Page 79 of The Art of Ruin

I nod, even though he doesn’t need the confirmation, and take a step forward.

That’s as far as I get.

The movement pulls too much, too quickly, and I stop, my hand tightening against the edge of the table as I wait for the pain to settle back into something I can manage.

A second later, his hand is there—light against my arm, not gripping, just steadying.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly.

“I don’t need—”

“You do,” he cuts in, not sharply, but with enough certainty that it stops the argument before it properly starts.

You can tell this man is the father of a stubborn, independent daughter.

I let out a breath that sounds more frustrated than I intend. “This is unnecessary,” I say, even as I don’t move away. His hand is warm on my skin, as he offers his support in a gentle but firm way.

“You can barely stand,” he replies, his voice still even, still controlled. “We’re not debating this.”

“This is a truly over-the-top response to a woman trying to crawl to the bathroom on her hands and knees.”

I glance up at him then, ready to push back properly, but something in his expression, calm, focused, entirely unmoved by my snark, takes the edge off it before it can land.

“Wow, tough crowd.” Adriano raises one dark brow in warning, and I sigh. “Fine,” I mutter.

He isn’t making this a thing, but he isn’t backing down either.

He isn’t looking at me like I’m fragile.

He’s just doing what needs to be done.

That makes it harder to argue and, honestly, I don’t have the energy anyway.

His hand shifts slightly, more secure now but still careful, and he adjusts his position just enough that I can lean into him without it being obvious that I am. His other hand wraps around my back, supporting my weight.

God, this is so humiliating.

“Slowly,” he says.

“I am going slowly,” I bite.

“You were trying to rush.”

That’s not wrong, but then he doesn’t know how close we are to a red tsunami either.

I don’t respond or say that out loud, but a giggle erupts as I imagine his expression if I did.Fuck, am I delirious from pain?

Adriano looks at me carefully, his gaze drilling into the side of my head, but I ignore it.

Instead, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, letting him guide the pace without drawing attention to the fact that he is. The distance to the bathroom is short, but it feels longer like this, each step measured, careful.

When we reach the door, I hesitate. “This part I can manage,” I say, glancing at him. I’d rather die than let him help me with this.

He nods once, immediately stepping back without argument. “I’ll be right here.”

Of course he will.

I close the door behind me, leaning back against it for a second once it’s shut, letting out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.