats sit low in my chest, pressing deep and stealing my breath away. I’m stuck in the loop of his pernicious words that I don’t even realize when he leaves the apartment with Neo.

Threats. Threats. Threats.

That’s all I have known my whole life.

Do this, or you die.

Tell someone how you got those bruises in this house, and I’ll make this worse for you.

Threats. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for me to be done with it all. I mean, there’s no point in living when I have chains shackled to my hands and pulling me in directions out of my control.

If this will end with my death, then maybe I should go out on my own terms.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SAINT

Behind me, a wrought-iron gate flanked by obsidian pillars opens into a driveway lined with rows of cypress trees. The floodlights of my car light the long tar-paved driveway. At the end of the drive, the mansion rises like a fortress, with balconies overseen by elaborate ironwork.

Bernard parks the car in front of the house. I step down from the vehicle and stride toward the double oak doors. Stepping inside, marble floors stretch wide, veined in gold and silver, catching light from a massive crystal chandelier suspended in the air.

Commissioned portraits of past family leaders line the walls. The scent of polished wood, aged leather, and something darker lingers in the air. Dark velvet furniture sits in the space with a fireplace carved from black marble, flames dancing behind the glass, adding warmth to the house.

Floor-to-ceiling windows flank private gardens and fountains, creating a sense of tranquility. Behind the expansive living room, a staircase leads upstairs, its black railing gleaming.

I’m here.

Home.

Father had set up a family breakfast with my bride-to-be’s parents, so I had to check in with the family before I drove to the office.

Since that night, since he took me into the bathroom and held my hand over that sink, I have never been the same.

Keeping my distance is the best way I can curb this feeling inside of me. Besides, I couldn’t fire him because I had already dismissed Kurt, and I didn’t want my father asking questions I didn’t have answers to.

As I step through the dining hall’s door, everyone’s already sitting around the table.

“Saint.” My sister, Livy, smiles, remaining seated beside my father. She’s a carbon copy of our late mother. My brothers, Cross and Virgil, look up mechanically from their seats. I walk around the polished table, taking in the two unfamiliar faces before I sit with everyone.