Page 73 of Ruins
The officiant’s words pull me back to the moment.
Santo’s gaze holds mine, expectant. Waiting.
And I know—there’s only one answer.
“I do.”
***
The ballroom is stunning,
Lilies bloom across every surface, their delicate fragrance wrapping around me like apromise.Santo chose them.
The thought lingers, softening the tight knot of nerves in my stomach. I want to believe itmeanssomething. That maybe—despite the cold distance he’s kept between us these past weeks—there’s hope.
Music hums in the background, a soft, steady rhythm beneath the murmur of conversation. Laughter ripples somewhere nearby. Familiar faces drift in and out of my periphery, but it all feels distant, like I’m watching through glass.
Until Santo’s hand finds mine.
His grip is firm.Grounding. A quiet claim in a sea of uncertainty.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, absently,effortlessly, but the touch sends a slow, unwelcome heat curling through me.
My breath hitches.
“Ready?”
His voice is low, intimate. A thread of warmth in the cool distance between us.
I nod.
Though I’m not sure I am.
He leads me to the center of the ballroom, where the first dance waits like a spotlight.
A hush settles over the room.
I feel every gaze pressing against my skin, a silent weight of expectation, but Santo doesn’t seem to notice.
His focus remains locked on me. As if the world beyond this moment has already melted away.
His hand finds my waist, andheatseeps through the delicate fabric of my gown, spreading in slow waves. His other hand closes around mine, steady, guiding, his touch impossibly sure.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his breath grazes my temple.
A shiver rolls down my spine.
“I’m not used to dancing in front of an audience,” I admit softly, willing my voice to stay even.
His lips twitch at the corner, the ghost of something amused, something almostaffectionate.
“You’ll be fine.” His grip shifts, subtle but firm. “Just follow me.”
The music swells, and Santo moves slow, deliberate, effortless.
I stumble slightly, my body stiff with hesitation. His hold tightens—not rough, not forceful, but unshakable.
“Relax,” he says, voice lower now, something intimate threading through it. “No one’s watching as closely as you think.”
