Page 8 of Forgive Me, Father

I’m consumed with this desperate, aching need. I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. I’ve had women in my life, before I became a priest. I didn’t enter the seminary until after university. I had girlfriends in high school. I had several in university. Never anything serious.

Never anything like what I feel for Olivia Marino.

I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And now, technically, she’s mine for the night.

To protect, I remind myself sternly.To keep safe. Not to claim.

But even as I think the words, they don’t feel true. I’m lying to myself. Because I do want to claim her. I want to make her mine in every way possible.

I feel like I’m being ripped to shreds, the battle over what I want and what I should do tearing my soul into little pieces. I’m about to come apart at the seams. I’m a priest. I shouldn’t wantanyone. And yet, I’d happily burn in hell if I had any indication Olivia wanted me, too.

I’m too obsessed with her. Too in love. The faintest green light, and I’ll charge ahead, cock first. I won’t be able to stop myself. I know I won’t.

A soft knock at the door has me turning from the window, my heart fierce and wild in my chest. She’s here.

I toss back the rest of my whiskey.

God help me.

Four

Olivia

“This way, please.” The kind woman who sat with me in the hotel suite while my auction took place opens the door and gestures for me to follow her.

I’m shaking. My heart is pounding. I might throw up.

What have I done?

I’ve made enough money to save Alessandro, but now I have to go through with…with…

You can do this. It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’ll be over in less than an hour.

I swallow, my mouth dry, and clutch my long coat tightly around myself as I rise from the chair. This whole ordeal is almost over. I made it through the humiliating exam to verify that I was actually a virgin. I passed all of the health checks. The money from the auction—minus the site’s cut, of course—will be in my account by tomorrow morning. By this time tomorrow, Alessandro’s debts will be cleared.

It’s a small price to pay to keep my brother from getting killed by the mafia. What’s virginity but a social construct,anyway? It doesn’t matter. None of this matters, beyond doing what I need to do for my family.

I keep telling myself that, my stomach a hollow cavern inside me as I follow the woman to the elevator. She pushes the button, and we wait in silence until the doors slide open.

The elevator car is sleek, with mirrored walls that don’t allow me to hide from my pale, wide-eyed reflection. This is the kind of hotel I could never afford on my own. Shame I won’t get to truly enjoy it.

We ride the elevator in silence, and a part of me wonders what would happen if I just left. If I made a run for it. Probably nothing, but the money wouldn’t be in my bank account in the morning, and I’d be left facing the same problem.

I take a deep breath. Nausea churns my stomach. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest. I watch as the lighted numbers on the panel climb higher and higher. My stomach swirls sickly, my mouth watering, and I swallow. I try to steady my breathing, try to stop my hands from shaking, but it’s no use.

I’m a mess of nerves and fear.

Why did I think I could do this? I’ve never even kissed a man before, never mind doing…

The elevator chimes softly, and the doors slide open on the twenty-second floor. I force myself to step out, my legs wobbling beneath me. The hallway stretches out, endless and daunting. All I see is cream and gold patterned carpet, white doors, and dim lighting. My vision swims momentarily, and I blink.

“Room 2212,” says the woman, who remains in the elevator. “He’ll be expecting you.” She smiles kindly, and then the doors start to slide shut.

I could leave. No one is forcing me to stay. I could walk out into the night and not look back.

And then Alessandro might be dead.

I suck in a shuddering breath and start heading toward room 2212, my legs heavy. I fiddle with the belt of my coat, my palms slick with sweat. I can’t stop the shaking in my hands, the quiver in my steps. This is it. There’s no turning back now. I approach the room, the black numbers stark and cold against the white of the door. I take a deep breath, trying to summon some semblance of courage.

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