LOGIN•Miguel•
“Try this.” I held up the cream-colored blouse, half amused, half annoyed she hadn’t picked it herself. Penelope wrinkled her nose. “That’s something a kindergarten teacher would wear.” I arched a brow. “You work at an orphanage, you teach the children.” “okay, fine.” She snatched the blouse from my hand, brushing her fingers against mine. I couldn't tell if it was accidental or deliberate. I'd convinced her with little effort to go shopping with me and instead of giving me a sense of power all I felt was worry. I leaned against the display table, arms crossed. “You’ve tried on four dresses and rejected ten more. Are you planning to walk barefoot and in prayer robes through Oakridge?” “I didn’t realize this was your idea of fun.” She shot me a sideways glance as she examined another rack, completely ignoring my question. “You don’t strike me as the ‘mall date’ type.” “I’m not.” God, no. I usually sent assistants or ignored clothes altogether. But spending time with her, watching her move in a uncertain manner was the perfect way to spend my day, even though she was more daring now. Her hand paused on a pale blue dress, she ran her thumb down the fabric. “That one,” I said. She sighed. “You like this one too?” “I like you in that color.” She hesitated, then turned to face me. “You haven’t seen me in it.” “I don’t need to.” Her cheeks flushed, but she masked it with a scoff. “You’re insufferable.” “Just try the dress, shell. It is obvious you love it.” “I don’t,” she said too quickly. I stepped closer, just enough that she had to look up at me. “Lying’s not very saintly, Penelope.” Her breath hitched, only slightly. She looked away, picking another hanger off the rack, something grey and shapeless. Ah, finally a defensive move. I didn’t let her escape that easy. “You’d rather blend in or be invisible?” “I just want to enjoy catering for people, what I wear doesn't matter.” she muttered. I didn’t buy it. Not for a second. “Oh, Shell. You haven't noticed your outfit choices have you?” She froze. Bingo. “Check the couches” I kept my voice low. “The skirts you picked hug your curves perfectly, and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear in that innocent saintly way. You'll be catching more attention than you think, princess.” She turned, eyes flashing. “I tuck my hair when it’s in the way.” “No, sweetheart. I'm not trying to brag but I think you do it to gain my attention.” She stepped back, but not fast enough. I caught the way her fingers tightened around the hanger, knuckles white. “You think you’re clever,” she said. “I know I am.” “God’s watching, Dr. Ramirez.” “Sure he is, he's seeing the way your heart is beating so fast at my words and how hard your clenching your thighs right now.” She looked like she wanted to say something biting, something holy, something that would damn me straight to hell but she held her silence. “Try on the blue dress.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if I do?” I smirked. “Then I’ll know you like when I tell you what to do.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the fitting room. I watched her go, the swing of her hips not nearly as modest as she probably thought. I rolled up my sleeves, suddenly needing the cool air. Fuck, I wasn't supposed to have any physical contact with her she made me want to burn and fucking explode. I nearly pulled that fucking skirt over her and stuck my face in between her pussy. Penelope Green, I will make sure the next time we touch you'll be the one begging for it. ~`~ She refused a ride back to the convent, and even though it angered me to accept I did it anyway. I needed to pack for the trip, and make sure everything I planned is in place. I folded the last button-down into my suitcase and was just reaching for my cologne when the front door opened without warning. Damien never knocked, he always claimed it was because I “never answered in time,” but really, it was just his excuse to be a nosy bastard. “Packing already?” he called out, his voice echoing. “You’re not usually this punctual unless you’re chasing—oh, I don’t know—jailbait?” I didn’t look up. “You say it like she's a freaking child, she's twenty-three.” He strolled in already pulling a bottle of my best scotch from the shelf. “Isn’t there a law against going after nuns?” This fucker and his stupid runny mouth. I zipped the case shut and tossed him a flat stare. “If you came here to preach morality, you’re about a decade late.” “You know I always support your conquest schemes but this is fucking insane.” I shrugged off his drama. “Id that's all you've come to say, please leave.” He poured himself a generous glass, took a sip, and leaned against the doorway, conveniently ingoring me. “The elaborate plan you had was to drag a baby nun to a rural town under the guise of “volunteering” and you think nobody suspects a thing?” “She’s not a nun yet,” I said evenly. “You know what's crazy? Mother Superior offered her to me, I only accepted the offering.” Damien snorted. “Sure. Such a sweet caring philanthropist.” I smirked. “The girl wants to come, she enjoys traveling and Oakridge is part of her ‘To Travel List’.” “You’re straight up scary, how do you even know where she wants to travel to?” I turned, adjusting the strap on my duffel bag. “I saw it in her notes, 47 places she wishes to travel to. No funds and exposure and that is exactly why she needs me.” He tilted his head, watching me. “I thought this obsession would end once you left for Turkey and you met their women, but fuck you're still pining over the girl. Does she know you saved her life?” “Not exactly.” I murmured. Damien raised his brows. “You’re fucking in love with her.” I didn’t answer, there was no answer for that. I wasn’t in love with Penelope, that was too shallow a description. She's like Mother Confessor and I was fucking compelled by her, to do her bidding, to worship the air she exhales and kiss the floor she walked on. