Page 71 of Ruin Me With Lies
Eyes closed, face relaxed, he’s the picture of tranquil detachment.He looks almost human under the soothing sweep of the masseuse’s fingers.Innocuous.Peaceful.Toopeaceful.
Demons don’t deserve peace.
With pure, petty vengeance humming under my skin, I grab my cutlery and scrape it obnoxiously across the porcelain plate, corralling the empty shells into a clattering pile.Then, with one final dramatic flourish, I drop the utensils onto the tray and slam the dome back down over the dish.
The masseuse shoots me a berating glare.
But my intended target doesn’t even twitch.Still infuriatingly Zen.
Undeterred, I shove my chair back with a loud scrape, amble over to the mini fridge, and yank it open.I snatch a bottled water and, in an effort to make as much noise as possible, slam the fridge door shut with extra force.
Bad idea.
Pain rockets up my leg as the sharp corner of the door rakes across my ankle.Turns out, my foot was still in the damn way.
“Ahh,shit,” I yelp, collapsing into a crouch as I clutch my ankle, white-hot pain pulsing beneath the skin.
Blood trickles in a thin red line from a jagged gash.
Yep.That door got me good.
That’s what I get for being spiteful.
Accepting my karma with a grimace, I straighten up and turn—only to collide into a hard wall of muscle.
A wall that smells maddeningly like fire, spice, and power.
A wall named Stefano Castello.
Of course.A little blood in the water and here he is like a predatory shark.All that racket I made earlier and he didn’t even flinch.But a tiny yelp of pain from me and he materializes like a damn vulture in Brioni, ready to gloat over my karma.
Except…
He doesn’t.
Instead, he crouches in front of me, voice low.“Let me see.”
Uh...What now?
“It’s not that bad,” I say quickly, thrown off by the sudden concern.“No worries.”
But he’s already gripping my leg, steadying it with one hand as he tilts his head to examine the cut.
And now I’m feeling all kinds of weird with him down there, so close, so focused.“Do you have, um, a first aid kit or something?”
The words are barely out before I’m scooped into his arms like a wayward bride.
“Seriously?”I squawk, but he’s already carrying me toward the couch like it’s nothing.
“That’s it for now, Kate,” he tells the masseuse.
Kate nods and quietly leaves.
As he deposits me on the couch, I blink at him, trying to get my bearings.“This feels a bit dramatic, no?It’s just a scratch.I didn’t break a bone.”
“Don’t move.”
He walks off and disappears through a door on the left, and I consider bolting just out of spite, but he’s back before I can finish the thought, a first aid kit in hand.
