32. Her Ruin
Chapter thirty-two
Her Ruin
Aria’s passed out cold in the bed, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. I can’t stop smiling; the sight of her so damn peaceful after coming, completely unaware of what’s about to happen. She fought hard, I’ll give her that, but I always win.
She looks so small, so breakable, sprawled out next to him. Mason. The good doctor. The man who has no clue just how far out of his league she is, so blissfully unaware that I’m standing here in his room, his space, about to take the woman he thought was his.
He doesn’t deserve her, doesn’t even know the first thing about her. And right now it takes everything in me not to act on the violent urges bubbling just beneath the surface. I want to crush him, leave a mark so he never forgets that she was never his to begin with.
But that’s not how I’ll win. She wouldn’t forgive me, and I want her to come to me willingly. Well, almost willingly.
I kneel beside her, brushing a strand of hair off her face, and smirk. “You were never going to stay here, Little Sinner,” I murmur under my breath. “We both know that.”
Standing, I grab her phone off the nightstand and slip it into my pocket before leaning down and scooping her up. Her body is soft and familiar; the weight of her in my arms feeling so fucking right.
Mason stirs slightly, and for a second, I freeze, my breath catching. If he wakes up, things are going to get messy fast. But he just shifts onto his side, his hand falling to the empty space where Aria was, and I can’t help but grin at the irony. By the time he realizes she’s gone, it’ll be too late.
“You lucky piece of shit,” I mutter under my breath, glaring at Mason’s unconscious form. “If I didn’t have bigger plans, you’d be gone by now.”
With one last glance at the useless excuse of a man she calls a fiance, I sling her over my shoulder, careful not to let her head bump against me too hard. She’ll hate me when she wakes up, but that’s fine.
Hate is better than indifference. Hate is something I can work with.
Matteo’s already taken care of her bike—it’s safely stashed at the garage. Luca’s left a few subtle signs, enough to make it look like she left in a hurry. It’s all going exactly as planned.
I carry her through the quiet house, every sound calculated. She stirs, murmuring something I can’t make out, and for a second, I pause, holding my breath. But she doesn’t wake, her body going slack again.
Once outside, the cool night air hits us, and I move quickly toward my car. The moonlight catches her face as I open the door, and for a moment, I just look at her, taking in every detail, every curve, every inch of her that I’ve spent years craving.
“Back where you belong, Little Sinner,” I whisper, setting her down gently in the passenger seat, buckling her in like she’s fragile, like she’s mine to protect. And she is. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s always been mine.
I take a deep breath, sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling out her phone. It lights up, a picture of her and Mason staring back at me. My jaw tightens, the sight of his face making my blood boil, but I shove it down. Focus. There’s a plan, and I’m not about to fuck it up now.
I type out a text, keeping it simple, just believable enough to buy us some time. I hit send, watching as the little bubble disappears, imagining the confusion on his face when he wakes up. Good. Let him sit with that, let him wonder what the hell is going on while I remind her exactly who she belongs to.
Once the text is sent, I toss the phone into the cupholder, turning my attention back to the road. The drive back to the house is quiet, the sound of the engine steady and comforting, but my mind is racing.
I’ve waited too long for this, played it too carefully. Now she’s here, in my car, in my world, and I’m not letting her go again. Not this time.
When I pull into the driveway, Matteo is already waiting, leaning against his bike with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. “Took you long enough,” he says, straightening up as I park. “I was starting to think you chickened out.”
“Fuck off, Matty,” I mutter, stepping out and walking around to her side of the car. I open the door, carefully pulling her out, her body still limp in my arms.
“She give you trouble?” Matteo asks, his tone teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s testing me.
“She’s always trouble,” I say, a smirk tugging at my lips. “That’s why I like her.”
He laughs, shaking his head as he follows me inside. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”
“And you’re just figuring this out now?” I shoot back, kicking the door shut behind us.
Luca is in the living room, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watches me carry her upstairs.
“She better be worth it,” he says, his voice low. “You’ve been spinning out for weeks, Dom. If this doesn’t go the way you think it will—”
“It will,” I cut him off.
He doesn’t argue, but his eyes linger on her for a moment, something unspoken passing between us before he turns away. “You know what you’re doing.”
“Damn right, I do,” I mutter, heading up the stairs, Matteo’s footsteps following behind me.
I lie her down on my bed and adjust her gently, my fingers brushing against her cheek. She stirs slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips, and for a moment, I freeze, my chest tightening.
“Good luck with that one,” Matteo says, leaning against the doorframe. “She’s not exactly the roll-over-and-say-thank-you type.”
“I don’t need her to say thank you,” I say, my voice low. “I just need her to remember.”
He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push, just nods, turning to leave. “Your mess, little brother.”
When he’s gone, I sit on the edge of the bed, watching her; the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair falls across her face. She’s here, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“Sleep tight, Little Sinner,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”