Page 310 of Ruin Me Gently

Her black and white sundress clung to her in all the right places, the hem flicking around her inked thighs as she moved. Her silver locket glinted at her throat.

Sweat clung to her hairline, little beads tracing down her temples and disappearing beneath the delicate dip of her collarbone. She was flushed—cheeks warm, chest rising fast—but her eyes were still sharp. Still burning with that stubborn fire she carried everywhere she went.

My beautiful, impossible, woman.

“You want a memorial too?” I asked dryly. “Plaque on the wall? ‘Here lies Lilith Whitlock—brutally slain by the Italian sunshine.’”

“Add a quote underneath,” she shot back. “Something poetic. Something that makes people cry.”

I grinned.“‘Her death-defying beauty was only rivalled by her inability to follow simple instructions.’”

She barked out a laugh—short and sharp, like she hadn’t expected it to slip loose. But her steps were slower now, her breathing a little too shallow.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I said, turning back around and tugging her forward. “We’re nearly there.”

“Where?” she muttered, dragging her feet like a stubborn kid.

“You’ll see.”

The street narrowed, twisting away from the crowded square into quiet, stone walls covered in ivy and shuttered windows painted in soft pastel shades. The air smelled warmer here, like sun-soaked stone, fresh espresso, and blooming jasmine. Somewhere close, a guitarist strummed one of those slow, lazy tunes that drifted in the air like cigarette smoke curling from a balcony.

Lilith was still muttering something about heatstroke and murder behind me, but when I stopped at the end of the street, she stumbled to a halt too.

I felt her eyes on me as I stepped forward and rested a hand against the worn stone wall.

The street opened up into a little courtyard, tucked away like it didn’t want to be found. The stone walls were crumbling in places, ivy creeping along the edges. Little clay pots of herbs and wildflowers sat on crooked windowsills. A cracked fountain stood in the centre, water trickling lazily from its spout.

She wandered over to a low stone wall, fingers skimming across some old, faded shapes scratched into the stone. A name, a date, some half-erased message that didn’t mean anything to anyone anymore.

She didn’t know I was watching.

Didn’t know how completely wrecked I was by her.

The way her hair caught the light, the way her skin flushed the lightest shade of pink. The way she looked at this place—myplace—like it mattered. Like it was hers too.

I hadn’t been back in years. Not since… well, not since I was a kid. I used to run through this courtyard every summer, scuffing up my shoes on the cobblestones, chasing pigeons, and sucking on the sticky remnants of whatever treat Nonno had snuck me while Nonna pretended not to notice.

I swallowed hard and checked my pocket. Again. Third time in the last five minutes.

Yep. Still there.

And yet, it didn’t feel real. Like the second I reached for that ring, it’d vanish. Like I’d wake up back in that cold, empty penthouse before I ever knew her at all.

My chest cinched, starving me of oxygen.

Pull yourself together.

I stepped quietly behind her, sliding my arms around her waist and pressing my face into her hair.

She startled for a second, her hand freezing against the wall.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said as I kissed her temple. “Just needed to hold you.”

Her hand slid up to cover mine, her fingers curling over my knuckles.

“I was never supposed to have this,” I muttered.

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