Page 19 of Ruin

“Just don’t do it again, Tommy.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Why not? I’m not your responsibility. Why do you think that you have the right—”

“Theright? I have anobligationto help you out when you’re drinking and making bad decisions. I do the same for Matti or Vin, and they do the same for me. It’s what you do when you care about someone.”

His charming grin is gone, replaced with an intensity so earnest that everything inside me stutters. The butterflies crash into my ribs so hard I can’t breathe. This is the closest that Tommy Demonio has ever come to saying that he sees me as anything but an annoying little sister.

“You…care about me, Tommy?”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. Then, his gaze drops to my mouth. My heartbeat is skittering out of control, and I can’t stop myself from licking my lips. His eyes snap back to mine, and it feels like the ground drops out from under me.

The barista interrupts, oblivious, fluttering her lashes at Tommy. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

Tommy’s phone rings, and he rises to answer it, pointing at me. “Give my girl whatever she wants.”

My mouth drops open as the waitress turns her gaze to me, disappointed. I shake my head, completely shook.His girl?

When he sits back down, he looks miserable. I wait for him to tell me what’s going on, and when he doesn’t, I softly tap his hand. “Hey. Everything okay?”

He stares at my fingertips on the back of his hand and I start to withdraw them, embarrassed, but he stops me, capturing one fingertip between his finger and thumb and rubbing softly.

Holy. Shit. A wet heat washes over me, and it feels like all the blood in my body rushes to where he’s touching me.

What the actual fuck is happening right now?

“I’ve got a meeting with Columbia’s dean of admissions tonight.” He traps another of my fingertips with his other hand, his brows drawn. “I know interviews are part of the process, but one-on-one shit with men like that—it’s not my strength. And I have a feeling the meeting is going to be more focused on my last name than my accomplishments.”

Though I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but where he’s touching me, something wakes up when my brain finally processes his words. I frown. “You’re meeting at night?”

“At 7 pm. His secretary said he was working late so he could ‘accommodate me.’” His lip curls.

“She said it like that?” I ask. He nods. I’ve never seen him like this. Bummed. A little anxious. Usually he’s so in control.

Finally, something I can help him with instead of him rescuing me all the time. I slide my palm under his and squeeze his hand. “You came to the right person, Tommy. This is where I thrive.”

8

Tommy

Giovanna Marino is holding my hand.

She is sitting across from me, looking at me, talking to me. And she’s holding my fucking hand.

Holy. Fuck.

This is a standout moment. A mind-blowing, time-bending, life-altering moment. My pulse roars in my ears, and the room shrinks to nothing but the pressure of her skin on mine.

It’s also a dangerous moment, because I know—Iknow—what it means for me if I let myself touch her, really touch her.

I shift my gaze up to meet hers, half nervous that she can see the way my brain is detonating, but if she can, she doesn’t show it. Little sparks shimmer and shine in her hazel irises as she gets excited about something I just said.

What did I say? That I think I’m going to be ambushed with all the reasons I shouldn’t choose Columbia for law school when I meet with the dean.

Which are all the same reasons that a woman like Giovannashouldn’t be with someone like me.

“Tommy, pay attention.”