Page 51 of Ruined

Not with my family. Or the bastards who’d taken me. Not even here, in this room, with Dominic pretending like he could make sense of the mess inside me.

I saw red. My fists clenched, and I stormed away from him. I barreled into the bathroom, slamming the door. The walls closed in around me, and my heart pounded.

Pacing, I gritted my teeth. The bathroom was filled with the scent of Dominic. He’d invaded every part of my life, and now he was in my fucking head.

I stared in the mirror, loathing my reflection. Hated how the collar of his shirt sat perfectly on my neck, how polished I looked.

Ruined.

I swung at the mirror.

The glass shattered, splintering into a web of jagged cracks. Pieces of it fell into the sink. My knuckles stung, a few shards sticking to my skin.

My ribs squeezed until it hurt to breathe. I thought of my parents, and all the memories we’d never make because the Bratva murdered them. They stole my childhood. They made me into a man I despised.

I balled my fingers around the shards. I squeezed, and blood dripped down my fist. It was like opening the valve on a pressure cooker. I groaned.

I shook off the bloody pieces. Then I ripped off the shirt from my back, balling it in my fist, and hurled it in the corner. Let him get the bloodstains out.

THIRTEEN

LUCA

Dominic avoided me all night.

It probably had something to do with my sliced up palms and the blood all over his shirt. If he had a problem with that, he could leave. He constantly told me I shouldn’t hide. Unleashing my demons for the first time in weeks felt good. I slept amazing. I figured he’d be long gone in the morning.

Wrong.

I woke up to clinking dishes and roasting coffee. I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, ready to sneer at Dominic, maybe pick another fight with him.

A shirtless Dominic leaned against the counter, a mug in his hand. Steam rose from the cup as he took a slow sip. His back muscle rippled as he turned around.

“Morning. Latte?”

My throat tightened. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He turned around, showing off his arms and pecs. Fuck, he was built. Veins popped from his biceps as though he’d just workedout. My breathing hitched. I hated the way my body reacted to him.

“I’m not some guy off the street,” he thundered, eye-fucking me. “I’m your boss.”

“Oh, are we pretending again?”

Dominic’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You stopped feeling like a boss when you started redecorating my kitchen.”

His lips curled. “Oh yeah?”

I folded my arms. “Yeah, and if you’re pulling rank, put on a damn shirt first.”

Dominic’s smirk deepened. “You think a shirt’s going to make this easier, sweetheart?”

“It’ll make me less pissed off. I mean, what are you trying to prove, walking around half-naked?”

Dominic sneered. “Fuck off with your homophobic shit. I’m getting comfortable, not trying toseduceyou. You, on the other hand, look like you’re trying very hard not to look at me.”

He made me want to rip out my hair. “I don’t care that you fuck men. Just put on a goddamn shirt.”

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