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“I know I am,” he says. “Because I’m not your Prince Charming, Jordyn.

I’m not the boy next door. I’m the shadow that waits outside the light.

The thing good girls like you are supposed to stay away from.

” He exhales, slow and ragged, and when he speaks again, it’s almost too soft to hear.

“Why do you think I call you bambina , because that’s what you are.

You’re nineteen and still trying to find yourself.

You’re too good, too pure and innocent and have no business getting tangled up with a man like me. ”

My stomach twists like a pretzel, but I still don’t back down because I see what he’s doing. He’s trying to make me walk away. Trying to make me believe he’s too far gone. Too brutal, too broken to be something good in my life. But I don’t believe it. Not for a second.

“You need to stop romanticising me, like I’m some kind of hero, because I’m not.

I don’t do romance. I don’t do sweet and gentle,” he goes on.

“I don’t know how. Do I think you’re beautiful?

Yes, I do, I would be an idiot not to, but I like my women older.

Experienced . Women who don’t flinch when I get rough.

Women who are just as messed up as I am, who I don’t have to worry about breaking because I fuck them too hard. ”

I can feel the tears biting behind my eyelids while I stare at him, continuing with his rant.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he bites back. “What it would mean to be with me. I don’t date . I don’t court . I fuck. I use. I don’t stay. I never stayed.”

A bitter laugh escapes me.

“A woman?” I snap. “You mean like the one you brought home and fucked against the wall?”

That gets him.

His composure flickers, just for a second, but I see it. The shock. The tension. The awareness, but he recovers quickly, but the damage is already done. I should have kept my mouth shut. His voice lowers, and his eyes narrow. “You were watching me?”

I lift my chin. “I didn’t mean to. I was in the pool on the terrace when I heard something...then I couldn’t look away.” His eyes darken, not with pride, but something more dangerous. Akin to shame, realisation or need.

I take a breath. “Who was she?”

“No one that matters,” he says without hesitation.

“She didn’t mean anything to you.”

“No,” Ares answers without hesitation. “She didn’t.”

“I know, because the entire time you were...detached. Your eyes were closed throughout, like your body was there but your mind was someplace else entirely.” I whisper.

“But when you kissed me? You felt it.” He doesn’t move, but I do.

“You can lie to me all you want,” I say, stepping closer.

“Try and make me believe you’re too damaged, too cruel, too far gone. But you felt it, Ares.”

Still, he says nothing. Just stares at me like I’m something he’s never had and doesn’t believe he deserves.

“What is it you want to hear from me, Jordyn?” he says, voice cool and flat. “That it meant something? It was a kiss. Your first kiss. Of course, you got caught up in it, that’s natural.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. Like, he isn’t shattering me.

“But to me?” His tone hardens. “It was just a kiss. The only thing special about it... was that it was your first . So don’t go looking for something romantic behind it, because you will only get hurt, bambina.”

Even though his words feel like needles under my skin, I swallow the jump forming in my throat and blink back the tears.

“I get it, right now that moment feels...special... monumental .” I blink.

The way he enunciates the word monumental feels loaded with meaning.

One my frazzled brain can’t quite piece together through the splintering of my heart.

“But when you start kissing other guys, you’ll see that it’s not that big a deal. ”

“I don’t believe you,” I whisper.

Ares exhales and takes a step toward me.

“Jesus Christ, you want the truth?” My head tips back, and I look up at him and nod.

“It was boring, all right? I felt nothing because it was too slow and delicate, and the whole time I was holding back, and I couldn’t even fucking enjoy it.

I held back, not because I didn’t want you.

I held back because if I kissed you the way I kiss other women, if I touched you the way I crave to—” He stops himself, jaw clenching like the words physically hurt to say.

“If I kissed you the way I normally would,” he breathes, “you’d bruise, bambina.

You’d tremble. You’d cry. Not because you didn’t want it, but because you’re not built for that kind of hunger. Not yet.”

