Page 51 of Ruthless Addiction

But I was tired enough to take whatever lie let me breathe.

Eventually I shut the water off.

Wrapped myself in one of the impossibly soft robes. Pulled on grey lounge pants and an oversized shirt that smelled faintly of cedar.

Cedar and him.

Of course it did.

The room felt colder when I walked back into it.

My stomach growled, but the thought of calling 111 and asking Giovanni for food twisted something ugly inside me. I didn’t want to owe this house anything. I didn’t want to owe him anything.

I curled into the centre of the bed, drawing my knees tight to my chest. The mattress dipped slightly beneath my weight,almost too soft, too luxurious—another reminder I was living in a cage wrapped in silk.

Above me, the molding was pristine white, elegant... and absolutely hiding cameras.

Of course they were watching.

They always watched.

I stared at the ceiling and hated myself for the relief blooming unforgivably in my chest that Seraphina was in a coma.

That the wedding had collapsed.

That the universe—fate, cruelty, whatever—had shoved Dmitri back into my orbit.

I hated that it still mattered. That he still mattered.

What kind of fool dreams of being a man’s wife again after he’s spent years pretending she never existed?

What kind of woman imagines his ring back on her finger?

A weak one.

A stupid one.

A human one.

The house phone rang, slicing through the silence like a blade.

I let it ring once. Twice. Thrice. Four times.

Then grabbed it like I intended to crush it.

“Miss Pen,” Giovanni drawled, warm and amused, “you or the little warrior hungry yet? I make a carbonara so good you’ll forgive all my sins. Or pancakes stacked high with Nutella mountains. Vanya’s choice.”

I closed my eyes. My headache pulsed behind them.

“When we want food,” I said, voice flat, “we’ll call. Stop pretending you have a conscience, Giovanni. It doesn’t suit you.”

He laughed softly, something like affection—or pity—in the sound.

I hung up before he could push further.

Dropped the phone onto the nightstand like it burned.

Then I curled back into the bed, exhaustion dragging me down by the ankles.