Page 63 of Ruins
The dancers on stage don’t just spin around poles—they command attention, dictate their own performances, and walk away with their own money. The golden rule?No touching.Anyone who lays so much as a fingertip on them takes a one-way trip to the basement. That is where I’ve spent my nights here, in the basement serving punishment to those that dare to break our golden rule.
Tonight, though, Angelo convinced me to stay above ground. Let my knuckles heal before the wedding. So here I sit, Luca to my right, Angelo to my left, and Nico beside him—a makeshift bachelor party I never asked for.
I drain the last of my whiskey and set the glass down with a dull thud. “No more rounds. I’m heading home,” I say, giving Luca a nod to let me out of the booth.
Luca stands, but before I can move, Rachel slides in, pressing herself against my side like she belongs there. Her fingers toy with the lapel of my jacket, a slow, teasing drag. “Don’t go,” she purrs, her voice soft and honeyed. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone all night.”
Rachel is a beautiful girl, fiery red hair, hazel eyes, but that’s never mattered to me. She’s been through hell. We found her in a shipping container meant to carry only weapons. Smuggled in, dehydrated, battered, and discarded like cargo. We gave her a choice—help to start fresh, a ticket to school, or work at one of our establishments. She pickedthislife, took a job as a bottle service girl, and now shares a luxury apartment with another survivor—one who went on to become a nurse at our hospital.
“Not happening.” I say gently prying her hands off of me and helping her out of the booth with me.
She pouts, her eyes scanning my face for any crack in my resolve. She won’t find one.
“My shift ends in thirty minutes,” she tries again, her voice softer this time. “We could leavetogether.”
Across the table, Angelo snickers, clearly enjoying the show. I shoot him a sharp look before turning back to Rachel. “Still a no. Luca will take you home.”
Luca gives a curt nod, already used to this routine.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t get so fucked up you can’t be coherent at the wedding,” I say to my brother and Nico as I head for the exit.
“No promises brother,” he shouts.
“Don’t go,” Rachel whines from behind me.
I’m starting to get irritated. I turn to her trying to keep my cool as I tell her in no uncertain terms to fuck off, but she hands me a card instead. “Call me if you change your mind.”
I glance down. Her number scrawled across the top, her name beneath it, finished off with a kiss mark in that bold red lipstick of hers.
I huff out a quiet laugh—Rachel never quits. But it doesn’t matter. I pocket the card and walk out, not bothering to look back.
This fucking wedding can’t come soon enough.
***
My head pounds from lack of sleep.
I spent the night dreading today, knowing that by nightfall, my home won’t be mine anymore. She will be here. Vasilisa. A permanent presence I won’t be able to ignore.
The thought unsettles me.
I toss off the covers and sit up, rubbing my temples. This arrangement is a business move, nothing more. An alliance. I get NovaRael out of it. I wanted NovaRael. That’s what matters.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I think of Evie Mitchell, my new secretary, and how dismissive she was of Vasilisa. I didn’t like it. In fact, I may have to replace her.
I exhale sharply and shake my head.This—this impulse to remove anyone who so much as looks at Vasilisa the wrong way—is the real problem. I can’t let this infatuation turn into something deeper. If it does, it’ll make her a target.
They already tried to take Elena.
She refuses to leave university, despite Angelo and I threatening to drag her home. She has a final exam, so we allowed her to stay under strict protection. Riot, her guard, hasn’t left her side.
Before, she was our only weakness.
Now? Vasilisa is another.
And if I let myselfcare—if I getattached—it will cost me. Costher. And I know what price we tend to pay.
