Page 16 of Ruin

With that, he arose from the bed and made his way to the foot of it to put his shoes back on. His eyes locked into mine as he adjusted his clothing, looking at me like, look what you did to me. Bad girl.

I looked down at my feet, concealing the blush that was spreading across my cheeks as a smile I couldn’t fight formed the corners of my mouth.

“When would you like me to come back for you?” he asked, his words dripping sinfully as if he was asking me when I wanted to be ravaged again.

I replied, “An hour would be good. I just need to freshen up, unpack a bit, and call home to let my family know I’m staying.”

“Perfect…” he said before offering me a cheeky wink. “Then it is a date.”

I blushed again, unable to conceal it this time. I bit my lower lip firmly to stop the smile from completely taking over my face in a way that made me look insane.

Arik’s expression filled with satisfaction. He melted me, and he knew it.

Smooth bastard.

As he made his way to the door, I rushed to his side.

He turned on his heel as his hand pulled the handle of the door, letting the golden sunlight and smell of roses waft into the room. As I approached, his arm wrapped around my waist, squeezing me tightly against him as his towering frame absorbed me.

“I would give you a goodbye kiss…” he whispered as I stared back in anticipation, my lips parting like I was ready for it. “But we both know where that would end up.”

And with a wink, his body separated from mine as he strolled out the door, leaving me aching for more.

Chapter Seven

Claire

As soon as I opened the door, there he was. Leaning against the stucco wall that separated my villa from the next, Arik looked slightly more relaxed and put together than when we parted earlier. His black suit was replaced by a crisp black button-down shirt, black buttons glistening in the sunlight as the fabric stretched across his muscular frame. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his lean, muscular forearms coiled with veins like snakes hunting prey. At the base of his torso, the shirt was neatly tucked into black slacks, and a thin black leather belt fastened.

Executive goth.

He certainly had a thing for wearing black; there was no question about it. He smiled widely; his eyes hidden behind black aviator sunglasses.

“Here. You’ll be needing this,” he said with a laugh as he plopped a large, floppy black sunhat upon my head and chuckled.

I looked down at my white cotton dress, the same one I had worn to the office just a few days ago—successfully managing to wash, dry, and pack it before leaving for this trip.

“Black and white…so chic. It’s giving Paris, not Calabria,” I joked as I emerged onto the stone path and closed the villa door behind me.

“It is giving. That’s all that matters, love.” Arik smiled as he firmly grabbed my hand and led me through the garden courtyard toward the lobby.

I held in my breath, my eyes growing wide. This man just called me love. It wasn’t that he said it; it was how he’d said it. His “love” was deep and slow, standing out from among the other meaningless words. Normally, when someone called me love—typically drunk guys in bars during my college days—it sounded like gravel coming up their throats, laced with false promises and bullshit.

But Arik…his “love” sounded smooth.

The echo of his words swam around my head, making my cheeks red and my heart palpitate.

I walked beside him in silence, enjoying the feeling of his soft hand against mine as his fingers intertwined with my own. The hotel was bustling with tourists, staff, and locals spending their Saturday enjoying the grounds, the never-ending supply of wine, and whatever delicious lunch special wafted through the lobby. I smelled garlic and smoky cheese, maybe provolone, beckoning to me, making my stomach growl.

As if he were reading my mind, Arik’s accent-laced voice interrupted my thoughts. “Now, I hope you are hungry. I imagine you are after smelling whatever is coming out of the restaurant today. I certainly am.”

He shot a smile at me as he led me through the front doors, toward an awaiting blacked-out, oversized SUV. “I made reservations for us at one of my favorite eateries—aside from the restaurant here in the hotel, of course.”

“Wait,” I interrupted him, my body coming to a halt. “This is your car? You have a driver?” I questioned. “I thought you were joking.”

The last thing I needed was to get caught up with an Italian mobster, and this SUV reeked of mobster.

Arik tilted his head to the side and replied slowly, his voice tinged with confusion. “Yes, this is my vehicle…and that is my driver.”