Page 120 of Ruins
My throat tightens. “She would have adored you.” The words slip out on instinct, absolute in their truth.
Her lips part slightly, but before she can say anything, I lift her hand to my lips and press a tender kiss against her knuckles.
She exhales softly, a breathless sound that threatens to ruin me.
I want to stay. To keep touching her. To see where this moment could lead.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
Reluctantly, I pull away. “I have to go to work.”
She nods, a polite smile tugging at her lips.
“But I’ll see you later,” I promise, forcing myself to leave before she captures any more pieces of my heart.
Chapter 25
Vasilisa
Asthefinalbrushstrokesadorn the canvas, completing the masterpiece that is La Serenata, Luca walks into the library. With a huff, he plops himself down in one of the plush lounge chairs, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing me with an intense gaze. The colors of the painting seem to come to life in response, dancing and swirling with energy. The faint smell of turpentine lingers in the air, a reminder of the hours spent perfecting each delicate detail.
My heart races as I await Luca’s reaction to my creation, knowing that his intense stare must mean he has an opinion—but instead, I get a furrowed brow.
“Are you alright?” I ask gently, trying to ease the tension.
“Is that La Serenata?” he asks, his gaze still fixed on the painting.
I nod, a small shrug accompanying my reply. “It’s where Santo and I had our first date. Well, our only date. The second one was cut short by work.”
Luca snorts. “You’re married now. Plenty of dates to be had.” His blunt response catches me off guard, and I tilt my head.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, worried I’ve done something to upset or offend him.
Luca’s jaw tightens. He exhales sharply through his nose, as if weighing his words. “There’s just a lot going on, and I’m stuck—” He stops himself abruptly, his expression hardening.
I hesitate before offering lightly, “Babysitting me?” The words leave a guilty taste in my mouth. I know he could be handling other business for Santo instead of being here with me.
Luca presses his lips into a thin line before shaking his head. “Forget it, I’m sorry.” Then, as if resetting, he straightens up in his chair and asks formally, “Do you have anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Amato?”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes me. “No,Mr. Cattaneo, I have nowhere I need to be,” I reply in the same mock-formal tone. A smirk plays across his face, and the tension between us eases.
“How long have you been painting?” he asks.
“I’ve dabbled on and off all my life, but now, thanks to Santo, I have this.” I gesture around the room with pride.
Luca nods in understanding. “I always thought I’d be good at painting, but I’m shit at most things artistically.”
“Would you like to try your hand at it?”
He exhales, tilting his head. “I don’t have time for painting.”
“Oh, of course not,” I tease sardonically. “Too manly for such creative endeavors.”
Luca shakes his head and chuckles, the deep sound echoing through the room. “I never said that,” he defends with a smirk. “Just... never had the opportunity.”
I wipe my paint-smeared hands on a rag and turn to face him, raising a single brow in challenge. “How about now?”
