Page 49 of Ruins
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” he adds smoothly.
“No, you’re not.” My voice is quiet as I glance out the window again, watching Pietro and Mimi move together like they exist in a world separate from mine.
“Good,” Santo murmurs. “I heard you had lunch with Maksim. Did you enjoy your time with family?”
“I did.” I hesitate for a beat, then add with a bit of honesty, “Well... aside from the beef stroganoff. Not a favorite of mine.”
He chuckles, a rich, low sound that does something strange to my chest. “No stroganoff for our wedding then,” he notes, his amusement evident.
The casual mention of ourweddingmakes heat rise up my neck. It still feels unreal, this impending future of ours. And yet, the thought of it—of him—sends an unbidden flutter through my stomach.
“Can I steal you away for the rest of the day?” he asks, his tone deceptively light, but there’s something underneath it. Something intent.
“Steal me away?” I echo, unable to keep the smile from my lips.
“You’re right,” he concedes smoothly. “It wouldn’t be stealing, considering you’re set to be mine soon enough.”
His words send a shiver through me.Mine.
“Alright,” I whisper, my voice softer than I intended. “When?”
“I’ll send a car again. See you soon,” he says, a quiet triumph lacing his tone before the line clicks dead.
I exhale slowly, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’m still in my sundress from lunch, the same one from the photo on Santo’s desk. My fingers brush over the fabric as I consider changing—but I don’t.
He likes this dress.
And a part of me, one I don’t want to name yet, wants to see his reaction.
***
Santo meets me in the lobby of NovaRael, and despite a flicker of worry that he might be here to work, my heart betrays me—racing at the sight of him.
His eyes light up when his gaze lands on me and he strides forward, a broad grin lighting his features, and those gorgeous gray eyes look lighter today.
“Vasilisa,” he says, my name rich and warm. He takes my hand, pressing a chaste kiss to my knuckles, lingering just a second too long. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” I murmur, involuntarily squeezing his hand in return. His thumb strokes along my knuckles in a slow, unhurried caress before he leads me toward the elevator.
We ascend in silence, hand in hand, but it’s not the awkward kind. It’s easy, natural—something unspoken settling between us.
The elevator doors glide open, and Santo guides me through a maze of corridors until we reach an open-plan office. The space is alive with movement—groups huddled around screens, whiteboards filled with sketches, design concepts, algorithms. The pulse of innovation is tangible, the same energy I grew up around.
But it’s Santo who commands my attention.
He glitters here.
There’s something seamless in the way he moves, his confidence effortless as he introduces me to his colleagues. Some of them have known me since I was a child, but now they look at him not just as their new boss, but as someone they admire. A visionary.
And it fills me with something close to pride.
NovaRael was always my escape. As a child, I spent summers in these halls when my mother had grown tired of me and Mimi. I loved the noise, the ideas constantly in motion. I loved curling up in my father’s office, eavesdropping on meetings, soaking in the thrill of creation.
Now, I watch Santo in it. A place that had always felt like mine.
And strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s taken it from me.
It feels like he belongs here too.
