Page 46 of Ruthless Vow
“This was a mistake.”
I’m already at the door. Already putting barriers between us.
“A mistake?” Her voice cracks. “You just. We just.”
“It won’t happen again.”
I leave.
Don’t look back.
Her taste still coating my tongue. The ghost of her cries still echoing in my ears. The feel of her fingers in my hair still tingling across my scalp.
I swore I would never need anyone the way he needed her.
But I already do.
I already fucking do.
I make it to the study before my legs give out.
Papa’s study. Leather and old books and the faint trace of his cologne that no amount of time will erase. The chair behind the desk where he sat for years while his heart gave out.
I brace myself against the doorframe. Heart slamming against my ribs.
The whiskey decanter catches the moonlight. I pour with hands that won’t stay steady. Amber liquid splashes over the rim. I don’t bother cleaning it up.
The burn is familiar. Grounding.
Nothing like the sweetness of her on my tongue.
The tremor in my hands won’t stop.
I hold one up. Watch it shake in the dim light.
Pathetic.
The Don of the Santoro family, wrecked by how she came apart on my tongue like I was the only man who ever existed.
I down the drink. It does nothing.
I can still taste her.
That cry when she came. Those unguarded eyes.Come back to me.Like I was worth waiting for.
I told myself I could touch her without letting her matter.
Fucking lie.
She’s mattered since she walked into my study in that burgundy dress.
I pour another whiskey. Lean my forehead against the cold window glass. Outside, the sky is lightening at the edges. Another day coming. Another round of pretending I’m in control of anything.
My hands still won’t stop shaking.
Her taste underneath the burn of whiskey, no matter how much I drink.
And somewhere in that bed, a woman who looked at me like I was worth loving.
