The Sinner

By Ava Lohan

A troubled billionaire.

Upon the death of his grandfather, Kegan Anderson inherited New York's most exclusive sex club, a legacy he never asked for, and a convent full of nuns.

A convent in jeopardy.

Kegan has no use for Saint Clare, but it does house one thing he desperately wants. Sister Rose, a novice he glimpsed two years ago, the angel who has haunted his every dream since.

A deal with the devil.

There's more to Rose Davis than meets the eye, and Kegan is determined to show her a life outside of the convent walls. Two weeks at Lust can turn any saint into a sinner. And with the only home she's ever known on the line, Sister Rose has no choice but to agree to Kegan's dirty deal. Fourteen days of submission, and Kegan halts the plans to demolish Saint Clare.

And when it's all over, he'll have no choice but to break her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grey Eagle Publications
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781643669793

Ava Lohan

Ava Lohan is the author of several romance novels published in Italian, German, French, and English. She loves creating sizzling book boyfriends and writing sexy, romantic stories. When she's not busy putting her characters in compromising situations, she reads about bad boys, goes out, and indulges in wild shopping sprees and movie and TV marathons. For more information, visit AvaLohan.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

It should have been a day like any other at Saint Clare. One day closer to taking my vows. Until I did, I wasn’t technically a nun yet, even if I had made the decision to become one when I joined the convent. I had no idea why Mother Superior had called me to her office today.

I don’t know anything, said Sister Matilda—or Sister Ginger, as the other novices called her in honor of her copper locks—as harsh as ever. I just know she asked me to bring you to her.

Sister Ginger had never liked me much. She led the way, and I stopped asking questions and followed her up the stairs. Passing other novices in the hallway, I noticed their curious glances, but frigid Ginger was walking too quickly for me to explain to them that I had been summoned by Mother Superior.

My heart was beating with pure joy, and my face broke into a proud smile. I was the one. I had been chosen for something. It must have been for my devotion.

Mother Superior had definitely warmed up to me over the past two years. Even the other novices noticed she was less severe with me than with the others. She even flashed the occasional smile in my direction. But I had never been called to her office until that day.

I straightened my white dress.

Sister Ginger opened the door to announce my arrival and then left me alone in Mother Superior’s private office.

The first thing I did was look around the room, which I found fascinating since it was my first time seeing it. The only piece of furniture was a dark wooden desk. The warm June sunlight shone through the window behind Mother Superior and a large crucifix hung from the wall behind me, alongside portraits of saints.

Mother Superior stood up as I entered, rosary in hand.

Sister Rose, welcome.

She slipped her rosary over her head and then came to greet me at the door. A strange gesture, coming from her.

This is my private office. What do you think?

I could only nod my head in approval.

She reached out to hold my hands, as if to tell me she was there for me, that I could count on her support. Her smile, however, didn’t match the sadness in her eyes. With the back of her hand, she caressed my cheek. My brow furrowed. It wasn’t like Mother Superior to initiate physical contact with us. Not like her at all. A wave of anxiety washed over me.

Mother, is something wrong?

I tried my best to remember if I had broken a rule, but I was sure I hadn’t.

She ignored my question and made her way to the window.

The gardens look completely different from here. The colors seem more vivid. A small slice of Heaven in a sacred place, in this Hell called Earth. She gestured out the window. Come and see.

I joined her at the window and tried to follow her gaze. The flowers had bloomed a while ago. I enjoyed the many colors, but the garden seemed the same from up here as when I walked through it just moments ago.

Admire the willow, my young Sister.

Unlike her, I felt nothing.

How many times I must have prayed in front of that weeping willow when I was a novice like yourself. She exhaled, lost in thought. Bowing down, just like us before the Lord. What you see is not simply a tree, but a symbol of pain, chastity, and purity. Who knows how much time it has left. She shook her head and left me at the window. Perhaps not much, she said under her breath, her voice cracking.

I shot her a curious glance.

Mother Superior drew in a deep breath to regain her composure, turning back into the woman we had come to know and respect. Our guide through the life we had chosen.

Not knowing what to say, I peered back at the garden, scanning it for anything more interesting than the willow. Something caught my attention: a black car parked in front of the gate. I immediately forgot about the plants and flowers and stared at the vehicle. It must have cost a fortune; a car like that definitely didn’t go unnoticed. I raised an eyebrow and pressed my palms on the windowsill. Nobody ever parked in front of the convent, but here was this luxury car, as out of place as I would have been in a dance club with my white novice dress on. I leaned out the window to get a better look. People passing by stopped to admire it, partially blocking my view. The driver’s door didn’t open, as if nobody were inside.

Mother, you should come and see. There’s a car—

"Salix babylonica. Do you know why they call it that?"

I could feel her staring at my back.

No.

Uncomfortable, I picked at my cuticles. The car was still there, but Mother Superior didn’t join me to look at it.

A real pity, she replied. Allow me to let you in on this Christian legend, the only one you should take into consideration.

Her feet shuffled across the hardwood floor, coming nearer.

"Jesus was making his way up to Calvary. The cross on his back was too heavy, and he fell to the ground. Whipped by the Roman soldiers, he was no longer able to get back up. It was then that a tree took pity on him, bending its branches, allowing Christ to pull himself up. The branches would remain forever bent and the tree was christened the weeping willow, as it too cried for