Page 111 of The Art of Ruin

His posture shifts slightly, not quite retreating, but aware now in a way he wasn’t before. He lifts his chin, his chest puffing out a little with bravado.

Good.

A little false confidence will make the humiliation land harder.

I don’t look at him again.

Not yet.

I stop beside her first.

My hand finds the back of her chair as I crouch beside her, then shifts, settling briefly at the small of her back as I move in closer, grounding the contact just enough to let her feel that I’m here.

“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low.

She nods. “I’m fine,” she says, though there’s something in it that tells me she’s been repeating that line for longer than she should have had to.

I glance at Isabella, who doesn’t seem to have noticed.

She’s not fine.

Why can nobody else see it?

“Stay here. I’m going to deal with this.”

I go to move and Casey grabs my arm, the contact sending a zing of electricity through me. “Leave it, Adi.”

God, there she goes again, stealing parts of my heart with the way she says my name in that soft voice of hers. The nerves hidden beneath the steel she tries to convey.

“No. I won’t have him harassing you like this. I’m just going to talk to him.”

Casey gives me a small, huffed laugh. “Don’t you mean threaten?”

I offer her a deep grin. “Tomato, tomhato.”

“Just don’t punch him.”

My gut clenches at the way she protects him, and I hate the jealous feeling in my gut. My expression closes and I go to turn away but she stops me with her hand on my face. Her soft palm against my rough stubble. It’s the first time she’s ever touched me with this gentle intimacy, and I find myself leaning into it.

“I’m not worried about you hurting him, Adi. I just don’t want you to get into any trouble because of it.”

Everything in me softens at those words. She was worried about me. I can’t remember when a woman or person who wasn’t family worried about me, and it means more than she knows.

Placing my hand over hers on my cheek, I give her a soft look. “Don’t worry about me, Tesoro. I can handle myself without throwing hands.”

Her nod is slight, but it’s enough for me to know she trusts me to handle this.

Only then do I turn.

Jasper is still there, his girlfriend with their child in her arms. He motions to her to sit and she walks off a ways, still casting hate-filled glances at Casey.

Jasper is still watching, though he looks angry now, his face red.

I take a step toward him.

Not fast or aggressive. To anyone else around us, it’s just two men talking.

“You stay away from Casey. You don’t approach her, you don’t contact her, you don’t think her name,” I say quietly.