Page 63 of The Art of Ruin

He’s looking at what’s behind me.

I don’t turn, but I feel it anyway.

The atmosphere shifts, quiet but unmistakable, the kind of controlled presence that doesn’t need to announce itself to be felt. Adriano.

When Jasper looks back at me, whatever he’d been about to do changes, replaced by something more measured, more cautious. “This isn’t finished,” he mouths.

I don’t respond.

He studies me for a second longer, then exhales through his nose like he’s shelving something he doesn’t have time for, and steps back.

Not retreating.

Just… disengaging. Making it clear without words that this isn’t over.

A moment later, he turns and disappears into the crowd.

I’m still watching the space he left behind when a hand closes around my elbow.

Firm and controlled, the grip is steady enough I don’t question it for a second.

I welcome the steady feel of his hand on me, as I take in the familiar scent of his cologne.

Adriano steps into place beside me, his body angling instinctively so he shields Letty without drawing attention, his presence settling into the space beside me like it had always meant to occupy it.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry beyond us.

I exhale slowly, turning slightly toward him as I answer. “That was Jasper,” I say, keeping my tone even. “My ex.”

His gaze sharpens almost imperceptibly, something colder settling behind it.

“He’s the one that’s been calling me,” I continue, brushing a hand lightly over Letty’s hair as she focuses on her drink. “I didn’t answer. I thought he’d stop if I ignored him.”

“You thought wrong,” Adriano replies, his voice calm in a way that feels far more deliberate than casual.

I glance back to where Jasper had been standing and fight the shiver of apprehension that rolls down my spine. “I guess so.” Our eyes lock, and something passes between us that I can’t name. A silent promise that I’m safe with him.

Letty glances up at him. “Daddy?”

His attention shifts immediately, his hand coming up to rest at the back of her head, his voice softening without losing its steadiness. “It’s alright, Tesoro.”

She nods, reassured, turning back to her hot chocolate.

Only then does he look at me again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

I hold his gaze for a second before answering. “Because it wasn’t your problem.”

Something in his expression stills. “It became my problem the moment he approached you with my daughter present.”

The words hit me harder than I expect. “He didn’t touch her,” I say quietly. “He didn’t speak to her. I would never let him hurt her.”

His expression softens just a touch, hand lifts as if he’s going to caress my face before it drops, his expression clearing. “He upset you. That won’t be tolerated either,” Adriano replies, his tone even, the control in it more unsettling than anger would have been.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then he nods once, like he’s reached a decision. “We’re leaving.”

It isn’t a suggestion.