Page 96 of Carved in Ruin

“We need to talk,” he tells me.

I pause mid-bite, then set the fork down, crossing my arms. “My schedule is packed, Rafael,” I say briskly. “There’s nothing left to discuss.”

Lie. There’s everything to discuss. Everything that I’ve bottled up since the last time I saw him, everything I felt when he wasn’t there. But I can’t go there yet, not now.

His jaw ticks. He studies me, those sharp eyes of his picking me apart.

“Eat,” he orders, nodding toward the plate.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” Another lie.

I’m starving after staying up all night. He kept me on edge, doing things to me that my upbringing taught me were dirty, shameful even. But the way he touched me, the way he claimed me, it felt anything but. It was as if every moment, every sensation, was made to break the rules and rewrite them in a way that made me feel alive.

He doesn’t accept it. He picks up a piece of strawberry and holds it to my lips. “You stopped eating. Finish.”

I turn my head, but he doesn’t back off. “Mila… I didn’t know if you were eating. Or if you were sleeping. I didn’t know if you were taking care of yourself when we were apart. Please.” His tone shifts to something almost pleading. “Allow me this,Kroshka. Let me take care of you.”

I part my lips, letting him feed me the strawberry. He exhales like I’ve just lifted some unbearable weight off his chest.

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the corner of my mouth. “That’s my girl.”

I swallow, my throat tight. I don’t pull away when he picks up another piece of fruit. A part of me, the part I’m not ready to entertain, missed this. Missed him.

But another part of me, the one still simmering with frustration, isn’t ready to forgive so easily.

“We’re still not talking,” I say, my tone clipped even as I take another bite he offers.

“You’ll let me in again. You always do.”

I don’t answer. Because the worst part is… he’s probably right.

I push the tray of half-eaten breakfast aside and swing my legs off the bed, brushing crumbs off my lap as I stand.

“I need to get ready,” I mutter.

He doesn’t respond, but I feel him watching me as I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom. I come out, dressed in jeans and a plain blouse, and my hair is still a little damp from the rushed splash of water. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie in hand, and the scars of my name visible on his skin.

“You, um… let Sam stay the night, right?”

His head tilts slightly, green eyes narrowing. “Yes.”

Relief floods me. “Okay, good. Then Sam and I will head to uni together.”

“Sam isn’t here.”

I freeze, confusion turning quickly into irritation. “What? You said he stayed the night!”

“He did.” His voice is maddeningly calm, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he already knows.

“Then where is he?”

Rafael hands slide casually into his pockets. “One of my men arranged college accommodations for him. He left early this morning.”

“College accommodations?” My voice rises. “Rafael, those are expensive! He doesn’t —”

“It was bothering you.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

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