Page 48 of Ruined
I glared at him. “You’re too stubborn to leave.”
He huffed a laugh. “Nah. It’s because you don’t want me to. We both know you’d fall apart without me.”
“I’d be fine.”
He reached out and stroked my temple. “You can hate me all you want, Luca. I’m not going anywhere.”
Dominic didn’t remotely feel like a boss anymore. A boss would’ve barked orders and kept his distance. He wouldn’t have touched me like this.
I glanced around the room as I shifted my legs off the bed. The stack of unopened mail on the floor caught my eye. Half of it wasn’t even mine.
I nudged the pile with my toe. “Remind me to drop off Mrs. Peretti’s mail later.”
Dominic’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
“My neighbor. Mailman keeps mixing up our shit.” I shrugged. “She’s too old to walk down to the box.”
Dominic stared at me. “You’re a real mystery, Luca.”
“Yeah? Solve this one: why the hell are you still here?”
As I hobbled to the sink for water, something dark fluttered outside the window—a crow perched on the railing. The same one, probably. I paused, eyeing the bird.
I grabbed a half-empty takeout container off the counter and pried it open. Rice. Probably stale. Good enough. I slid the window open, dumping the food onto the ledge. “Here. Eat up.”
Dominic snickered. “You’re feeding crows now?”
“They’re quieter than you.”
Two weeks flew by.
Dominic insisted on being a pain in the ass. He refused to swap the couch for the bedroom. He’d started removing the cushions and sleeping on the floor. He cooked, helped clean, and took care of me without complaining. Especially during the first week, when standing in the shower nearly knocked me out. I had to brace my hands against the tile to keep from sliding.
He hassled me to take my antibiotics, but my Percocets sat on the nightstand, untouched. He called me a stubborn idiot for not taking them, but I needed a clear head around my boss.
Space wasextremelytight.
I brushed my teeth as Dominic shaved. The bathroom smelled faintly of his spiced soap. He stood shirtless in front of me, the muscles in his back flexing. His razor slid down his neck with slow strokes. He tilted his chin, the blade catching the light as it skimmed his Adam’s apple. I swallowed hard.
Dominic caught me staring. Through the mirror, his eyes locked onto mine, a flash of hazel that pinned me in place. My pulse skipped. I spat into the sink.
I reached for the hand towel, but it wasn’t there. I wiped my mouth on the damp towel he’d left hanging, pretending not to notice the heat crawling up the back of my neck. I turned to leave?—
And stopped.
Dominic leaned closer to the mirror. His silk boxers sat low on his hips, a lazy twist of fabric barely keeping him decent. My mouth went dry. He made it look so…effortless. The tension rippling through his shoulders. The calm precision as the blade scraped down his throat. I couldn’t stop watching.
“Something on your mind?” he boomed.
I stiffened. “I’m wondering how anyone could spend this long in front of a mirror.”
He grabbed a jar of shaving cream. “Want to give it a try?”
“Pass.”
Dominic chuckled, turning to the mirror. He dipped his fingers into the cream, spreading it along his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re missing. A straight razor gives the closest shave you’ll ever get. Plus, it’s cleaner.”
“Yeah?”