Page 28 of The Art of Ruin

Ground rules.

The word doesn’t leave his mouth, but it settles between us anyway. I nod. “That would be helpful.”

He gestures toward the kitchen table rather than the sofa.

Of course.

The sofa would be too comfortable. Too informal. Too easy to mistake for something human.

I sit across from him at the table, hands folded loosely in my lap. He doesn’t sit immediately. He takes a folder from the counter first, sets it down between us, then lowers himself into the chair opposite mine.

Everything about him is economical.

No wasted movement.

No nervous energy.

No attempt to make this easier than it is.

“I value consistency,” he begins.

“I gathered.”

His eyes lift.

For half a second, I think I’ve misstepped, but his expression doesn’t change.

“Letty does better when routines are predictable,” he continues. “Preschool drop-off is at eight thirty. Pick-up is at three. Snack when she gets home. One cartoon before dinner, not two, regardless of what she tells you I allow.”

“She negotiates?”

“She attempts to.”

I almost smile. “Noted.”

“She doesn’t like bananas, despite asking for them. She’ll eat half and leave the rest somewhere inconvenient.”

“That feels very specific.”

“It’s happened more than once.”

“She likes strawberries.”

His gaze pauses on me, as if he didn’t expect me to know that already. “She does.”

“And blue crayons.”

“She likes all crayons. She has opinions about the blue ones.”

“She explained that in detail earlier,” I say with a small smile.

Adriano huffs a semblance of a laugh. “I’m sure she did.”

The faintest shift softens his mouth and disappears.

I shouldn’t notice, but he isn’t the kind of man it’s easy to look away from. Even when I was with Jasper, I noticed him and flirted—even though it was harmless fun to push his buttons. Now it doesn’t feel so safe, but nothing does. Everything feels dangerous.

He opens the folder. “Emergency contacts are here. Pediatrician. Allergies. Schedule. House numbers. Elena’s number. Isabella’s. Both of my brothers. Mine.”