Page 61 of The Art of Ruin

I lift an eyebrow at her, holding her gaze just long enough. I love that this child feels secure enough to fight her corner, even if it does make my job harder.

She exhales dramatically, shoulders slumping as if I’ve personally ruined her day, and tilts her head forward in reluctant surrender. “This is not fair,” she mutters.

“It’s very fair,” I correct. “We don’t want your ears to fall off.”

Letty’s eyes widen, and I roll my lips to hide my smile from her as she tugs her hat more firmly over her ears.

The city greets us the moment we step outside, cold and sharp and immediate. The wind cuts between buildings, tugging at my coat as I pull it tighter around myself, and the sidewalk is already busy with people moving quickly, coffee cups clutched in gloved hands, breath visible in the air.

I’ve already sent a text to Adriano letting him know our plans for the afternoon.

Adriano had been clear early on—if I took Letty out, his security team would be aware of where we were at all times.

He hadn’t asked for my agreement, and he hadn’t explained it either. He’d simply said it, like it was a fact rather than an instruction.

I hadn’t argued. It wasn’t the kind of thing you argued with. I knew there was an undercurrent of danger with theMancini family, from Isabella and what happened when she was kidnapped by their estranged uncle last year, so security made sense to me.

The fact they’re so unintrusive makes life easier, though. Not bulked-up goons like some of the people I’d nannied for employed. No, these men are discreet, professional, and polite.

Letty slips her hand into mine without thinking, her small fingers warm against my palm even through the fabric, and we fall into step together toward the park, our shadows fading into the background.

“Can we get hot chocolate?” she asks after a few minutes, glancing up at me.

“Maybe.”

“That means yes.”

“That means behave.”

“I always behave.”

I glance down at her.

She grins back, completely unconvincing.

We both know that’s not true.

The park is crowded despite the cold, the ice rink busy with families and the surrounding stalls strung with winter greenery and soft lights. The scent of roasted chestnuts drifts through the air, warm and sweet against the bite of the wind, and Letty slows automatically, her attention caught by everything at once.

“This one looks like Matteo,” she says, picking up a small fox ornament and holding it up for inspection.

“Why?” I ask, leaning slightly closer.

“Because it has poofy hair.”

“That seems fair.”

She giggles, placing it back carefully before drifting to the next display.

We move slowly through the market, stopping here and there, her commentary constant and easy, and for a little while Ifeel the tightness in my chest loosen just enough to forget about everything else. The calls from Jasper thankfully stopped after last weekend, and I’m hoping he finally got the message.

Which is probably why I don’t notice him right away.

“Casey.”

The sound of my name, spoken with that particular familiarity, hits low and sharp. For a moment, I don’t move at all, my body going still as my brain catches up to what I’ve just heard, and then I turn slowly.

Jasper stands a few feet away, his hands pushed into the pockets of his coat, watching me as if nothing about this is unusual. As if we didn’t end things weeks ago in a way that should have made this impossible.