I stare at him, stunned.

Bruise. Tremble. Cry.

Like I’m made of glass. Like he’s some uncontrollable force I should be scared of. But I’m not scared.

I’m fucking furious .

“Fuck you,” I snap, voice shaking with rage. “You don’t get to decide what I’m built for.” His brows lift slightly, caught off guard, but I’m already stepping into his space, my chest rising and falling like I can’t breathe through the ache he’s left behind.

“ You kissed me like I was something fragile, then punished me for it. You held back, then blamed me for not being able to take more.” My voice breaks, just a little, but I don’t back down.

“You say I’d bruise. I’d tremble, I’d cry?” I shake my head. “Maybe I would. But not because of your hands, Ares. Because of this. You. Your pathetic attempt to push me away with every fucking lie that falls out of your mouth.”

His teeth lock behind a tight-lipped scowl.

“You want to act like you don’t feel anything? Fine,” I say. “But don’t stand there and pretend it was me who couldn’t handle the truth. You’re the one who’s scared.”

Ares doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. In fact, I don’t even think he’s breathing.

So I deliver the final blow.

“You don’t kiss like a man who felt nothing. You kissed me like you were starving. Like you’d been waiting your whole life to feel something, and the moment you did, you ran.”

He remains as still as a statue. His expression doesn’t soften, a stony mask of indifference that seems to carve through the air between us. His eyes pierce me, as if I am the unsolvable puzzle that refuses to fade away.

“Believe me, bambina, when it comes to something I really want, I don’t run. I’ll possess it and make it mine and mine alone,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly, like distant thunder.

“You’re a coward,” I retort, my voice firm and resolute. “I’m telling you I can handle it. I can handle you.”

He lets out a laugh, short, bitter, and hollow, like the sound of a door slamming shut in an empty room.

“You think you know me?” he says, tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with a touch of condescension. “You think what we shared was something real? It wasn’t.”

A tightness coils in my chest, squeezing my heart, but I remain steadfast, refusing to flinch.

He moves closer, his presence looming, not to reach out or comfort, but to draw a line in the sand.

“Jordyn, you’re seeking love from a man devoid of a heart,” he tells me, his voice cold and biting like a relentless rain.

“If you ever caught a glimpse of my true self, you'd flee in terror, desperately digging a tunnel to the farthest corner of the earth just to escape me.

" The words hit me like a tidal wave crashing against rocks, but he isn't finished.

“You want something soft and safe. Try someone your own age, like Matteo. You seemed to enjoy his company just fine in the pool the other night.”

My breath hitches, caught in my throat. He knows. He saw it all. And now, he wields it like a weapon, not out of jealousy, but with a cruel precision meant to ensure I leave with no backward glance.

“You weren’t the only one watching , bambina. Do yourself a favour and step out of this fantasy,” he continues, his voice cutting like a razor's edge. “I don't have the energy or the patience to entertain childish games.”

Then, his voice drops lower, harsher, the final blow.

He grabs my jaw and smirks. “Vai a casa, ragazzina.” Go home, little girl.

Something fractures inside me, a delicate glass shattering from the force of his words. Not because I believe him, but because he intended for it to hurt. My throat burns, but I force my chin higher.

He thinks he’s won. That I’ll crumple. That I’ll fold.

But not this time.

I take a breath, steel in my spine, and meet his gaze head-on. I nod. Just once. I rip his jacket off me and thrust it at his chest.

“Little girl?” I hiss, voice low and shaking with fury. “Mark my words, Ares Russo, I’m going to make you swallow every single one of those words and watch in satisfaction while you choke on it.”

He smirks.

But I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

I turn on my heel and walk out the door, spine straight, footsteps steady, even as my heart shatters with every step I take away from him. Because if he can lie with such ease...then I'll learn to wear the same mask.

Behind me, the silence is deafening.

And I hope it kills him.