Page 20 of The Art of Ruin

Because that’s easier.

Because that’s safer.

Because this is how I protect myself now.

Letty pulls back just enough to look up at him, then leans in closer, her voice dropping to something that is not nearly as quiet as she thinks it is. “You have to be nice,” she stage-whispers. “You promised.”

I press my lips together hard to suppress the smile that still almost escapes.

I look away before it can.

There’s a beat.

Then he heaves a sigh that sounds like it came from his soul. “You don’t need to leave,” he says.

I look back at him.

Something has shifted, just slightly.

Not softer.

Adjusted.

“You’re here now, so you might as well stay.”

It isn’t an apology.

But it’s something.

I nod once. “Thank you.”

He studies me for another second, like he’s still deciding something.

Then he looks at Letty. “Finish what you were doing,” he tells her.

“I was showing her the good blue crayon,” she says immediately.

“I assumed.”

She beams, and he returns it with a soft look so full of love it almost makes my knees give way. Yep, this man adores his daughter and will do anything to make her happy.

Then he looks back at me, and the softness is gone. “I’ll show you the annex where you’ll be staying.”

The space is separate from the main house, but not distant.

A door off the side corridor leads into it—private without being isolated. Close but detached. I’m used to this kind of setup. It separates staff from family, and it’s a good line to draw for everyone.

He opens it and steps aside to let me walk in first. The scent of his aftershave tickles my nose and makes my mouth water. Expensive and clean.

The kitchenette is small but fully stocked. The living space is clean, with soft light filtering through wide windows that look out over the back garden where a bike lies on its side and a pink swing set dominates the space. There’s a navy couch that looks like it’s meant to be used, not just displayed. A bedroom beyondthat with a bed neatly made. A bathroom that still smells faintly of fresh towels and cleaning products.

It’s… thoughtful, comfortable.

Carefully arranged without feeling impersonal. It’s just what I need.

“You’ll have everything you need here,” he says.

His voice sounds different in this space.