Page 274 of Ruins
She scrunches up her nose, shaking her head. “It’s a surprise, Santo.”
She presses her tiny hands against my chest, trying to push me back. I let her.
“Please let me show you when it’s done.”
“Alright,” I cave, holding my hands up in surrender before stealing a quick kiss from her lips.
She smiles, and I bask in it.
“You’re home early,” she notices, tilting her head. “Everything ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes. But the less you know, the better.”
She scoffs. “Santo, I’m not made of glass, remember?”
“I know, Dea. But I want you safe in every way—” I step closer, tapping her heart. “Especially here.”
She wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“And I love you,” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Have you had dinner?”
She buries her face against my chest, mumbling, “I had snack cakes.”
I step back, tucking my fingers under her chin until her eyes meet mine. “That’s not dinner Vasilisa.”
She huffs, but gives in. “Let’s have dinner then, I’m sure Julian made something delectable.”
Rubbing her palms together in excitement, she removes her paint-smudged smock and tosses it on the chaise. I grasp her hand, leading my wife downstairs.
As we reach the bottom step, I take a moment to drink her in.
Her golden waves cascades over her shoulders, her favorite short skirt hugging her hips with those damn pantyhose-the ones that only serve to get in my way. But instead of her usual button-down blouse, she’s wearing what I can only describe as a corseted bra.
It accentuates every delicate curve, her silhouette more sinful than I have any right to handle.
I stop in my tracks. “You can’t wear a bra around Julian.”
She blinks up at me. “I’ve been wearing this all day and its abustier!” She shakes her head. “You and your brother know nothing about women’s fashion.”
My brows lift. “My brother hasseenyou in that?”
She giggles, scurrying into the dining room before I can react. That sound forces the love to well up within me and it is as powerful as ever, if not more so.
In one swift motion, I grab her and turn her to face me, her giggles die at the look on my face.
Her mischievous eyes narrow playfully. “Something on your mind?”
I consider that question sincerely, grasping her hand in mine,
“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” I murmur, squeezing her fingers.
A soft smile plays around her lips as we enter the dining room together.
Julian has prepared a feast, roast chicken, perfectly seasoned, sautéed vegetables, and for dessert, snack cakes with ice cream. Vasilisa’s favorite.
We sit down to eat, and the weight of the day slowly ebbs away. For a little while, there’s no war, no threats,just us. She talks about her new paints, her next piece, always brimming with creativity. We plan vacations, books to read together, ideas I want to bring to life once my latest innovations at ZEUS, Athena, and Artemis roll out. It’s natural, peaceful,real.
