Page 92 of 10 Days to Ruin

“Excuse me?”

“Page 763. Second paragraph.” When I gape at him, he adds, “Unless you need me to sound out the big words for you.”

“Asshole.” But my skin is still flushed fromWhen you’re with me, you’rewithme.As much as I mocked it, something about that linedidsomething to me.

I really would like to not inquire further as to why that is. I get the feeling it’ll stir up a lot of stuff that’s best left dormant.

So, grumbling, I flip to the page and start to read. My voice comes out shaky at first.“‘He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun…’”

Sasha leans in, rumbling the next line from memory.‘‘… But he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.’”

My throat goes dry. The air between us crackles, charged with something deeper than lust.

Something that tastes an awful lot like vulnerability.

He takes the book back, fingers brushing mine. They stroke down the spine like a lover. “My mother read this to me when I was seven. Only way she could get me to sit still.”

The unprompted mention of his mom takes me off-guard. Historically speaking, that kind of thing has only come out under extreme duress and cover of darkness, and even then, he’s reluctant to add details.

But now that I look closer, there’s something… off about him today. Like he forgot to close a door in his personality. There’s a softness… a way in.

I gulp. “Did it work? Did you sit still?”

He nods as he stares into the distance. “Yeah. For every word. I cried when Vronsky’s horse died.” A shadow passes over his face. “Then my father saw me doing it and he beat me until I stopped. After that, I didn’t cry anymore.”

I’m dumbstruck. But maybe that’s a good thing. Some words aren’t meant to be followed up by other words. How could they be? How can I respond to that? What could I possibly say that won’t scare him off or shut him down—or worse, open up a matching can of worms in me?

I mean, I could tell him how quiet it was without Mama and Jasmine in my world. How hard was it to sit still without Mama’s stories? How many tears did I shed?

And what did my own dad tell me when he caught me sobbing?Stop crying, Ariana. Tears won’t bring anyone back.

If I don’t know what to do with those memories of my own, I sure as hell don’t know what to do with Sasha’s. Or with this version of him, the one who knows Tolstoy by heart and mourns horses that only ever existed as words on a page. The one who lets the cracks in his armor show in front of the woman who’s determined to shove him away.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

So I do what I’ve always done when faced with hard matters of the heart.

Deflect.

“Ah, I’m starting to see the full picture.” I gesture to his entire…everything. “The brooding mobster thing is just daddy issues.”

He snaps the book shut. “Careful.”

“Or what? You’ll have me whacked?” I push off the shelves, channeling Gina’s most obnoxious Basic Becky voice and despising myself even as I do. “Omigawd, does that mean I get some of those cute concrete shoes? TikTok woulddie.”

“You’ll need better material if you want to scare me off.” He starts walking, tossing words over his shoulder. “Though I’m curious—what’s your master plan? Annoy me to death with pop culture references?”

“It’s working so far!” I trot to keep up as he leads me into a secluded alcove. “… Right?”

He stops so abruptly that I run right into him. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

I frown as I step away, the smell of him swirling deep in my nose and brain. “Yes, you are. Unfortunately, so am… Wait, where are we?”

Sasha pushes open a heavy oak door with the library’s seal carved into its center and ushers me inward.

I make it two steps before I freeze in my tracks.

I feel like I’m seeing something so beautiful it should be forbidden. Too many eyes on something this pretty would ruin it, as if every stare takes something away from the things it sees.

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