Page 120 of Ruin Me With Lies

“Like I’m your toy?”

The mischief in his eyes ignites.“Yeah.Like that.”

There it is.The truth.Or at least the version he wants me to believe.

He’s been toying with me this whole time.And I let him.Fell for the lie that he might actually be interested in me.That a man like him would ask to kiss me.Would care about “getting it right” with me.

Usually, I’m the one pulling the wool over everyone else’s eyes.But if there’s anyone who could trap me, strip me down, and expose everything I’ve worked so hard to hide…

It’s Stefano Castello.

My Achilles heel.

“Go to hell,” I spit, grabbing my bag and turning to leave.

But he catches up to me, hooks a finger through a loop on my jeans and yanks me backward until I slam up against his chest.His breath hot against the shell of my ear as he whispers, “So youdowant to be chased after all.”

“I’m not your damntoy,” I hiss.

“What are you, then?”he murmurs, pressing in closer.“Do you even know?”

“I’m—”

“When I tell you you’re beautiful, you reject the words like they’re poison.”He dusts the tips of his fingers down my arm.“I tell you you’re royalty, you reject that, too.So tell me, Delilah…whatareyou?”

“A human being?”I bite out.

“What kind of human being?”

My stomach dips.“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“When I call you a worm, when I call younothing, you don’t even flinch,” he continues, voice low.“You accept scorn and belittlement, but reject praise.”He leans in, voice like velvet-wrapped steel.“So tell me.What kind of ‘human’ do you believe you are?”

What the hell kind of question is this?

My throat tightens.“Let me go.”

He chuckles lightly, the sound brushing against my skin.“You’re not as helpless as you pretend to be, little liar.If you really wanted to be free of me, you would be.”

Still, he lets go and steps back.

For a moment, I just stand there, finding my equilibrium and steadying my breathing.Slow, measured.Reclaiming whatever pieces of myself I can.

And then I turn.

Stefano watches me with impassive eyes now, hands gripping both ends of the towel slung around his neck, as though he’s restraining himself.

“Am I free to leave?”I ask.

A muscle ticks in his jaw.Whatever he’s feeling, it’s turned inward.Punishing.But he gives a sharp nod.

“No one will stop me if I do?”

He snorts.“You’re not that important, ‘human.’Go.”

He turns and walks away from me.Long, unhurried strides toward the back of the house.

I claim I’m not his plaything, righteously indignant about being toyed with.And yet, instead of storming out to protect what’s left of my fragile heart, I…jog after him.Like I’m tethered.