Page 154 of Ruin Me With Lies
With long strides, he crosses to the two-seater table by the tiny kitchenette and picks up the saltshaker, twisting it slowly between his fingers.“Gio, Stefano, and I have a pact called ‘Halo.’A protection agreement states that if one of us invokes Halo over someone, that person’s off-limits to the others.Full armor protection.You’ve been undermyHalo, Raya.That’s therealreason Stefano hasn’t killed you.”He flicks a look at me under his brows.“I meant it when I said you’re as good as a little sister to me, so it wouldreallyfucking pain me if this ends with him putting a bullet in that usefully smart brain of yours.”
I snort.“Well, that sounds like ayouproblem now, doesn’t it?”I lean back, flattening my palms behind me on the mattress.“I told you from the start that death is a gift I look forward to.All this time you’ve been thinking your little ‘Halo pact’ was protecting me, you were actually blocking my blessing.So really,Ishould be pissed atyou.”
“Fuck’s sake.”He throws his hands up, visibly frustrated.“Stefano told me I wouldn’t get anywhere with you.”
I fall back on the bed with a soft laugh.“Seems the man who wants me dead knows me better than the one trying to keep me alive.”
“Are you protecting someone?Like you did with those strangulation marks on your neck?”he demands.“Is that it?”
“You’ve got the knowledge and the tools to find the answer, boss.Think of this as the final exam in our little lessons.”I pause, pushing up onto my elbows, eyes locked on him.“Or maybe…maybe you already know the answer.You just don’t want to accept it.”
Silence stretches on as we just stare at each other.Oh, he knows.
Without a word, he sets the saltshaker down and strides out.
The door beeps shut behind him.
~
FOOD FROM CORAnever comes, and it’s been almost thirty hours since I last ate.
Around midnight, I test the door and find it locked from the outside.Hoping to convince a Soldati to sneak me something, I tap my knuckles against the wood, but get no response.I suppose it’s riskier for them to be buddies with me up here than down below.
The mini fridge holds nothing but alcohol.Not even teabags or sweetener packets.The saltshaker on the table glints under the warm light.
Sodium chloride will have to do.
Stomach cramping, I shake some salt into a glass of tap water and knock it back.
Well played, Lorenzo Castello.Well played.
~
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT,I’m sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the glitzy Strip, when the door beeps open.
Even before I turn my head, I know who it is.His energy is unmistakable.Always forceful.Demanding.Insistent on beingfelt.Changes the air in every room he enters.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, I rub behind my ear and get to my feet.Then, slowly, I turn.
Nope.That breath wasn’t nearly enough.Not even a little.Because my heart caves in on itself at the sight of him, and all I want is to run into his arms, press my face into his neck.
God,I’m weak.And it has nothing to do with being starved for two days.
I want his hands on me again.His scent on me again.My bare skin pressed to his.I want to breathe against his lips.Kiss them.Lick them.I want to drop to my knees.Worship him.Praise him.
I want him.
Impeccably sharp in a fitted suit, a dome-covered tray in hand, he doesn’t even glance my way as he walks to the table and sets it down.
Is he healed?Must be.There’s no change in his gait, no hint of weakness in how he moves or holds himself—like a leader.A king.
Fresh-faced.Divinely handsome.Tall, broad, intense.
“Are you…” I take two steps forward, then stop.“Are you fully healed already?”
He stares down at the table for a long moment, before finally lifting his eyes to meet mine.Gone is the warmth and softness they once held for me.What’s there now is cold, clinical.He looks me up and down, taking in the bathrobe I’ve been wrapped in since my shower two hours ago.My frizzed-out hair.
Again, I ask, “Is your wound healed?”
