Page 122 of Mine to Ruin

“There is nothing left to say.” I ball my hand into a fist around the handle.

“When you marry, you’ll inherit everything.”

I halt and snap my head to him.

“What kind of husband would I be with the blood that courses through my veins?”

“Kian, you’re better than us.” He insists.

“How could I be when through my veins flows the same poison and bad blood?”

I storm away, all that he dumped on me haunting my thoughts. I go into a friend’s club, and drink myself to oblivion.

Chapter 40

Ellia

It’s the worried glances of everyone on my way to the studio that has unease skyrocketing, and Kian not giving any sign and his phone is off makes it even worse. If there is someone who knows why they’re all staring at me, it’s Anna. I stop at the reception desk.

“Oh my god, have you seen it?”

“Seen what?”

She clicks on an online magazine and my heart dips in my stomach. The title, “Too Much Fun for the King of the Night?” says it all. I skim through the article and I huff at their stupid insinuations over Melanie being by his side, two bodyguards shoving at paparazzies. He would not ruin us like that. And Jason is there too, supporting his right side. Worry mingles with anger, and after trying and failing to find my muse, I lock the studio, and go out to grab copies of the magazine. Then I go home and wait for his return.

The door clicks open, and he halts when I throw the magazines at him.

“Was New York fun?” I ask, my voice cracking, and I hate it.

“I have to work.” He tugs at his collar, and I get in his face, and gasp at the bags residing under his eyes.

“This is not you. So, what happened?”

“No, who am I then?” A hint of vulnerability passes his expression. He squeezes his eyes shut, his body shaking with restraint.

I try again, “Kian… What happened?”

He walks past me without a word and throws off his clothes before getting in the shower. I wait for him to come out.

When he does, he says, “I’ll be late. I have some work to catch up on.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I storm after him when he yanks the door open and closes it.

Maybe he slept with Melanie. No, I shake my head. He wouldn’t do that, no. He loves me, which means something huge happened, and it’s killing me he won’t open up to me.

I peek in his office, and Melanie is there, on the phone, as she points at something on his laptop. His fingers halt, sensing me, but he doesn’t lift his gaze. A sigh flees my mouth, wondering how to penetrate the wall he erected.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and reach for Kian but he’s not there. I rush downstairs, my emotions all over the place. He’s already at the door, going out. I say his name, and, in my haste, I trip, missing a step and rolling down the last flight of stairs. I crash with my back on the floor and hiss; the pain shoots from my ankle to my hip and back.

He rushes to me, face ashen. Tears blur my vision. I don’t even know what hurts more, my heart or my back.

He lifts me, and I push at his chest, anger blurring my vision. He places me on the couch, inspecting my ankle and my hip, and I flinch under his touch.

“I don’t think it’s broken or sprained.”

It knocks the breath out of me, seeing the sheer desperation reflecting in his eyes. He’s lost, so lost, how do I show him the way back?

“Where does it hurt?”

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