Page 232 of Ruins
I hesitate before blurting out, “Is it because she’s there?”
Santo’s eyebrows raise, “You know about Adriana?”
“That’s her name?”
Santo chuckles with a nod, “I think he went there to see her too, but he didn’t tell me the specifics.”
“I wonder if they’ll fall in love again.”
“In love?” Santo scoffs, “As if Angelo could ever fall in love.”
“You have,” I respond quietly, “Haven’t you?”
“Of course, I have,” he says, his voice quieter now, more certain. His eyes hold mine, unwavering. “I think I’ve made that abundantly clear.”
I give him a coy shrug, “Well, you can’t blame a girl for wanting to hear it every now and then.”
A slow, sly smile spreads on his face. His fingers trace the curve of my jaw before he leans in close, whispering against my ear. “I love you, Dea. That’s why you’re coming with me. I’m not wasting a single second of this time we have together.”
“I am?”
“Of course, like I said, I’m not wasting a second I get with you.”
My heart melts at his words, “Alright, but do I have time to finish this painting?”
Santo looks at the canvas then back at me, his expression unreadable as he shrugs, “You can, but we’ll be late and… Luca, Romeo, Nico… they were all looking forward to seeing you,” he muses as he walks toward the library door.
“They were?” I ask cautiously reading his face for any signs of jealousy.
He nods seriously. “Enzo and Sergei too.”
“They’ll be at the meeting?” I ask excited at the possibility to see my pseudo brothers.
“Yeah,” he says and I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s that face for?”
“Wait a second—are you using them to manipulate me into getting ready on time?” I say, crossing my arms.
“Theywillbe there, I have to address Maksim’s men as well,” he smirks, “But yes maybe a little.”
I playfully slap his chest and he grabs my hand placing a kiss on my paint stained knuckles. “I thought you didn’t like me being friends with them,” I question.
“That was before,” he mummers on to my knuckles. He releases my hand and cups my cheek, “Now you’re completely mine,” he notes, his tone deep, certain. “And you know it. Just like I know there willneverbe anyone else.”
His eyes burn into mine, molten, possessive; branding the words into my soul.
“All yours Santo.”
***
I love NovaRael. Walking these halls, I feel like I’m seven years old again—wide-eyed, full of wonder. But now? Now, I am the most powerful woman here, not because of my name, but because of the man at my side.
Santo Amato, owner of NovaRael. Underboss of Cosa Nostra.My husband.
I never thought I’d crave power, but there’s something intoxicating about it—the way people move aside for us, the way they glance at him with equal parts fear and respect. And all of it, every ounce of that power, is wrapped around the man beside me. The conference room is up ahead, but Santo’s grip on my hand turns us elsewhere.
“Where are we going?” I ask, surprised by the sudden change in direction.
“You’ll see,” he replies, leading me down a long hallway towards a door at the very end.
