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“You’re blushing.” He opens the door for me. “Come on, Angel, before you bite off more than you can chew.”
“Are you sure it’s me that’s bitten off more than I can chew?” I challenge. He steps right into me, taking up all the space, his body pressing flush against mine. I should step back, but I don’t. The air in my lungs freezes when I feel the outline of his cock against my stomach.
“Don’t tempt me, Angel.” He leans down. His warm breath tickles across my lips. “I will bite.”
Okay, maybe it is me that has bitten off more than I can chew.
CHAPTER3
BJORNSSON
“You puther in the Mary room and are feeding her gourmet meals?” Lars frowns. “Should I beat her after dinner?”
“I’d prefer you did not. I like you, Lars, and if you were to hurt her, I would have to cut your throat.” I carve a piece of meat off for myself and shove a bloody piece of wagyu into my mouth.
“What do you plan to do with her? She’s not talking, and Santino will call us.”
“Santino has his own pigeon from which to squeeze his information. He doesn’t need this girl, and at some point, when his dick isn’t dominating his thought process, he’ll realize it.” I eat the last piece of meat and then finish my glass of burgundy. A light chime sounds in the room, signaling an arrival. “Is it that time already?” I glance at my watch. It’s seven, which means Abbott Emerson has arrived. I wipe my mouth and push back my chair.
Lars immediately moves toward the door. My bodyguard takes his job seriously. Abbott Emerson is waiting in the reception room. His slight body is shrouded in his black robes. When his eyes fall on my collar, a small smile touches the corners of his eyes. He holds out his hands. “I see you are keeping the faith.”
I take those old, liver-spotted hands in mine and bend deeply until my forehead hovers just above the backs of them. “As always.”
He removes one hand and places it at the back of my head. “You’re doing well, disciple.” He presses in a downward motion. I take the hint and kneel and raise my cupped palms upward. A small object, a wafer, is placed in them. Abbott Emerson says a blessing. When he is finished, I bring the cupped hands to my mouth and inhale the wafer. Closing my eyes, I give thanks for having caught my very own angel. Lars steps to my side and places a check in Abbott Emerson’s palm. “For the Church, from the Chapel.”
The older man peeks at the amount. Once his curiosity is satisfied, he pockets the offering and takes a seat in the middle of the upholstered sofa. I fill a crystal glass nearly to the brim with thirty-year-old whiskey and hand it to him before taking my own seat.
He savors the first deep gulp before saying, “Whenever I visit, I think it will be my last. How can someone with so many temptations remain pure?”
“I take it you have heard that Kane Santino sent me a gift.”
“A gift? More like a siren.” Abbott Emerson leans forward. “Son, you have made it to thirty without a blemish in your history. You’ve maintained the Chapel like a monastery. Your gifts to the Church are generous. Do not allow your soul to be tainted.”
I rub a finger across my lower lip. The Church does not care if I steal or murder, but lie with a woman and I will be excommunicated.
“My soul remains pure, Abbott, but thank you for watching over me.” I lift my hand, and Lars steps forward with another check. “Please accept this additional gift as penance for any sins I may have overlooked.”
Abbot discreetly clocks the amount before tucking the check away. Since he doesn’t make any remarks, whatever amount Lars put there must cover the amount of sinning Abbott presumes I’ve done.
“Let’s put aside this topic and talk about something else,” Abbott suggests. For the remainder of the visit, he touches on a number of topics from how the current mayor displeases him to his future trip to the motherland. Before he leaves, he blesses the Chapel. “You’re doing well here, Father Bjornsson. Please take good care of yourself as I don’t want to lose even a single member of my flock.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Lars says after closing the door behind the swishing black robes of the Abbott.
“Institutions with international ties always feel that they are more important than local chapters.” I dump the whiskey into the trash and then, after a moment of consideration, toss the glass in there as well.
“They never know what’s happening in their backyards,” Lars complains.
“That’s a good thing.” The less the Church knows about my organization, the better. If they knew the scope of my holdings, it would present a problem, and they would send people in to remove some of my possessions, to try to prove their power over me.
“How much was in the second check?” I ask.
“A couple of zeros,” Lars replies. “I didn’t think you had sinned too badly, but maybe next visit, it will be three zeros.”
“You have no faith in me?” I hadn’t realized my reaction to Angel was that obvious.
“Every man has a weakness.”
“Speaking of, how is the angel doing?”
