Page 100 of Carved in Ruin

His hand brushes mine and I look up. “If you’re my poison, Mila, then I’ll take you every day. Every hour. I’ll drink you down until there’s nothing left of me. I don’t care. I can’t live without you.”

“Rafael, your love for me will destroy you. One day, you’ll wake up and realize you’re lying next to the person who killed your father.”

“Youdidn’t kill him. You were just a girl. It washim. Your father took his life, not you. And I know it doesn’t erase the guilt you carry, but it’s the truth. I see you, Mila. I see the woman you’ve become. The woman who saved me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away. “You don’t know if this will work. What if we’re just too broken?”

“Then we’ll be broken together. I’ll take every shattered piece of you and hold it until it fits. I’ll fix it, Mila. I’ll fixus. But don’t ask me to let you go. I won’t.”

His words break something in me, and before I can stop myself, I’m crying. He pulls me into his arms, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair. “More than anything. More than myself. Let me prove it to you.”

I don’t know if I can risk my heart breaking again. But as I sit there, wrapped in his arms, a small part of me, the part that still hopes, wants to try.

Forty

Peace

Mila

It’s been two months since I decided to give Rafael a chance, and they’ve been the best two months of my life. The kind of happiness I never thought I’d deserve, let alone feel.

My lecture wraps up, and while everyone lingers to talk or say goodbye, I grab my bag and slip out. My feet carry me outside, heart racing like it always does when I know he’s waiting for me. And there he is, leaning against his car, looking utterly delicious, like a vision carved out of my fantasies.

I barely make it to him before I press a kiss to his mouth. Rafael deepens it before I can pull away, his hand curling possessively around my waist. My heart swells. True to his promise, the past is never brought up again. With him, I don’t feel guilty every second of the day anymore. We buried the past, live in the present, and for the first time, I’m looking forward to the future.

“How’s the project going, Mila?” he asks as he opens the car door for me.

“Great,” I tell him, settling into the seat. “We’re hoping to be finished and published in a couple of months.”

He nods as he slides into the driver’s seat.

“Elliot’s going to train us on a new machine next week,” I add, a teasing smile creeping onto my lips. “Admit it—you were wrong about him. He doesn’t want in my pants.”

Rafael hums, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re the prettiest woman in the world. I have trouble believing that every single soul doesn’t want you.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “How did you not flip your marbles when you found out I was working in his lab?”

He glances at me briefly. “Because you told me to trust you around him,” he says simply, “and I was determined to show you that I do.”

The words make my chest ache in the best way, and I swoon, just a little. Truly, there hasn’t been a single day when Rafael hasn’t shown me how much he loves me.

We pull into the driveway of the mansion, a place that has grown on me over the last month since I moved out of the penthouse. Rafael is still the Pakhan of the mafia, yes, but he listens to me. When I said I wanted distance from the mafia, he gave it to me. He doesn’t expect my active participation in anything, keeps the events I’m required to attend to a minimum, and shields me from the darker corners of his world. Peace. I’ve finally found it.

When we step inside, Rafael immediately takes my bag and sends me upstairs. “Go,” he orders gently, his hand brushing my lower back. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

By the time I’ve undressed and made it to the bathroom, the tub is steaming, and he’s sitting next to it on the floor, waiting.My unhinged, possessive husband, who still refuses to let me out of his sight for too long.

“Come in,” I say softly, smiling when his head snaps up. I don’t have to tell him twice. He shrugs off his shirt, steps out of his slacks, and lowers himself into the water with me.

I reach out instinctively, my palms brushing against the scars carved into his chest—scars with my name etched into them. My fingers trace the grooves, and I press a kiss to one.

“You like that you’re carved all over me?” he murmurs, his voice a deep rasp. “In my chest? In my heart? In my soul?”

His words are unhinged, dark, and so utterly Rafael. And I do—I love it. I love him.

“I love you.”

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