Page 128 of Ruin
The only sound louder is the reverberations of her in my head. The taste of her, the feel of her skin, her warm wet pussy gripping my dick as she came, the burn of her nails down my back. The fucking fiery inferno of her words telling me to be done with her like it’s even fucking possible.
Like she’s not carved into my fucking DNA.
I grab the first thing within reach, a crystal glass, and it shatters against the wall before I even realize I’ve thrown it. Shards explode, glittering in the lamplight. The sound makes something uncoil in me, so I grab another glass, and another, hurling them until the minibar is stripped bare.
I rip open a bottle of whiskey and slug it back, the liquid pouring down my chest, then throw that, too. Whiskey pours across the carpet like blood.
The rage is overwhelming. I rip the lamp from the table and smash it, bending the shade in half, bursting the bulb. The room goes dark. I want to kill something, someone. Antonio, for getting to lay down next to her every night. Lorenzo, for coming between us. My father, for…everything.
Tearing at the curtains, I rip them from the rods, fling them across the floor. I kick the table until it splinters, drive my fists into the wall until it cracks, until my knuckles split and drip red. The sting is nothing. Less than nothing.
I’m breathing like I’ve run a mile. My chest heaves; sweat slicks down my spine.
I stagger to the minibar cabinet, wrench it open, find an unopened bottle of whiskey inside. I rip off the cap with my teeth and drink straight from it, gulping until my throat burns and my stomach churns. It doesn’t matter. I drink anyway. Again. Again. Again.
I collapse onto the wreckage of the couch, bottle clutched to my chest like a lifeline. Something sharp digs into my thigh, but I don’t move. I just keep the bottle pressed to my lips, drinking until my vision blurs.
Her face swims in front of me, soft and perfect, then shatters like the glass on the carpet. I close my eyes and it’s worse—I hear her laugh, feel her body under mine, taste her tears. I had her. She was here; she was in my arms. And now she’s gone.
I tip the bottle back, letting it sear me until I can’t breathe, hoping it will burn her out of me like acid. But it doesn’t. Because I’m never fucking done with Giovanna.
58
Giovanna: New Year’s Eve, 2 Years Ago
The air is sharp and cold, snapping at my cheeks as I climb the stairs to Dragovari Tower, clutching my coat around me. My heels click against the marble, each step sounding louder than it should, and my stomach is tight. I can’t tell if it’s anticipation or dread that I’m feeling. Probably both.
It’s New Year’s Eve again, the gala of the year, and I know Simone Ashford is hoping that I will take the lead on some of the networking conversations she’s been having regarding opening up the ports for greater distribution. Control of the ports means control of the votes, the lobbyists, the money for Assemblyman Donovan, and the man is dead set focused on becoming senator. The Irish don’t want to lose any of that power, though, so it’s taking longer than planned.
Even though this is my project and Tommy works closely with Donovan, I never see him in the course of my work. That doesn’t stop me from thinking about him, wondering if the pages I’m drafting will end up in his hands, noticingwhen his name is on the list of attendees on meeting notes that I scan for information related to my dock project.
I pause in front of the giant concrete doors and steel my nerves. Antonio should be arriving with me, but he’s already inside as far as I know. For months now, I rarely see him , communicating primarily through the occasional text message, always short and direct.
My focus has been work all year, and in that area of my life, I am crushing it. Simone offered me a permanent position, and I happily accepted, spending most of my evenings at work and not getting home until late at night.
My father is furious that I’m not working with his legal team and learning the international law that applies to Luminous & Co. I’m dreading the day when my father finally figures out a way to manipulate me back into the fold, doing the job for him that he wants me to do. I can feel that day coming every time I see him scowling at me.
Antonio is angry about that, too, plus so many other things. I think things might have gotten more serious with his girlfriend, because he almost never sleeps at my apartment on Bleeker Street anymore. Even my mom has been keeping herself busy, traveling around the world, and Lexi is still in Dubai. If I didn’t have Simone Ashford rooting me on, I’d have no one in my corner.
I keep trying to tell myself that this is enough, that the career I’m building is enough. That I don’t need a real relationship. That I don’t need Tommy. But the truth is, every time I close my eyes, it’s Tommy I see. Tommy I crave. Tommy I have always craved.
And tonight, I want to see him again. I know I shouldn’t, and I don’t even know what I want to happen, but I just can’tkeep pretending he’s not in every corner of my mind. I just want to put eyes on Tommy in person, to make sure he’s okay.
But it’s not Tommy I see first. It’s Vin.
He’s leaning against one of the posts in front of the building, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke curling in the icy air. He flicks it away when he sees me, straightening, and my irritation spikes.
“Well, look who finally showed up. Princess is late to the ball. And without her Prince Charming.” He grins as he saunters toward me, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Christ, really?” I mutter. “You’re waiting out here like a creep?”
“Creep? Nah.” He gives me a once-over, smirks. “Just the welcoming committee. You look nice, princess. Too bad it’s wasted on Tony the Hack.”
“Don’t start, Vin.”
But he doesn’t stop. He never does. I try to step around him, but he blocks my path, looking down at the ground as I sigh, then lifting his gaze to meet mine through his long lashes.
“My brother’s a little weird. You’ve noticed, right?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Intense. Quiet. Don’t get me wrong: he’s the smartest motherfucker I know, makes split decisions better than anyone, and he’s always fucking right, the asshole. Brutal as fuck, too. But he’s got a few…quirks. He can get obsessive, for example. Focused on one thing to the exclusion of everything else, to the point where he doesn’t even notice when it’s burning him alive.”
