Page 96 of Ruin

I stare back at him, and we stay that way for a long time as morning light creeps into the room. Neither of us says a word.

39

Tommy

I’m at your house, Gi. Talk to me. Please.

It’s the thousandth text I’ve sent after a hundred calls, all of which have gone unanswered. She hasn’t come home for weeks. The weather is changing. Her 22nd birthday came and went in March, and I couldn’t find her anywhere. She’s graduating from undergrad in a week, and I can’t keep missing these important milestones in her life.

Which is why I’m here. I’m desperate. This is the last place I want to be, and it’s a last resort, but I’m willing to do anything to get her back.

The Marino house smells the same as always, oiled leather and an exotic blend of rich essential oils, a place designed to remind visitors where they stand in the hierarchy: beneath them.

I square my shoulders before Lorenzo comes down to the front living room where the maid left me. Giovanna told me once:if you want to belong here, don’t bare your teeth.Smile.Be diplomatic. Don’t start fights you’ll have to finish. Be the man they can’t dismiss.

Lorenzo walks through the doorway, and I rise, extending my hand. His eyes rake over me, top to bottom, like I’m something he’s scraped off his shoe.

“Tommaso,” he says, drawing my name out like a curse. “You shouldn’t be here.”

My chest tightens. I force my mouth into the smile I’ve practiced—pleasant, approachable, almost harmless. “Good evening, sir. I was hoping to see Giovanna.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “She’s not here, and even if she were, you wouldn’t be allowed to see her.” His smile is smug, and his eyes carve over me like knives. “I’m repeating this since you clearly haven’t gotten the message: she’s finished with you. My daughter came to her senses.”

The polite smile freezes on my lips. My jaw twitches once before I lock it in place. “I just need to talk to her.”

Lorenzo steps closer. His cologne mixes with the smell of sour wine. “Talk? What’s left to say? You were a mistake. She’s better off without you.” His eyes glitter with cruelty. “You were never the right man for her. Own it and move on.”

My hands flex at my sides, and my teeth ache from the pressure of keeping that smile in place. “Sir.” My voice is quiet, measured, like Giovanna taught me. “I love her. That hasn’t changed.”

Lorenzo’s laugh is short, mocking. “Love? You think that excuses you?”

The mask nearly cracks. My chest burns with the need to hold him down and use my knife on him, carve all the ways his daughter is and will only be mine into his skin.

“Please,” I say, the word tasting like blood. “If you see her,tell her I came by.”

He barks out a laugh, cruel and satisfied, as he ushers me to the foyer. “Pathetic.” Opening the door, he waits for me to leave, and I pause. Fifty different ways to handle this situation flit through my head until I choose the simplest one. I give him a short nod and step out the front door.

Before it can close, a soft voice cuts through. “Tommy.”

Gi’s mother, Catarina, appears, stepping past her husband, her hand resting on the door and holding it open.

“I’ll handle this,” she murmurs to her husband. He scowls but gives her the space, muttering curses under his breath as he retreats into the house.

Her gaze shifts back to me, and it’s softer than his, but watchful too. Measuring. Like she’s not sure if she should comfort me or call the police. When she speaks, her tone is gentle. “I want to thank you, Tommy. You always took such good care of her. Better than her father or I ever managed.”

The words stab deep, tearing something loose in my chest. I bow my head slightly. “She’s everything to me, Mrs. Marino.”

“I believe you.” Catarina’s gaze flits from my clenched jaw to my hands balled into fists. “But Tommy… can you see yourself right now?”

I blink. My mask is still on—diplomatic, steady. But her eyes don’t leave mine.

“You’re straining,” she says softly, almost sadly. “You’re holding something back so tightly I can hear it in your teeth.”

I nod once. She’s right. She sees what Giovanna doesn’t, that I am two men at once, not one or the other. And that I’m her man always.

“And Giovanna…” She sighs, her eyes searching mine. “She’s young, Tommy. A girl her age, she needs your attention, your time. And your patience, because she’s been patient with you for a long time. Maybe too patient. You are… fixed in your ways. Heavy with what you carry. She needs something different right now. Lightness. If you try to force her right now, you’ll smother her.”

Her words are like knives, hollowing me out. Giovanna living without me?