Page 90 of Mine to Ruin

“Happy birthday!”

I grunt a thank you. It was yesterday, but details never really mattered for her when it came to me. The reason for my mother’s call is something else entirely.

“I am organizing a Christmas dinner. Be there with your girlfriend,” she says.

“The yearly pretense show… Maybe I’ll skip this year.”

She gasps, but quickly recovers and admonishes, “Don’t be ungrateful.”

I hang up before I lose my patience with her, but then my grandfather calls. Apparently, there is something he needs to discuss with me, but not on the phone.

Ellia stirs in my arms, and I let her warmth spread through me. I can’t help myself as I lower my head and trail kisses across her neck, chin, cheek, and lips. Her lashes flutter open, and those blue eyes that own me peer at me, a bright smile plastered on her face. I’m glad I’m laying down, because she knocks me off my feet. She rolls on her stomach, her hands supporting her chin.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?”

I love her more with every minute. It has been the best birthday. I nod, muted by the raw feelings she ignites in me, and take her lips with mine. She lets out a relieved breath out.

Too soon, she gets out of bed, saying over her shoulder, “I made plans with Tara for lunch.”

I cross my hands behind my neck, watching her tame those locks of hers with a brush. I cock my head and follow the dip of her shoulder, the curve of her breasts.

“Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind?”

Her brows draw together, and she presses her mouth into a firm line. She turns around and points the brush at me. “Don’t even try it.”

I approach her, and she ducks and tries to pass me, but I wrap my hands around her waist, and she melts into me. My lips find her hair, and I plant a kiss there.

“Have fun, angel. I love you.”

“Kian?” she asks over her shoulder on her way down the stairs. “I love you, too.”

And I’ll make you mine officially, soon, I promise myself. My phone rings. And Melanie’s cries pierce my ear the moment I pick up.

“I-I...” Her disoriented voice slaps me out of my dreamlike state.

“Are you at home?”

“I am, yeah, I am home, I think, no, I am,” she slurs.

Fuck this. I thought we were done with this.

I gather a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and pick up my keys on my way out, passing Ellia in the living room as she grabs her bag.

“Angel, something came up.”

I speed up to her complex, and the doorman lets me in. I take the elevator up to her floor, and Melanie opens the door.

Her glassy, unfocused, brown eyes blink at me. I rake a hand through my hair and ask, “Not this shit again. Why, goddamn it?”

She trudges to the sofa and drags her knees to her chest, and her lower lip wobbles. I take a seat next to her and lean forward, resting my elbows on my legs and steepling my fingers.

“You seem happy with her,” she says in an almost inaudible voice.

“I am.”

“What does she have what I don’t?”

There is no good way to answer that. She’s just not the one. Ellia is my everything.

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