Page 47 of Taint My Soul

I stand and stalk toward the polished wooden door, gripping the handle and stepping into the cool room. I was right. It’s his home office. A desk sits in the center of the space with a leather seat behind it. At the far end of the wall, books are arranged neatly on shelves by color grading. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that Saint loves having his things in order.

I look around the shelves and only find books that date back to his university days. Textbooks and notebooks. He has decent handwriting. I put the book back and turn to his drawer, pulling them open one after the other.

Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this.

What if he walks into the house? What if this is a fucking test? I’ve seen exactly what happens to men who cross him. I’ve seen how he deals with them. So why the fuck am I here snooping through his things, knowing full well what he’s capable of?

Bingo!

My fingers thread around the paper, eyes hovering over the words printed on it. It’s a letter of proposition. Some CEO whom I have never heard of. I pull out my phone and take a picture. I put it back exactly how I found it and shut the drawer.

Although this isn’t something damaging enough. I hope the name Prince Kane will mean something to Vincent.

SAINT

My hands come against the door of the maisonette glass house. It’s my youngest brother’s place. He’s a creative. He prefers to live in the quiet solitude of the city’s hills. The door clicks twice before it opens, and I flash a full teeth smile at him.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” He frowns.

“Can I stay the night, please?” I plead, and he steps aside, letting me into the house. Behind me, the door shuts, and we both walk down the foyer to the large living room. He has two canvases propped up in the space. One finished. One unfinished. Cross discovered art outside of family legacy. His talent. Something he could run to when life got scary. Something he can express himself with. And I loved it for him.

But me, the only thing I have is fucking violence.

No talent. Nothing.

“Did Virgil pass on the information?”

“Yes, I’ve started looking into him.” He settles down opposite me and adjusts the glasses on his nose. “You shouldn’t get drunk. Not when we have so much at stake. Father wouldn’t like it.”

“Well, father isn’t here, Cross, and quite frankly, fuck him.” My voice is quiet as a sad, painful laughter escapes me. Cross’s nose scrunches, brows lifting in shock before he joins me in laughter.

“Fuck him.” He leans back on the couch. “I’m sorry the place is messy. If I’d known you’d come over, I would have kept this in the painting room.

My eyes drop to the canvases a few feet away from us. Paint brushes and paint smudge the white fabric covering the floor. “Have you gotten anywhere with what you’re working on?”

“No.” He answers quietly.

I lift my hand toward the other painting. The one he’s finished. It’s a red bird trapped in a round hanging cage. Feathers lie unevenly at the bottom. Almost at the bottom of the cage, there’s a little exit, large enough for the bird to fly through. Just outside the cage, there’s another bird. It’s a replica of the caged bird, and it’s flying freely.

“What does this mean?” I ask Cross. He rises to his feet and folds his arms, staring at the painting a bit longer than he should. “The red bird represents desire. Caged desire. He has the option to escape and fly freely.” He points at the exit. “But he remains trapped because he’s too terrified of flying. Because he believes that there’s no better feeling than being in this cage.” He steps closer to the painting. “But it costs him something, you know.” He points at the fallen feathers and looks at me.

“I guess the other one represents freedom.” I make an odd sound and stare at the painting a little longer. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He hums. “I think I should take you to bed. Come on.”

“Right.” I nod. He closes in on me, helping me up and putting his hands around my shoulders. As he takes me upstairs, I pat him and whisper. “I’m sorry I don’t visit you a lot. I really suck as a big brother.”

“No problem at all. I understand. You’re really busy.”

He stops and faces me when we reach the landing. “We should hang out sometime.”

“Well, there’s an art exhibition coming up. I can get you a ticket if you want.”

“Alright.” I belch.

He leads me up to his bedroom and helps me into the bed, covering me with the sheets. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be downstairs.”

“Alright.” I smile and wave at him.