Page 34 of Ruthless Royalty

“Don’t take too long, G,” Connor calls over his shoulder as heheads toward the party. “You might not have as much time as you think.”

I watch him go, my jaw tight, the tension in my chest twisting into something darker. Connor’s wrong. He has to be.

But deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s right.

She’s standing alone, watching the flames of the bonfire, lost in thought. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before I speak.

“Chiara,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

She turns to look at me, and sighs as if she’s expecting another confrontation. “What is it, Giovanni?”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. “Look, about earlier … I didn’t mean to be such an asshole.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. “It’s not about you. It’s—fuck, I don’t know. It’s everything.”

She rolls her eyes and turns away, clearly ready to be done with me. She doesn’t respond right away, just gives me that look—like she’s trying to decide if I’m worth the trouble.

Then she shakes her head, more resigned than anything, and turns to walk away. I can’t let it end like this. Not like this. Not without something more.

I start to follow her, my footsteps quickening as she heads toward the back of the pool house, where the light from the Suite barely reaches. The air is cooler here, quieter, with only the faint sound of water lapping against the pool tiles.

“Chiara,” I say, my voice softer now, but she doesn’t stop,doesn’t even turn around. It’s like she’s trying to put as much distance between us as possible, and I can’t have that.

Before she can say anything, I reach for her wrist, pressing her back against the wall of the pool house and caging her in with my arms on either side of her.

“What are you doing?” she demands, her voice more steady than I expected, but I can see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Just making sure you’re listening,” I murmur, my face inches from hers. “You’ve got this habit of walking away before I’m done talking.”

“Well, maybe you should say something worth listening to,” she snaps back, her eyes narrowing in defiance. But there’s a heat in her gaze that tells me she’s not as unaffected as she’s trying to appear.

“Careful,Micetta,”I warn, my tone low, teasing. “You might hurt my feelings.”

She scoffs, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t have feelings, Giovanni. Just an ego the size of the whole damn school.”

I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Maybe. But you seem to have a knack for getting under my skin, Chiara. It’s almost like you enjoy it.”

“I enjoy making your life difficult,” she retorts, her chin lifting defiantly. “Someone has to.”

“Is that what you think you’re doing?” I ask, my eyes locking onto hers, searching for that spark I know is hiding beneath her bravado. “Or are you just trying to keep me at arm’s length because you’re afraid of what happens if you let me in?”

She falters for just a second, and I catch it—her breath hitching, the way her eyes flicker down to my lips before darting back up to meet my gaze.

“Not everything is about you,” she says, her voice a little lesssteady now. “Sometimes, people just don’t want to be around you.”

“Doubt it,” I say, my tone softening as I let my fingers brush against her wrist, feeling the pulse quicken beneath her skin. “But I don’t think that’s what this is about. I think you’re just scared of what happens when you finally admit you don’t hate me as much as you want to.”

She stares at me, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to figure out if I’m playing some kind of sick game. And maybe I am, but it’s one I’m fully invested in.

“You’re delusional,” she mutters, shaking her head as if she can will away the tension between us.

“And you’re infuriating,” I counter, letting my lips curve into a teasing smile. “But you can’t deny there’s something here, Chiara. Something more than just hate.”

She’s silent for a moment, her eyes never leaving mine, and for the first time since we started this twisted dance, I see the walls she’s put up starting to crack, just a little. And it’s enough to make me lean in and whisper, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

But she doesn’t, and that’s all the answer I need.

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