Page 31 of Brutal Devil

“Say that you understand how important this is.”

“I understand,” I agree tonelessly.

I do. But not in the way he means.

I bite my lip, staring forward, not looking at Saint’s feral expression.

I look at the driver as a last resort, but he’s calm and as emotionless as a statue. Pretending like he hasn’t heard a thing. Like this is a Saturday night Uber ride and he’s brought us to where we want to get out at the club.

“Look at me when you say it,” Saint demands.

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to kick him. I want to run.

But instead, I jerk my head toward him. “I understand.”

And then, in an instant, I turn into someone else.

Someone who headbutts Saint Andriani in the nose. Everything happens so fast. I scramble for the door, and then I’m leaping out of the G-Wagon onto the pavement, the warmth of the morning sun hitting me and reminding me I’m still alive. There’s a crowd gathered. Women in dresses and heels, men in suits. They look like they’re here for a funeral.

Maybe mine, because Saint is growling and swearing, holding one hand over his nose as he lunges from the back seat of the car. Blood is gushing from between his fingers.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

I break into a run, tearing off down the sidewalk, desperate to make my escape. Pain shoots through my feet, but this is my only chance. My heart is pounding as I turn the corner and sprint down the side street. I may as well be running on spikes. These shoes weren’t made for this kind of punishment, and neither was I. But that doesn’t matter. I’m hurtling myself forward with desperate purpose, arms pumping, feet pounding on the concrete.

Until my ankle overturns and I’m pitching forward. Before I can go headfirst into the pavement, I’m snatched up by an oversized Andriani. I’m not even sure which one.

“Wrong way,” he growls and then throws me over his shoulder.

And I instantly know who it is. He smells like pine trees and citrus and everything bad and good rolled into one. He’s in a black suit that fits him perfectly, clinging to his tight ass.

“Priest,” I gasp, the blood rushing to my head as he starts walking with me.

Long-legged strides that bounce me with every step.

“Put me down,” I demand when he refuses to answer me.

Still nothing. He just keeps walking, taking us around the rear of the cathedral.

I pound on his back.

That gets his attention. He smacks my ass. Hard.

“You don’t make demands of me.” Another spank. “And you don’t make problems for me.”Spank.“Understand?”

We’ve reached a door, and he opens it, stepping into the church.

My ass stings and so does my pride.

“Fuck you,” I tell him, blinking back tears as the grim reality of my situation hits me.

I haven’t escaped.

I’m trapped.

And I have no choice but to marry this monster.

He sets me on my feet abruptly. I have a second to take in my surroundings now that I’m right-side up. We’re in a shadowy little hallway with a black-and-white-tiled floor. It smells like musty church. The far-off strains of an organ are playing somewhere above us. We’re in the cathedral’s underbelly.