Page 1 of Sweet Temptation

PROLOGUE

Four Years Ago

I stare down at the blood soaking my hands with a grim expression. Emily's lifeless body lies beside my feet, her gaze staring at nothing.

I hate this. Taking her life wasn't what I wanted, but I did it because she knew too much. Things an ordinary girl shouldn't know—not about my life at least.

I'm eighteen years old, and this is the first time I have ever taken a woman's life. I never had to—it isn't necessary, or even remotely acceptable in my opinion—but I did what I was asked like I always do.

I bring my gaze back up to my brother's face, and my lips thin into a line as the blood soaking my hands continues to drip onto the concrete below.

"Necessary for many reasons, and one day you'll understand why," my brother mutters, taking the sharp blade I used to slice Emily's throat from my blood-covered hands.

Easy for him to say; he's never been so taken by a woman that he would do absolutely anything to keep her safe. His words mean nothing to me.

All I hear is the sound of the blood smacking the floor and all I see is the crimson leaking from the wound in my girlfriend's neck.

My youngest brother stands next to Damien, with no sign of life in his eyes. I believe he was born like that, with no emotion, no light. He's fifteen; he shouldn't be staring at a body with no remorse or even care for the life that was taken.

The sound of heels clicking down the concrete stairs causes my head to snap up and my eyes to collide with my mother, Margarita Saint—the head of the household and the queen of the mafia world. She's the only woman who has ever received the title of capo after her husband's passing. But she definitely makes up for the rumours. She's merciless. I believe Soren's emotions come from our mother because she has none.

"Clean up this mess, Damien. I have guests coming for dinner, and I don't want my dining room to reek of the dead," she snaps as her eyes fall to the lifeless girl at my feet.

Like I said, no emotion and no care in the world.

My father died when I was ten. I wasn’t even close to the age of initiation, but my mother didn’t care. Upon our eleventh birthday, Damien and I were initiated—we were given a corpse to dispose of, and then we were forced to kill before the age of fourteen.

Soren was the same—initiated at eleven years old. We never did get a childhood. Our father died, and we were forced to become men before we were even ready.

"Clean up your brother as well. From the look on his face, he needs someone to bathe him," my mother grinds out when her eyes land on mine.

I shake my head in defiance. Looking weak gets you killed, and I'm not fucking weak. I'm a Saint, and Saints don't show weakness. "I'll wash after I help him to get rid of the body," I reply, making sure I hide my emotion from her.

Margarita nods, apparently satisfied with my answer, as her eyes shift to Soren. "Can you manage to make this place look good, or do I need to force the maids to do it and then kill them for too much knowledge?"

My youngest brother grunts out a reply as his eyes narrow, but he says nothing about the way she speaks to him. Instead, he grabs a mop and some bleach from the corner.

Lifting Emily's lifeless body from the floor, I throw her over my shoulder and let Damien lead the way out the back door and into our creepy backyard.

"She almost saw your weakness. You got to watch that if you don't want her on your case for the next few years." Damien chuckles while we trek down the pathway that leads to the riverside.

I throw my twin a glare before we stop at the riverbank, and I stare down into the circling black water.

My eyes come to the girl in my arms, with lifeless eyes and no movement. I could have saved her. I should have saved her. But if I had, it would have been my body being tossed into the river.

And I can't afford to die. I can't afford weakness, either. Emily Freeman was my weakness, but I won’t ever make that mistake with a woman again.

Weakness gets you killed, and I will never let that happen. A robot with no emotions is better than having a heart and weakness for a miserable woman.

I toss her body into the river, then turn to my brother and blink away every last emotion on my face.

I vow to myself that I will never be weak again.

ONE

My eyes flutter open at the blaring sound of my alarm screaming throughout the room. Slowly, I pull myself out of bed, slamming the off button on the clock in irritation. Third day of college, and I'm still not ready to face all the curious faces in the halls.

"Hanna!" my grandmother calls from behind my closed door. Groaning in annoyance, I slowly look up at the door, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth out of pure nervous accord. Another day, another fucking argument.