Page 114 of Ruins
I’mfurious.
Red-hot rage claws through my veins, burning, searing, consuming. But then she walks down the stairs. And just like that, my fury is shackled—momentarily stunned by the sight of her.
That dress clings to her like a second skin, the color a perfect match to her flawless complexion. My cock hardens instantly, and I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. She moves toward me with effortless grace, slipping her arm through mine, guiding me to the dining room like she doesn’t sense the war raging inside me.
The table is set. The aroma of creamy carbonara fills the space—a scent that should bring me comfort. Instead, it fuels the fire licking at my insides.
She made this for me.
But she made it withhim.
The thought sinks its teeth into me, venomous and unshakable.
“Smells good,” I force out, dragging my chair back and settling into it.
She smiles, warm and inviting, as if that alone will thaw the ice running through my bloodstream. With practiced ease, she twirls the spaghetti onto our plates, the candlelight catching in her hair, gilding her in gold. She’s too fucking beautiful. Too soft.Too perfect.
I grip my fork too tightly as I take my first bite. It’s exquisite—just as I knew it would be. Creamy sauce, crisp pancetta, pasta cooked to absolute perfection. It’s the kind of meal that should make a man weak with pleasure. I groan despite myself.
“I see you like it.” She beams, her eyes bright with something dangerous. Hope. Expectation.
I can’t stand it.
“Yeah, it’s good.” The words scrape out, rough and jagged, betraying the storm inside me.
Her smile falters, barely noticeable, but I see it. Ifeelit. And I hate myself for it.
We eat in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. She’s waiting for me to say something. To give her something.
I give her nothing.
The only thing I can focus on is the memory of her with him. The easy way she laughed, the way she touched his arm.Julian.I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. The urge to claim her right here, right now, is a vicious, living thing inside me. If I had my way, I’d bend her over the table, sink into her, and make damn sure there wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t know who she belongs to.
First time be damned. I wouldn’t even care if the staff was here to watch me claim her.
But then, an ugly thought slithers in.Would it even be her first time?
It never mattered before. Virginity, purity, all those ridiculous notions were beneath me.But with her?The idea of another man having had her—touching what’s mine—sends a violent fury ripping through my chest.
I laugh under my breath. It’s unhinged. Hollow.
Her voice cuts through the silence, gentle but hesitant. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah.” The word is a slap—blunt, short, distant.
She looks down at her plate, hiding the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she speaks again. “This is your favorite dish, right?”
I glance up at her, my grip tightening around my fork. “Of course.”
But I don’t taste the food anymore. All I can taste is the jealousy curdling in my gut, the unbearable possessiveness clawing at my throat.
I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
Without another word, I shove my chair back, the legs scraping against the floor with a sharp screech.
Her eyes widen as I stand abruptly, my fists clenching at my sides.
I can’t do this.
