Gods & Angels | Sinners of Saint Benedicts duet 1 (dark/bully romance)

Chapter Six

Florence and I walked to the main building first thing Wednesday morning, books in our arms and minds on how to best fall asleep without Sister Felicia noticing.

"I still think googly eyes," Florence suggested. "Woman's eyesight isn't for shit. And I know about eyesight that's not for shit." She pointed wholly unnecessarily to her own glasses.

"Yeah, but she's a nun. She's got like, a sixth sense for this stuff. I reckon behind a book's enough. If you can con her with anything, keep it simple."

"I think-"

But I never did get to find out what Florence thought, because a shower of red, white and pink rose petals rained down around us. The scent was overwhelming. It was gorgeous. They brushed against my skin like the softest caress. I dared not take another step for fear of crushing their beauty.

"Well, you can't say he doesn't go all out," Florence commented dryly.

I nodded. "There are definite perks," I agreed.

Apollo walked out of the main building - conveniently Callahan Hall, named after, yep, his family - and down the steps to me. It seemed he had no qualms about stepping on the hundreds of petals surrounding us like a blanket. I wondered how many Saintlings and how many hours it had taken to collect that many petals. It was just the sort of job Apollo would set for the youngest of the Saints. Once, that had been our job.

"My princess," he said warmly, with not an insincere syllable passing his lips. "You look beautiful."

I grinned. "I look the same as I do every day in my uniform."

Which was nothing special. Blue and grey plaid dress, grey socks and black shoes. My hair, as school policy demanded, was in nothing more than a simple ponytail. A ponytail I'd barely even brushed that morning. Were it just up to the Dean and his faculty, we'd have been allowed to express whatever style we wanted within a flimsy pretence of a school dress code. As it was, Saint Benedicts still answered to the church, and the church cared little for the frivolous whims of the wealthy and elite. They still paid by the bucket load to send their kids to Saint Benedicts, so it was all the same to the nuns.

"As I said, you look beautiful," Apollo said with a big smile.

I nodded, knowing better than to argue with him. "Thanks."

"Well..." he started then snapped his fingers.

A Saintling appeared out of nowhere, running like he was trying not to be seen, and held out a box to Apollo. With his eyes still on me, Apollo took the box and dismissed the Saintling.

"Happy birthday, Harlow," he said, offering the box to me.

Understandably, by now, there were a lot of people who'd stopped on their way to class to see what stunt God was up to now. No doubt a fair portion of them were betting that this was the moment, that there was a giant diamond in that box. Based on Florence's face, she was on the fence. I gave her a surreptitious shake; if Apollo knew me at all, he wouldn't do that at school. Not first thing in the morning. Not before I'd had a cup of tea and a scone - because who woke up early enough for proper breakfast if they didn't have to? And not without warning me.

"You trying to prove something, sweetheart?" he asked with a wry tilt to the corner of his mouth. "Or are you going to take your present?"

I blinked, then forced a saccharine smile. "No, of course. Thank you."

"You know what she's like first thing," Florence said quickly.

Apollo looked at her and a silent moment passed between them. One of those ones that no one else saw outside our little bubble. Had I not known both of them better, I'd have sworn there was a spark between them. A battle of wills that could tighten into an unresolved sexual tension. As it was, there was merely a battle over me going on. Apollo thought he knew me better. Florence knew she knew me better.