Reluctant Saint Novels & Stories

“Do you understand what I’m saying? They could’ve killed you!” Was I supposed to be grateful they didn’t? “And? I mean it’s not like my life is worth living anymore,” I yelled, then took two steps back. “You can still do it now.” I raised my two hands. “Please shoot me and put me out of my misery. Please…” Salvatore looked at me with a blank expression before it morphed into something that had an uncanny resemblance with regret. “Let’s go in, the night is chilly. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“No matter how much you want to pretend otherwise, she’ll always be mine. You’re nothing but a placeholder.” My breath hitched. I felt the blood drain from my face, my hands trembling. Saint’s words were like knives, cutting deep. But what was worse? The fact that I didn’t disagree. In some twisted way, he was right. My attraction to Saint, my inability to resist him, it all made Luca feel like a bandage, something temporary to cover up the wound Saint had left behind. I knew I could never be with Saint because he had a girlfriend, we wouldn't match.

“It wasn’t that serious. Just something… stupid. That’s all.” Something stupid. The words hit Araceli like another punch. Something stupid. The thing she had to stop herself from crying about every night. The humiliation she had been dragging behind her like a chain. The moment that shattered her soul and left her wondering if she had done something so wrong to deserve such cruelty. It was just something stupid. Was this really the man God destined for her? She almost asked it aloud. But the thought alone made her ashamed. No. No. She couldn’t think like that. Father Ambrose never made mistakes. He had been her compass since she was born. Her religious and moral guide. Why would he lie?

Zara’s gaze flickered toward the crowd. Her mother. Eyes glassy. Emilia. Frozen still. Chantel and Kemi. Watching her with silent strength. And Regan… just beside her. She could feel the heat of him. The conflict in him. The uncertainty. The priest’s voice faded into the background. Do I really belong here? The moment drew nearer. The vows loomed like a wall she couldn’t climb over. The priest turned to Regan. “Do you, Regan Kareem, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife…”

“I’ll see that you have a permanent job and a place to stay, given you’re sober.” Fuck. What am I doing? Pushing my hands deep into my pockets, I stared at him. His jaw had gone slack, and he stared back at me. I didn’t have to do this. Offering to pay his debt so he would testify was within reason, but offering a job? I turned and walked away. I wasn’t furious at Martha Pennington anymore. The woman might have failed my father, but she won as a mother. Yes, that was it. My chuckle was humorless. She helped my mother to save her son.

Saint held the door for her, like the filthy gentleman that he was in his heart, and they went over to Satan’s, chatting the whole way. He was an easy person to talk to, she’d found, unpretentious, funny, irreverent sense of humor. She could see why the ladies loved him, and sure enough, despite the fact that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, they’d barely cleared the door before two women launched themselves across the room at Saint.

She looked up at Conor with a delicate, fragile expression, tears glistening in her eyes as she bravely held them back. "You can rest assured that even though my family doesn't have much and that you're a rich heir, I'm not going to try to get money out of you for this tiny scrape. I may be poor, but I still possess my dignity!" Connor stared down at her, saying coldly, "I have an excellent lawyer who is good at handling staged-accident scams. Do you care to see for yourself?" Julie's expression froze before she scrambled to her feet and hurried to my side. "You can't accept handouts like this! Otherwise, you'll completely lose your self-respect! What matters most in this life is your reputa

“And that is why you do your damn best to control it.” “You will say no such thing to me!” Kate exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. Luke stood in the corner, completely composed. Some women and men were approaching him already, and he could see that they wanted to talk business. He shook his head. Abigail had so much to learn, and the fact that his mother was against him marrying her would make her sink deeper into the metaphorical social drain. Meanwhile, Abigail had taken to ignoring the two women behind them. “Hello.” Someone touched Abigail gently. “Are you the Abigail Vandell?”

Rodrigo says in an attempt to resolve the situation. But Saint is a fool who thinks it's wise to challenge me, and he continues to speak. "No, I know what I'm talking about. He acts like a god. Do you see him? It's not my first time doing business with him, but he acts this way all the time. You know what? I'm tired of this whole fucking thing. I refuse to do business with him. I'm out," he says and stands up. "You can't leave, Saint. We're in the middle of closing a deal. How can you just walk away?" Rodrigo stands up as he tries to persuade him.

Saint shrugged. "Cultist?" Tino asked, shocked. "Oh you have no idea," Saint's eyes thinned into a meaningful gaze. "I'm thinking of visiting that Church tommorow. It's hightime I saw your brother in person." Tino nodded. "The Church door is open," Saint hummed, returning to his phone. "You ain't following?" Tino looked at him, precisely scissoring the beef. "I already stepped Church on Dean's wedding, and that's gon' be the last time. I'm not a religious fool." Saint groaned, still on his phone.