Page 49 of Ruin
She blinks, startled. “What? Why?”
I can’t look at her. My eyes fix on the windows, fogged white, the world outside erased. “Because now I’m fucked. You understand? I’ll never be over you. I’ll never want anyone else. Not after that. Not after you.”
Her hand grips my jaw, forcing me to meet her eyes. They’re wide, wet, shining. “Tommy… I don’t want you to be over me.”
“You don’t get it,” I rasp. “You could change your mind tomorrow. You could walk away. And I—fuck, Gi, I don’t know how to exist without you anymore. I was already too far gone before this. I never had a chance.”
Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t look away. “Neither did I.”
She kisses me again, softer this time, and I groan against her mouth because it feels too good, like she’s stitching me together and tearing me apart all at once.
When I pull back, I fold her into me, my voice nothing but gravel. “You’re mine, Gi. Don’t tell me you’re not, because I won’t survive it.”
Her answer is a whisper, fragile but certain. “You know I am. I always have been.”
And with that, the last defense I have collapses.
18
Tommy
The Demonio estate is wrapped in a thick fog, all stone and shadow and quiet menace. From the window of my father’s office, I focus on the puffs of exhaust from the black Lincoln Town Car warming the asphalt.
Inside, the air feels like it’s holding its breath, and sunlight slices through the tall windows, catching on the gold thread in the burgundy brocade curtains and the polished wood surface of my father’s desk.
My father, Aurelio, sits behind his desk, holding court as usual, a half smile playing on his face as his gaze shifts between me and Lorenzo Marino. The tension is palpable and thick. You can practically taste it when you breathe. He seems to be enjoying it.
Lorenzo, for his part, is wearing an immaculate suit as usual, and I wonder if he gets them made at the same place that Giovanna had the suit made for me. Where I first kissed her. Where I first sunk my finger inside her—
“So. You are wondering why you are here, no.” Aureliois looking at Lorenzo.
I know why I’m here: my father told me to be his backup. Just in case. He likes me to be on standby in the event that things go awry. Always me. Exposure to any and all potential complications is part of my training, he says. He wants me to be his blade, the tool he wields to carve his place in the New York underworld.
I’m good at it. I’m just bored with it.
“I’m sure you’ll make your intentions clear when you’re ready,” Lorenzo says easily, but his jaw is clenched, and I can see the vein jumping in the side of his throat.
Aurelio gives him a quick nod, the smug expression falling off his face when Lorenzo doesn’t take the bait. Not upset, not arguing, not nervous or kowtowing. Vin says Aurelio takes pleasure in other people’s discomfort. I’ve seen nothing that would make me disagree with that assertion.
“It has been three days since you have been appointed CEO of Luminous & Co, yet I have seen no movement on Demonio funds.” He steeples his fingers and narrows his eyes shrewdly at Lorenzo, waiting for his response.
Lorenzo’s brow furrows slightly before returning to his impenetrable expression. “My own businesses have required my attention.”
My father chuckles thinly veiled irritation flickering across his face. It’s a low, indulgent sound that makes my skin itch.
“You understand that Demonio business takes first. Is that how you say it, Tommaso?”
“It takes precedence, yes,” I confirm. My phone buzzes, and I glance at it briefly: a text from Giovanna.
My father’s gone! Come help me
move before he gets back!
She was waiting for her father to be out of the house so I can help her move her things back to her place in the Village without having to deal with him. What she doesn’t know is that I’m here with him now. And that I have no intention of moving her things anywhere but to my place at Dragovari Tower.
Aurelio scowls at me, and I slide my phone into my back pocket. “Do you agree that Lorenzo should put Demonio business first, Tommaso?”
The question hangs in the air like a noose, the weight of both men’s stares pulling at me from either direction. Gi’s words from the other day ring in my ears, how power has less to do with what you want than what you have to lose. Who’s bluffing. Who’s bleeding under the surface. I feel that adage applies to this conversation, but I don’t know how and I don’t want to.
