Page 63 of Ruin Me With Lies
She blushes under his praise, cheeks dusted pink.Her eyes softening on him with familiarity and desire.But there’s something else in that melted gaze, flickering just beneath the surface…
He gestures toward the table for her to take a seat, and a small, pathetic, unhinged part of me gloats that he doesn’t pull out her chair.Victory tastes petty, but also kind of delicious.
Once she’s seated, her attention shifts back to me, curious and assessing.“Who’s the new face?Where’s Mr.Bellanti?”
“He’s ill,” Stefano replies, returning to his seat.“Miss Michel is filling in for him today.”
Lucy gives me a slow once-over, her perfectly-arched brow lifting.“Given the nature of what we discuss here, am I to assume she’s under your complete control?”
Stefano just looks at her.
No expression.Just that quiet, unsettling stare.
After several tense beats, Lucy shifts in her seat and nods.“Right.Stupid question.”
Under that continued silence, she starts folding her napkin.Unfolds it.Refolds it again.Trying to keep her hands busy, maybe to hide the subtle tremble.
Interesting…
She clears her throat.“Who knew the mighty Castellos could fall ill,” she says lightly.“Here I thought you were immortals.Unlike the rest of us.”
Still, Stefano says nothing.
The longer he remains silent, the more nervous Lucy becomes.She scratches behind her ear, then glances to the door like she’s hoping for reinforcements.“I thought I’d be the last to arrive.But it seems the others are running late as well.”
“Vegas traffic,” Stefano says coolly.
Lucy’s silver gaze cuts to me again, this time laced with suspicion.Like she’s reevaluating what I am.Who I am.
People with power have more paranoia in their veins than blood.Rightfully so.With power comes an endless dance of dodging daggers.When every handshake hides a blade, trust is a luxury few can afford.
A server glides in to refill our water glasses, and Lucy looks visibly relieved by the interruption.
Stefano, meanwhile, adjusts his cufflinks, calm and collected as ever.He’s annoyingly good at this—keeping everyone off balance while he remains equanimous.
The chief of police arrives next.Then the district attorney.Then the state senator.
There’s a flurry of greetings and small talk before the meeting officially begins.
And then… the boredom sets in.
The discussion drones on, full of pomp and self-importance.They speak with the weighty cadence of men who believe they hold the city in their palms.Like they’re untouchable.Unassailable.
It’s almost funny.
I have to bite back a laugh.
Compared to some of the rooms I’ve been in—rooms where lives are traded like chips at a poker table—this feels like child’s play.Pretend power.Dress-up politics.
Stefano is,surprisingly, the most humble and grounded presence at the table.He’s not flexing.Not threatening.Not talking just to hear his own voice.He seems… thoughtful.Purposeful.Like he actually gives a damn about the city.Meanwhile, the others are posturing, peacocking, desperate to remind everyone they matter.
But it’s obvious, painfully so, thatheis the one with the real power.Not just at this table.In this city.The voice that holds the most weight here is his.
Watching him in this space… it throws me off.It’s hard to reconcile this man with the cruel, ice-veined man I also know him to be.
Lucy Rainford hangs on to every word that leaves his mouth.Her reactions swing wildly between wariness and thinly-veiled lust.Like she’s both terrified of him and wants to rip his clothes off.
It’s clear the latter has been indulged more than once.But the former, that obvious fear and hesitation, is being triggered by something.
