Page 178 of Ruins
The doors slide open, and I step inside with Angelo. He pulls a black card from his wallet, taps it to a sleek panel, and we ascend.
To the penthouse.
When the doors glide open, my breath catches.
The living room is stunning—two plush black couches, elegant glass end tables, and a state-of-the-art television descending from the ceiling. Maroon curtains frame massive windows, the city skyline stretching endlessly beyond them, glittering like scattered diamonds against the night sky.
A slow exhale leaves my lips.
Angelo’s home is gorgeous, my eyes are immediately drawn to the sleek, modern stainless-steel appliances in the large kitchen I can just make out to my left. A hallway leads off to my right, and I can see a room at the end of it. Angelo turns to me with a warm smile.
“Your home is beautiful,” I say, my voice soft as I take it all in.
“Thank you, Piccola,” he replies, a ghost of pride in his tone. “I’m going to put your things in the guest room. Make yourself at home.”
I sink into the plush couch, my fingers running over the smooth fabric as I glance out the massive windows. The city sparkles below, stretching endlessly into the night. My gaze drifts to the bar against the wall—two glasses sitting on the counter, a quiet remnant of Santo’s presence.
I wonder when he will return. Nervous energy flits about my body at the thought of seeing him again after so long without any contact.
I hope he isn’t upset with me for showing up unannounced.
Angelo’s company has been a welcome distraction, but I can’t shake the ache of not knowing what Santo is thinking and feeling like an afterthought in my own marriage.
Angelo returns, phone pressed to his ear. His voice is calm, laced with that ever-present authority. “Yeah, be here around six in the morning… Yeah, the charity’s at eight. See you then.” He pockets his phone before turning his attention back to me.
“So, Tiny, I made a few calls. Isabella will be here in the morning to do your hair and makeup.”
I blink. “I can do my own hair and makeup, that’s not an issue.”
“I’m sure you can. But this is my treat. Consider it a gift from your cognato.”
The generosity catches me off guard. I offer him a small smile. “Thank you.”
I pause for a moment, trying to keep my voice steady. “When will Santo get here?”
Angelo hesitates, just long enough for the dread to creep in as he takes a seat beside me. “He won’t be coming back here tonight.”
The words hit harder than I expect. My heart drops.
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice thinner now. “Is he going back home? Maybe I should go back there—”
I move to stand, but Angelo’s hand closes around my wrist—firm, grounding. “I don’t think he’ll be there either.”
A knot tightens in my stomach.
“Let’s order a pizza, watch a movie,” he suggests lightly, pulling me back onto the couch. “You’ll see Santo tomorrow at the charity.”
I should nod, should smile, should accept the casual reassurance. But my mind is already spiraling.
Why isn’t he coming?
Is he… angry?
Or is it worse?
A thought claws its way to the surface, sharp and poisonous.Is he with someone else?
My throat tightens. I hate that I even let the thought cross my mind. I don’t want to be that woman—the insecure, jealous wife. But the doubt is there, growing like a vine wrapping around my ribs, squeezing tighter.
