Page 176 of Ruins
A reminder.
He’s spent too long away. Let’s see how long he can keep resisting me.
Picking an outfit for tonight is easy, it feels almost liberating to shed the soft, simple dresses and the jeans-and-oversized-shirts I’d worn in his absence. The modesty, the restraint—it was for him. A silent gesture of respect.
But tonight?
Tonight, Iwanthim looking.
Tonight, I want to beseen.
I descend the stairs slowly, my heart pounding in anticipation at the thought of seeing Santo soon. At the bottom step, Angelo waits, dressed in his usual all-black attire, his posture relaxed but his sharp gaze immediately locks onto my outfit. His dark brows lift in surprise.
“What are you wearing?”
Confused, I glance down at my ensemble. “Clothes.”
Angelo raises a hand as if to stop me. “I know what clothes are, and that’s not it. You’re basically in a bra.”
“It’s a bustier,” I clarify, still unsure of the issue. “And nothing is showing,” I add confidently, handing him my overnight bag.
“Those pants are too tight.”
“And yet they fit me just fine,” I say, gesturing toward the leather that clings to me perfectly.
“Do you always dress like this around the house? Around my brother?” His tone shifts, amusement curling at the edges of his words, his light smoky eyes glinting with mischief.
I stiffen slightly, trying to gauge whether or not he’s actually serious.
“Sometimes,” I answer nonchalantly. “Why does it matter?”
Angelo lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “He’s stronger than I thought.”
My brows knit together. “Excuse me?”
But before I can press for an explanation, he shifts gears, nodding toward my feet. “What’s with the heels?”
I glance down at my three-inch stilettos. “What do you mean?”
“They’re too high for you. You’re going to snap an ankle,” he teases, though I catch the slight edge of concern.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Thank you for your input on my fashion choices. But don’t worry, these heels are quite comfortable.”
Angelo smirks, his teasing unwavering. “Alright, Tiny, do you need anything else before we leave?”
I shake my head, relieved by the easy banter. “Nope, I’m all set!”
The SUV moves smoothly through the bustling city streets, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. Inside, the conversation flows naturally, Angelo’s voice warm as he shares little pieces of Santo’s past.
“He used to take apart household appliances just to see how they worked,” Angelo says with a chuckle. “Our mother would always hide the blender.”
I smile, picturing a young Santo with an insatiable curiosity, something so deeply him that it makes my heart ache in the best way.
“He was always buried in a book too,” Angelo adds, his tone shifting slightly. “I used to tease him about it, but honestly? I admired it. Still do.”
My chest tightens at the rare glimpse of affection he lets slip.
I tell him about Mimi—how much I miss her, how she’s always been my anchor. We talk, we share, and soon the conversation lulls into a comfortable silence.
