Page 100 of Ruin
He starts to walk away and then turns back to me. “Hey, give me a call if you’re around this summer. I live pretty close to Bleeker, so we could meet up for lunch or something.”
Tommy would hate that, but that’s not why I won’t do it. I flash a fake smile at him. “Sure.”
He stops and tilts his head at me, giving me a lopsided grin.
“What?” I ask.
“Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I know without looking that you don’t have my number, so I’m going to give it to you.”
He’s not wrong. Tommy deleted that and every other guy’s number out of my phone the first time he brought me back to his suite at Dragovari Tower. I ended up breaking that phone when I was moving out, and even though I ported the number when my dad took me to get a replacement, I didn’t bring over anything else: no pictures, no contacts, no memories.
I laugh and shake my head, handing it to him. “You know me too well.”
“No, I know Tommy too well,” he says, taking the phone from me. When he’s done, he puts it in my hand and holds onto it longer than he needs to. When I look up at him, his expression is serious. “Seriously, Giovanna. Call me.”
“Of course, yeah,” I say, like he’s being silly, and take the phone from him. Without thinking, I give him a hug like I would hug any friend at the end of the conversation, butthe second his arms close around me, I panic and pull away. “Have a good night.”
I turn quickly and walk away from him before he can say anything else and stumble in the grass. A man I don’t know reaches out to steady me, and I look up to say thank you and freeze. Behind him, far off in the distance on the other side of the gate, is Tommy, and he’s looking right at me. Even from this far away, I can see the pain on his face, and my heart rips in two.
He turns to look toward Antonio’s retreating form and then back at me. I dart a glance at Antonio and turn back to Tommy, shaking my head vehemently, hoping that lets him know that nothing is happening between me and Antonio.
“Are you okay?” The guy holding onto my elbow must be saying this for the second or third time because he’s looking at me in concern. I give him a fake smile and pry his fingers off me.
“All good. Fine. Yes, thanks so much.” I turn back toward Tommy, ready to run to him, to explain. But he’s gone.
42
Giovanna
Three knocks come sharp, deliberate, and my stomach drops. Is it Tommy doing our knock, the one I taught him all those years ago? I slide the engagement ring he left for me at my parents’ house up and down the chain around my neck nervously. Is tonight the night we start working things out? I open the door tentatively.
But it’s not Tommy.
It’s much worse.
Aurelio Demonio fills the frame, too broad for it, his scar catching the light from the hallway. His dark eyes roam over me, slow and assessing, like a predator cataloging prey. My breath stutters, but I step back before he pushes his way in.
“This is not a good time,” I manage, voice clipped.
He doesn’t even glance at the apartment as he enters, though I feel his presence contaminating it instantly—my safe space, my little cocoon of blue throw pillows and delicate bookshelves, the fairy lights strung across the loft railing. He looks absurd in here, grotesque against softness,like a wolf pacing through a dollhouse.
“You need to stay away from my son.” His accent is thick, the words guttural, weighted with command.
Shock spikes through me, but a sharp retort slips out before I can stop myself. “Tommy will make his own decisions. He doesn’t answer to you, and if he doesn’t, I definitely don’t.”
Why the fuck am I saying this? I broke up with Tommy. Months have passed without a word from him. But the memory of how Aurelio treats him—the cruelty, the control—has me wanting to throw up. I will always stand between them if I have to. I’ll always protect Tommy. Always.
Aurelio’s lip curls into a sneer. “The smartest thing you ever did was walk away from him. I’m here to tell you that you need to leave him alone for good.”
“That’s none of your business, and if that’s all you came here for, you can go.”
The words barely land before his hand does.
It happens so fast I don’t even see the movement—just the crack of skin against skin, an explosion in the small apartment. My head jerks to the side, a white-hot sting radiating across my cheekbone. The fairy lights overhead blur in my vision, my ears ring, and for one dizzying second I think I might actually fall.
