Page 50 of Ruin Me With Lies

“And yet…” I smile, slow and taunting.“Look at you.My indifference infuriates you so badly you want tokillme right now.”A soft, knowing laugh slips past my lips.“Why do the useless words of anobodybother you so much, my reckless king?”

Why are you provoking him?Stop.

But it’s too late.

A tempest rages in his eyes, dark and violent.His nostrils flare, jaw clenched.

His vicious glare drops to my lips.Lingers…

With a deep grunt, he releases me.“Thank my brother when you see him.He’s the only reason you’re still alive right now.”

Backing up from me, he warns, “Tread carefully, little liar.Your luck won’t last.”

As he turns to leave, I call after him, “Dorothy Parker wrote other words too, you know.”

He pauses.Glances over his shoulder to me.“What?”

I rub my throat where his fingers had been, letting the words settle before I quote them.“‘If wild my breast and sore my pride, I bask in dreams of suicide.If cool my heart and high my head, I think, ‘How lucky are the dead.’”

Slowly, he turns, brows furrowed, and stares at me like I’m an equation he can’t quite solve.

“I thinkthat’salsoyour philosophy on life,” I say.“Heavy is the head that wears the crown…and all that.”

I don’t give him a chance to come at me again.Jumping back into the cart, I wiggle my fingers in a small wave, then peel off.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Raya

SWEAT SESSIONS WITHGIOare always a doozy.He’s cheeky, sneaky, flirty, and spends half the time staring at my breasts.

But working up a sweat on the tennis court is exactly what I needed after today’s chaos.I shove every ounce of frustration into my swings, let every grunt carry away my irritation toward Stefano.

By the time Gio and I part ways outside The Pink House, I’m in a much better headspace.Calmer, but exhausted.

I’m halfway up the stairs when Louisa spots me.She rushes up to me, breathless, and launches straight into gossip about what went down outside Brioso Hubb.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly wagging lips can twist facts into fiction.Details mutate with every retelling until there’s nary a sliver of truth left.

But I can’t be bothered to correct Louisa that Stefano didnotcut out Ricky Garro’s tongue and carve “traitor” on his forehead.Or that Luca didnotchallenge Stefano for his position and forced him to back down.

Why let the truth ruin a good tale?

Suffice it to say, the vibe at the villa has been eerily quiet.Tense.As if everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for something big to happen.

Louisa blathers on the entire way to my room, filling me in on things thatdidn’thappen.Even when I hop into the shower—a clear hint for her to leave—she merely plops onto the toilet and keeps yapping.

At some point, she shifts gears, talking dreamily about one of the Uppermen she’s been hooking up with, all smitten and starry-eyed.And I wonder if Tazi gave her the same “the men here are communal” talk she gave me.

Eventually, I decide to make use of her presence and ask her to refresh my braids.And it turns out she’s gosh darn good at it.She effortlessly styles my hair with the coolest side braids, all while gabbing nonstop.

As soon as she’s done, as if on cue, the intercom chimes with its routine alert for the ladies on shift to be downstairs for the shuttle in thirty minutes.

With a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, Louisa hurries out.

And finally…

Blessed silence.