Page 91 of Ruins
Santo laughs. A real laugh. Deep, rich, unrestrained.
It rings through the quiet space, echoing around us, bright and rare and so heartbreakingly beautiful I don’t realize I’m staring.
I feel my lips pull into a smile, unable to stop it.
He looks so different like this. So alive.
His handsome face softened by the warmth of his laughter, his stormy eyes lighter, unburdened.
My gaze drops to his lips.
The urge is sudden, undeniable.
I want to kiss him.
I want to taste his laughter, to feel it against my own mouth.
Without thinking, I lean in.
Santo moves first.
Abruptly, he stands, tearing his hand from mine.
The loss is so sharp, so jarring, I barely mask my surprise.
My heart stutters as I watch it happen—the walls slamming back into place, the openness in his expression disappearing behind something cold and blank.
Santo is gone.
His jaw tightens. “We should get back inside.” His voice is flat now, distanced. “You can paint, and I’ll call Luca about that laptop.”
He doesn’t wait for me.
He just turns, heading back up the stone path, putting space between us.
I stare after him for a moment, something heavy settling in my chest.
Then, without a word, I follow.
Chapter 19
Vasilisa
Insidethehouse,Santointroduces me to Lila—a young housekeeper with warm brown eyes and an easy, inviting smile. She tells me that Mrs. Keen, Santo’s favorite and longest-serving employee, will be back in a week.
Lila is a little older than me, but younger than Santo. There’s something gentle about her, something that puts me at ease despite myself.
As soon as Santo disappears into his office, she zeroes in on me, linking her arm through mine like we’ve known each other for years.
“Oh, your outfit is stunning,” she gushes, eyes sweeping over me. “And your hair? Your makeup? Seriously, girl, you’re gorgeous.”
I blink at her, caught off guard by the enthusiasm, the warmth. Compliments aren’t foreign to me, but… this feels different. Like she’s trying to put me at ease.
Instinctively, my gaze flickers toward Santo’s office.
Lila leans in close, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “Mr. Amato works a lot, but he is totally obsessed with you.”
My breath catches. My head jerks toward her, brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”
