Page 90 of Carved in Ruin

“Thanks again, Mila,” he says after a beat. His voice is soft, almost unsure, like he’s not used to people going out of their way for him.

“It’s no big deal,” I reply. “Just don’t snore, or I might kick you out.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

When we finally pull up to the building, Sam’s eyebrows shoot up.

“This is it?” he asks, stepping out and craning his neck to take in the towering structure.

I shrug, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. “Yeah.”

We take the elevator up to the penthouse, the mirrored walls reflecting Sam’s increasingly wide-eyed expression. When the doors slide open, his jaw practically hits the floor.

“Holy—” He steps inside, turning in a slow circle. “This is insane. Do you live herealone?”

“Yeah,” I say, dropping my bag on the kitchen counter.

He whistles low, wandering over to the living room. “This isn’t an apartment. It’s a freaking palace.”

“Oh my God,” Sam gushes, spotting the flowers. He walks over to the cluster of vases and arrangements scattered across the room, some on tables, and others on the floor. “Who’s growing a garden in here?”

I flush, already regretting my decision not to toss out the flowers Rafael keeps giving me. I just can’t bring myself to do it. “They’re… a thing. Don’t worry about it.”

He picks up one of the small cards tucked into an arrangement of pale pink roses, his eyebrows shooting up as he reads. “‘You are the moonlight in my darkest nights.’ Damn, Mila, someone’s poetic. Is he a boyfriend?”

I snatch the card from his hand, shoving it back into the bouquet. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. But, uh, whoever this guy is? He’s obsessed with you. Like,obsessedobsessed.”

I ignore him, grabbing a blanket and pillow from the linen closet. “Come on. Let me show you your room.”

The guest bedroom is one of the smaller ones, but it’s still nicer than most motel rooms. Sam looks around, clearly impressed, as I set the blanket and pillow on the bed.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sure. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, Mila. Really.”

“Goodnight, Sam,” I say quickly before he can say anything else.

“Goodnight.”

I head to my own room, shutting the door behind me. The second I’m alone, the weight of what I’ve done crashes down on me.

Rafaelwillfind out. He always does. And when he does, he won’t appreciate another man staying here. It doesn’t matter that Sam is just a friend, or that he’s probably more interested in the bartender we saw earlier than he’ll ever be in me. Rafael won’t see it that way.

I lie awake for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying every decision that led to this moment. I tell myself it’s fine. Sam needed help, and I couldn’t just let him fend for himself.

But deep down, I know the storm is coming.

And I’m not sure I’m ready to face it.

Thirty Eight

Mila’s Worshipper

Rafael

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