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re in deep.” “She made a vow.” “Last I checked, she is to make one to God, Miguel.” I met his gaze, slow. “She made a vow to me first.” He blinked. “After the crash?” I nodded once. “She begged me to save her, she gave herself to me. she was mine.” Damien stared at me like I’d just confessed murder, which, in all fairness, wasn’t that far off from how some would see it. “You’re really gonna do this?” he asked finally, quieter this time. I looked down at my watch. “Flight leaves at seven, we'll be in Oakridge by nine.” Damien blew out a breath. “Well, hell. You better pray she doesn’t break your heart and run back to God.” I grabbed my coat. “If she runs, I’ll follow.” He laughed, dry and dark. “That’s the creepiest romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so proud.” He sank into the leather chair by the fireplace, swirling the last of his scotch. “So, how’s the property coming along? That hillside estate you bought near Lake Everly?” “Almost done,” I said, zipping up my duffel. “Interior’s being finished this week. Kitchen tiles just came in.” “Still flipping or keeping this one?” I paused. “Keeping it.” His brow rose. “Interesting. You never keep anything.” I shrugged. “It’s a good spot, it is quiet and has a big yard.” “You planning to settle down there?” He grinned. “Or is it for someone?” I ignored the bait. “I have plans for it.” He sat up a bit. “Plans involving Penelope?” I didn’t answer immediately, just picked up my coat and slung it over my shoulder. “You’re fixing up a whole house for her?” Damien asked, half laughing, half stunned. “Holy crap, fixing a house for a woman you don't know wants you.” “Not this again.” He watched me for a moment. “You ever think she might not want a lake house?” “She does,” I said honestly. “Do you want to know how I know?” He leaned back, exhaling. “Truthfully, no. I'm scared for the girl.” “I’m not going to rush her,” I said. “All I'm doing is keeping things in check for when we are official.” Damien whistled low. “Alright, then. Lake house, huh? What’s next?” “A music studio in Manhattan,” I replied. “She likes music.” That made him go quiet. “You’re building her a music studio?” I didn’t respond, but the look on my face said enough. He let out a dry laugh. “Okay, now I’m worried.” I cracked a small grin and grabbed my watch off the table. “Worry less. Just keep an eye on the real estate end while I’m gone.” “Yeah, yeah. I’ll babysit your overpriced properties. You go play doctor with your future wife.”MatildaFather Jerome called him Reverend Nicholas but when I first met him, he was Mr Nick and there had been nothing revered about him. As I looked at him, a look of recognition crossed his face but he hid it well. “I'll be just a minute,” Jerome was suddenly distracted by something else and excused himself. The second Jerome was gone, Mr Nick raised an eyebrow, “a nun? really?” I bowed my head a little bit, “there is no one God cannot change.” Reverend Nicholas scoffed, then he bent his head lower bringing it close to my ear, “you don't need to pretend with me, hon. I know what you are.” “For you to know me, it means you are not so innocent either, Reverend.” He cleared his throat. “Come around to the back during the closing hymnal,” he said, “for old times sake.” My core shivered in anticipation. Mr Nick had taken my virginity. He had shown me that sex was great when I was only eighteen. And after that day in his workshop, I asked myself why I had waited so long to have
PenelopeThe wind swooshed the bottom of my tunic the second I stepped foot outside. The cold gripped me immediately, making me feel chills so deep I felt like my heart was growing cold. I sneezed, the sound drowned by the heavy rain. I had taken just a couple steps forward when it dawned on me that the umbrella I had taken out was not of much use. Instead it increased the platter of the rain atop my head. It sounded like a thousand tiny pebbles were being thrown atop my head. The strong wind was relentless also, fighting with me for control of the umbrella. It did not help that the handle had become slippery from my wet hands. As I plied forward on the gravel, the bottom of my tunic became drenched in the ankle length flood that had formed because of the rain storm. My heart raced as lightning brightened the sky momentarily followed by the deep rumble of thunder. Unease spread through me as lightning struck a pine tree a couple feet from me. Perhaps it was my imagination but a jolt
