Page 124 of Ruins
Slowly, I turn and walk back to the dining room. The candles still flicker. The silverware is still perfectly aligned. The lasagna sits untouched. Everything is exactly as I left it.
Except for me.
Alone.
Rejected.
Once again.
Chapter 26
Santo
Vasilisawaswaitingforme.
I’ve known this all day—saw her nod when Mrs. Keen asked if she was trying to seduce me, the anticipation building inside me like a ticking time bomb.
Every part of me wants to rush to her, to hold her, kiss her, take her, but I can’t.
Not now.
I shrug off my jacket, tossing it onto the couch, before lowering myself into my chair. My fingers drum rhythmically against the polished wood of my desk, my eyes landing on the painting she gave me—La Serenata.
The piece is breathtaking, but all I see when I look at it is her.
Vasilisa.
The way she looks at me.
Bright eyes filled with hope.
Then confusion and pain—the same look she wore when I slammed the door in her face.
Fuck.
I watched her today, as I always do.
But this time, I watched her withLuca.
Painting.
Since when does that fucker paint?
I’ve known him my whole life—there’s not an artistic bone in his body, but my wife comes around and suddenly he’s Van fucking Gogh.
I shake off the sharp sting of jealousy. Luca is my most trusted man,my cousin—he would never cross me.
Still, the image lingers, twisting in my chest like a knife. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples.
My mind wanders back to our interactions over the past few weeks; the stolen glances, soft touches, the taste of her skin on my tongue, the feel of her smooth thighs wrapped around me, her warm light frame on my lap and those lips… those damn lips have been haunting me.
I want her.
But wanting her is dangerous.
She doesn’t know who I am. What I’ve done. What I am capable of.
She grew up in this life, but she hasn’t seen the violence firsthand.
