Page 75 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

“Honestly, I’m fine.” I smile flatly. “And we really don’t have time for this.”

He glances at me as I join him. A flicker of shock, or something similar, slackens his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared. I don’t get the chance to puzzle it out because he averts his gaze and sighs and says, “I know. You cannot fit everything into one day. But some things you should try.”

“You’d be surprised at what I can fit in.”

Why did I say it like that, all sultry and saucy? Doesn’t that go against what I’m trying to do? Or is it exactly what I want to do?

Fuck me, I’m horny again.

My facial expression makes him laugh, small and deep and beneath his breath.

“Only you can get away with saying such words,” he murmurs.

We’re so close.

Movement outside draws our attention. A nun tries to push inside but struggles with two baskets of herbs and vegetables in her hands.

Cisco rushes to open the door for her. Wind blasts in, hitting our cheeks.

“Ciao, Sorella Edith,” he says. “Do you need help?”

She startles and pauses at the threshold, black robes snapping inside before her body. Her wind-burnt cheeks grow brighter.

“Hello, Sister Edith.” I smile to hide the alarm prickling my skin. “Everything okay?”

I look through the glass panes, searching for danger outside. With everything going on, I haven’t checked that our security checks continue at the estate.

She throws a ginger glance my way as Cisco detangles her robe from the door and then closes it. He uses the action to murmur something to her privately. Her shoulders visibly drop, and she smiles at him.

“Ti do la mia benedizione.” He nods, then translates. “I give you my blessing.”

She turns her smile briefly on me and then heads toward the kitchen.

“What did you say to her?” I ask the moment she’s out of earshot.

“I give you⁠—”

“No, before. In her ear. It made her smile.”

“That is between a priest and his penitent.”

“Cut the shit.”

“It’s no shit.”

“You know what I mean.”

His amusement dies. “I do not share a penitent’s private words. But I can tell you that I promised her I would be taking the sacrament of reconciliation this evening, same time as usual in the church.”

“Presumptuous of you.”

“Presumptuous?” He seems to think about it. “No. I am not the one who will be injured in this fight—you are too soft.”

My jaw clicks shut. That’s not what I meant, and he knows it.

Smirking, he walks in the direction of the gymnasium.

Twenty-Six