Matilda“...you must have seen sister Penelope by now, yes?” Mother Superior's voice irritated my very soul. Still, I swallowed and answered her like I really cared. “I have,” I replied, “I have returned her rosary.” “Did she ask about your cousin?” she asked me, “is she following you to…” “You're breaking Mother Agnes,” I said even though I could hear her clearly, “the service is really poor here. I will call you later.” I ended the call and with a sigh placed the phone in my pocket. Nothing was going my way here. Miguel had completely ignored me earlier, pretending like he did not know me at all. And mother superior? Why couldn't she call Penelope to confirm the details from her? Why me? “Sister Matilda?” I looked up and saw Father Jerome standing in front of me. He was also not going my way.On our way to Oakridge, I assumed I felt a vibe, a certain chemistry between us but I was wrong. He had not done anything to suggest that he was willing to break his vow of chastity an
PenelopeGod was washing away my sins. He was purging me with his rain from above, purging my impure thoughts about Miguel. I began to sob as I ran down the seemingly endless path. I was in so much distress that I could not appreciate the view of the lake as the rain covered the waters above with the one below. At the moment I was experiencing a picturesque nightmare. I tried to run faster, hoping the view of Miguel’s house would come into view but I could not see what was in front of me. The rain blinded me so all I could make out was a blurred view of the pavement in front of me. I stopped momentarily to clean my face and I saw him then—Miguel standing in the rain like a fucking greek god carved like a statue from the classical greek era. Even with my blurred vision, I could still see that he was sexy. He was so sexy that I wanted to strip off the shirt that clung to his upper body, exposing his perfect abs and toned muscles. I wanted nothing more than to gobble this man up and ye
Penelope “Great work today, sister,” Laura, the nurse Miguel had just been flirting with, said to me but my eyes were not on her, they were on Miguel’s departing figure. He looked like he was in a hurry and naturally, I assumed he had been paged for another medical emergency. “Did Dr Ramirez mention where he is going to?” I asked the nurse. A frown crossed her face but she masked it with a smile, “no. Is there a reason you ask?” No one here knew that I was living with Miguel. It would be scandalous if anyone were to find out so I waved the question off casually, “I was just wondering what time I ought to leave. I like to spend my evenings praying.” That was a good lie. The nurse’s smile widened, “of course, sister. Especially after a tragedy like today occured.” I nodded. “Yes, yes.” I looked at the nurse’s face and it looked even purer than my mind was. If only she could see the inside of my mind and realise that I was not thinking of prayer, nor were there any holy thoughts
Miguel“When you married Ramona…” I knew exactly what Damien was going to say so I cut him off before he could finish up the sentence. “Penelope is different from Ramona,” I said, “the way I feel about her is different.” “You were so sure then back too.” “I know what I'm doing, Damien,” I said to my best friend. “I just don't want to see another woman get hurt,” he said to me which brought a frown to my face. “Why do you care so much?” I asked, my arms folded across my chest, “do you like Penelope?” He scoffed, “of course not.” “Won't you invite me in?” he changed the subject quickly. “No,” I said stubbornly, “you're not meant to be here anyway.” “Hey, man! That's not fair.” I walked to the front porch of my bungalow and opened the door, entering without inviting Damien inside. It was not like he needed an invitation to enter my house anyway. Damien walked in freely like he owned the place. His first stop was to my fridge where he brought out a carton of chilled beer and op
•Miguel • The lounge was wrapped in low lights, and smoked coiled lazy spirals above the tables from cigars. I leaned back into the velvet-lined booth, cradling a glass Lagavulin between my fingers, Damien was holding court to my left, a brunette tucked against his side, her fake laugh
•Penelope•“I said no glue near your mouth, Noah.”I pulled the bottle gently from his hands before he could make a second attempt. The boys at Saint Jude’s Orphanage had a creative streak, which was a polite way of saying they spent most mornings testing how close they could get to trouble before
•Penelope • The bell rang three times for afternoon prayer, and I was halfway through shelving the hymns when I headed the footsteps that didn’t seem to belong to any of the children. I stayed facing the shelves. Maybe if I just kept working, whoever it was would go away. But Mother Super
•Penelope• I ignored the tingling between my thighs all evening. It didn’t help that during mass, Father Marshall, bless his soul—suddenly looked like Dr. Miguel Ramirez from the side. Same silver hair, same calm, unreadable expression. I blinked hard, looked back down at my prayer book, and







