A fake priest and a Sicilian mob boss at odds. What could possibly go wrong?
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Roman is a life long slacker and a hardcore gambling addict. After learning there's a hit on him, not to mention his fiancé just dumped him two days before their weddi...
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"Would you like to make your confession?"
Saint almost laughed but caught himself. "What's the point of confessing if I don't regret what I've done?"
Confusion married the priest's brow. "Then why are you in a confessional booth if not to offer sacrament of penance?"
"Actually," Saint took a breath and let it out slowly, and then angled his head in the priest's direction. He had a strong sense of dislike for confessional booths, made him feel a tad bit claustrophobic. "Do you have something you want to confess to me, Father?"
"Are you..." The priest started then stopped. He tried once more only to realize he still fell short on words.
What in tarnation was going on here?
"Please, go on."
"Uh, I don't think that's how it works," The priest finally said, chuckling, in case this man thought otherwise. "After all one of the roles of a priest in the confessional is to absolve, and clearly between the two of us I'm the guy wearing robes and a white collar so...let's try this one more time, shall we?"
Saint held the other man's stare for a long moment, then glanced away and laughed low. "Trust me, a few people would disagree, saying you're a wolf playing dress up in sheep's clothing."
A look of surprise crossed the priest's face before his eyes narrowed. "I'm pretty sure they're called Liturgical vestments."
"Semantics, Father, semantics."
Saint had to give the guy credit—he hadn't faltered...yet.
"Do you now want to make your confession?" The priest asked yet again, seemingly unbothered.
When Saint continued to glare without a word, the priest cocked his head. "Whenever you're ready."
Brave or Stupid? Saint wondered. Probably both.
"Bless me father for I have sinned," Saint started with the holy trinity sign. "This morning I had to kill a man," As if on cue, the church bell tolled. "Killed his son first, watched the father break down and then once he finished his little scene, killed him too. Made sure he saw the consequences and let them sink in first."
The priest's breath caught at the enormity of what the man in his confessional was saying, and when the man's emotionless eyes that looked like million hues of rich whiskey intertwined with sage greens collided with his, the priest was ready to call it a day. He didn't sign up for this shit.
"Why did you kill the man and his son?" The priest found himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Simple, he stole from me and the Old Testament is quite clear on how to deal with thieves who are caught stealing red handed, isn't it?" The bell tolled again.
The priest wasn't sure if at all he was supposed to respond to that.
"And I've been told he had an accomplice whom I'm yet to find."
"What are you going to do when you find the accomplice?"
Saint shot him a dull look. "What do you think will happen?"
This was all kinds of creepy, because who the hell spoke about taking a human being's life oh so casual as if he was discussing the previous Serie A football match? When the damned bell echoed off the Cathedral's rustic walls for the third time, the priest's entire body felt ice cold.
A slow, breathtaking smile danced across Saint's lips, and the priest had to force his eyes to look the other way. Reminding himself beautiful or not, the man was a potential psychopath on the loose.
"Are you the accomplice Father Roman?"
The priest reared back as though someone had struck him. "Wait, what?"
"We don't have to wait," those eyes cooking up a storm glared, sizing him up and down. "Did you help yourself to my 50 mil I was keeping in the church vault?"
