Page 250 of Ruins
Without waiting for a response, she tugs me along, leading us toward the door. The guys follow silent, but ever-present.
The sleek black SUV purrs to life as Luca slides into the driver’s seat, his stern face reflected in the mirror. Riot takes the front passenger seat, while Elena and I settle comfortably in the middle, with Romeo in the back.
The tension is thick enough to choke on, but if Elena notices, she doesn’t show it.
“Could you turn the radio on, Riot?” she asks, flashing him a sweet smile.
Riot gives a silent nod, reaching for the dial. A cheerful pop song filters through the speakers, breaking the heavy silence. Elena bobs her head beside me, her wavy ponytail swishing in rhythm with the music.
I glance at her before hesitantly asking, “So… where are we going?”
Elena doesn’t turn to look at me. Her gaze stays fixed on the passing scenery. “A day of shopping, followed by a quick lunch, and maybe a movie if we have time.”
Her voice is light, almost careless, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me. Beneath the easygoing tone, something is off.
“Isn’t it dangerous for us to be out?” I ask, my voice trailing off before I can finish the thought—but Elena understands.
She waves a hand dismissively. “We have enough security around us.” Finally, she turns to look at me, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You worry too much.”
I nod silently, the unease still there, but I push it down. I want to bond with her. “Where do you go to school?”
“California,” she answers smoothly, her smile practiced, avoiding the actual name of the university.
“Do you go to school?” she asks in return.
I shift slightly. “I’m currently deferring, but yes.”
Elena hums. “Oh, yeah. I guess an arranged marriage would hinder you, wouldn’t it?” It’s not really a question—more of a statement.
I shrug, feeling a flicker of embarrassment.
“Vasilisa isn’t hindered from anything,” Romeo interjects, his voice firm. “She’ll be going back to school, but right now she’s fulfilling the obligation she has to her family—and ours.”
Elena raises her hands in mock surrender. “No need to be a hero, Romeo. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Well, it sounds like you lost all your couth in California,” he retorts.
Elena huffs, turning back toward the window, and the tension in the car thickens once more. My stomach knots, and I find myself wishing I had just stayed home.
Despite the tension in the car, the day passes surprisingly quickly. While trying on clothes, Elena lights up, effortlessly discussing fashion. This is where she thrives—where she excels. She helps me pick out a few outfits, explaining how they’ll elongate my short stature, her enthusiasm undeniable.
It feels good to be out, to step away from the weight of war, if only for a little while. This small slice of normalcy is a welcome relief.
As the late afternoon sun filters through the windows, we return to the estate. Lunch is quiet, the conversation minimal, mostly just filling the silence with idle chatter.
Shortly after, we retreat to the library. The guys leave us alone, giving us space to spend time together. I sit before an easel, focused on yet another portrait of my husband, my brush moving instinctively across the canvas.
But I can feel her eyes on me.
Across the room, Elena lounges in the plush chair Riot carried up from the living room, her legs draped over the sides. She doesn’t speak, just watches, her gaze impassive as it bores into me.
“What?” I finally break the silence, shifting under her intense stare. It feels like she’s trying to see through me, unraveling my thoughts, scrutinizing every detail.
“Do you have social media?” she asks. “I was thinking it’d be fun to tag you in something—maybe a picture from trying on outfits.”
The question catches me off guard, and I feel my cheeks heat. I don’t face her, keeping my eyes on the canvas as I answer.
“No, I don’t have social media anymore.”
