Page 97 of Ruins
Good.
She should be nervous.
But fear alone isn’t enough.
She needs to understand.
I lean forward slightly, just enough for her to feel the shift in power.
“Lila.”
She jumps, her head snapping up, wide eyes locking onto mine.
“It’s time you take a long vacation.”
She blinks rapidly, like she’s not sure she heard me right. “A vacation?”
I nod once.
Her lower lip trembles. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Mr. Amato, I didn’t mean to—”
I lift a hand, a silent command for her to stop talking.
“What you meant or didn’t mean is irrelevant.” My voice is quiet, but the edge in it is sharp enough to slice. “What matters is the damage that’s been done.”
She opens her mouth, desperate to defend herself, but my stare alone is enough to silence her.
“Vasilisa is my wife, Lila. And it is not your place to scare her. It is not your place to confuse her about this household. Orme.”
“I... I didn’t think—”
“That’s right. You didn’t.” My voice is like a blade, precise, cutting through her like I can see the moment it lands. She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable, her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt like it’ll ground her.
For a second, a flicker of guilt tugs at the back of my mind.
But I dismiss it just as fast.
“When I hired you, I made it clear that this job requires discretion. You, seducing my men for information that doesn’t concern you?” I tilt my head slightly. “That tells me you’ve forgotten what discretion means.”
She wilts, her entire body caving inward. “I’m... I’m really sorry, Mr. Amato,” she stammers, voice small.
I study her, the apology hanging heavy between us. I can see the unspoken plea in her eyes—for mercy, for forgiveness.
I let her sit in it.
Then, with an exasperated sigh, I finally respond. “I don’t need your apology, Lila.” My voice cuts through the silence, sharper than I intended. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
She nods so quickly it’s almost frantic. “Yes, sir.”
I stand, rounding the desk with slow, deliberate steps. She stiffens when I stop beside her, her fingers twisting together so tightly they turn white.
She knows better than to move.
“And about that vacation,” I murmur, looking down at her. “Consider it started.”
She blanches, face losing all color, but she doesn’t argue.
She just nods frantically, stammering out another weak “Yes, sir.” before scrambling to her feet and nearly bolting from the office.
