Page 98 of Ruins
The door clicks shut behind her.
I sink into my chair, exhaling slowly, and glance at the monitor.
Vasilisa is still in the library.
She’s more at ease now, her delicate fingers uncapping tubes of paint, brushing soft strokes across a blank canvas. Colors blend and swirl beneath her skilled touch, forming something beautiful—something soothing. The sight alone eases the tightness in my chest.
She’s a goddess.
Her very soul is like crystalized sapphire held in her eyes, Vasilisa is everything I am not - pure, kind, good, and full of light. My very presence may taint and tarnish her innocence. But watching her so focused and calm fills me with an unexpected admiration and sadness. I want to protect her from the darkness of this world, especially from the darkness in me.
She dips her brush into a pool of cerulean blue, her fingers wrapped around the handle with quiet precision. She moves with such ease, such grace, her brush gliding across the canvas like she was born for this.
I don’t just see her.
Ifeelher.
She turns her head slightly, eyes flicking toward something off-camera, and I marvel at the sight. The elegant slope of her throat, the delicate curve of her shoulders. My gaze drifts lower, catching the whisper of lace beneath her blouse.
She has too many buttons undone.
It would be too easy—too natural—to trail my tongue along the soft curve of her décolletage, to taste the warm skin at the swell of her breasts.
A sudden impulse grips me.
Not just to touch her.
To sit beside her.
To watch her create something out of nothing, to lose myself in the way she paints, she breathes, she exists. To soak in the peace she radiates and let it settle inside me, even for a moment. But I know myself. I’d shatter that peace the second I got too close.
A sharp knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Come in.” My voice is rougher than I expect.
Luca steps inside, closing the door behind him. “You wanted to see me, boss?”
I tear my gaze from the monitor, switching it off a little too quickly. I motion for him to sit.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out even, controlled. “When you gave me your report, was it afullreport on Vasilisa’s romantic relationships?”
Luca’s brows furrow as he drops into the chair. “On her relationship with Jude Olsen?”
“Besides him. And that piece of shit, Pietro.” The name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Luca leans forward, quirking an eyebrow. “There was no evidence that there was ever anything between her and Pietro.”
“Doubtful.” I dismiss it just as fast. “What about others?”
Luca chuckles. “She’s twenty, Santo. How far could she have gone?”
“Plenty of twenty-year-old’s are promiscuous.”
His amusement deepens. “Since when do you care about promiscuity?”
“When it pertains to my wife.”
Luca smirks, leaning back like he’s enjoying this. “We don’t do the blood-on-the-sheets thing anymore, so what is this about? Was she not a virgin? Maksim said—”
