Page 2 of Ruined

“I’ll make it up to you.”

She looked up, softening. Like she could see the mess in me and still found something worth caring about. She smiled, but it was strained.

I walked out of the restaurant, gripping my phone.Get here now. Bring me dinner. He didn’t ask. He commanded like I was a butler waiting for his call.

He’d made me think I was free for the night. Should’ve known better. The bastard loved reminding me who called the shots. It fed his ego.

A few months ago, I did hits for the Bratva. I wasn’t a whipping boy, I was trusted. Admired. I’d earned the right for others to bring me a glass of vodka and to be saluted and praised. Now? The Bratva was destroyed from the inside out, and I’d been “rescued.”

Cast out. Penniless. And begging my own family—my biological family—for any job. They found me a place in the business, but it came with a price.Dominic Caruso. Old-school mafia with ataste for new money. Dominic was a lifer from Brooklyn. Sharp suits, slick demeanor, and an accent that grated on my nerves. I hated him.

If I could quit, I would’ve tossed his dinner onto the floor at his feet and shot him two middle fingers. But Dominic wasimportantto the Costas. And me? I was the liability. The errand boy pawned off onto that prick just to ensure my loyalties lied with the Italians.

The Costas didn’t give me a second chance because they saw potential in me. They gave me a job because they didn’t know what else to do with me. It wasn’t respect that kept me under their thumb—it was obligation. And if there was one thing I’d learned about family, it was that obligation could feel like a prison just as much as loyalty.

The Costas were respectable businessmen to anyone outside the fold. But I knew better. Behind the tailored suits were men who could slit your throat without spilling a drop on their silk ties. They didn’t look at me and see Luca Costa, family. They saw a stray dog with too much baggage and not enough worth.

We took you in, they’d said.This is your chance to prove you’re loyal to us.

Prove myself? I’d bled enough already to prove I could survive things they couldn’t dream of.

And Dominic loved reminding me of where I stood. Not with words, but with the constant fucking orders. Dinner. Coffee. Meetings I didn’t need to attend. He saw how far he could push me, just to watch me obey. I wasn’t his equal. I was a test. How far could theBratva ratbend before he snapped?

I’d come close. A thousand times.

I lived only to deliver Dominic a sandwich. And I was done with it. He might’ve been my temporary boss, but he didn’t own me.

Enough is enough.

Time to set him straight.

I drove to the casino.

Violent images clouded my brain as I parked. Neon sliced through the dark, jabbing my eyes. Inside, the casino pulsed like a living thing. Slot machines screamed, chips clinked, and someone laughed near the roulette wheel. The perfumed air reeked of desperation. My teeth ground together as I maneuvered through the maze of tables, Dominic’s dinner sweating in my hand. Didn’t bother checking if it was warm. I’d gone to the cheapest deli in walking distance, but Dominic wouldn’t give a fuck.

Two bodyguards stationed outside the high-roller suite gave me a once-over but didn’t stop me. They knew me well enough not to ask questions. Their stares burned into my back as I pushed through the doors and stepped inside.

Dominic’s office was leather and polished wood. He was exactly where I expected him, lounging in his oversized chair like he owned the goddamned world. Tawny hair framed his face in thick, perfect waves, softening his cheekbones. His olive skin glowed in the low light, and his dark eyes anchored me, a black hole pulling me in. He didn’t move. He just looked at me, one arm draped over the chair.

I put the bag on the table. “Here’s your sandwich.”

“Dropped your girl to feed me, huh?”

His silky voice stabbed into me.

I refused to take the bait. “What else do you need me for?”

Dominic didn’t even look up from his sandwich, peeling the foil so slowly it set my teeth on edge. He gestured toward the chair. “Sit. Have a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink. I’m going back to my date.”

His brow quirked. “Night’s already ruined, no sense in going back.”

I glanced at the door. “She’s still there. I’ll catch her if I leave now.”

“She’ll be finished with dessert by the time you get to North End, and parking will be impossible.”

Seething, I leaned over the desk. “Am I done here?”

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