Page 138 of The Art of Ruin

I glance over at her for the hundredth time, my attention hyper-focused on her in that dress. She looks fucking beautiful. It’s not just the way the dress hugs her curves or teases at her warm skin; it’s everything. The flush of her cheeks, the curls ofhair against her neck. The way she laughs and smiles. I think I might be fucked.

She’s quieter now, standing near Isabella while Nico talks passionately with one of the event coordinators about arrangements for something three months away, her champagne glass balanced lightly between elegant fingers. The flush hasn’t entirely left her cheeks yet. I can still see the remnants of it beneath the soft gold lighting every time she glances in my direction and quickly away.

And knowing I’m the reason for it is doing dangerous things to my ability to think clearly.

“You’ve been staring at her for twenty minutes.”

Matteo’s voice cuts quietly through my thoughts as he steps beside me near the bar, whiskey in hand.

“I haven’t.” Yet even at his words, I can’t drag my eyes away from her.

He looks unconvinced. “Mm.”

I ignore him, adjusting the cuff of my jacket instead while my gaze drifts straight back to Casey against my better judgement. She’s like a drug, an obsession I can’t quit.

She laughs softly at something Isabella says, her head tipping back slightly, and my entire body reacts with immediate, frustrating awareness.

Matteo follows my line of sight.

Then exhales through his nose like a man watching a runaway train approach from very far away. “Oh, you’re gone.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, I do.

That’s the problem.

Because this stopped being something I can ignore at midnight in Aspen and has steadily become worse ever since. Worse with every quiet morning coffee, every late-nightconversation in the kitchen, every smile she gives Letty, every sarcastic comment muttered under her breath when Matteo inevitably says something irritating.

And significantly worse after tonight.

After that balcony.

After the way she looked at me when I kissed her.

“She kissed you back then?” Matteo asks casually.

I glance at him sharply.

His mouth twitches. “You look less homicidal than usual. I’m making assumptions. Plus, I’m a big snoop and saw you two on the balcony.”

I frown, not liking the idea of anyone else seeing her so uninhibited. “She kissed me first, and you shouldn’t be spying on people.”

That makes my brother laugh out loud. “Brother, information gathering is literally my job in this family,” he says, then sobers after a moment. “Listen, she likes you. You like her. What’s the problem?”

Before I can respond, Casey looks up across the room and catches me watching her again.

This time, neither of us looks away immediately.

The noise of the ballroom fades strangely around the edges for a second, her expression softening just slightly before her gaze drops to my mouth and heat punches low through my chest so hard it almost feels violent.

Jesus Christ.

I finish the rest of my whiskey in one swallow.

Matteo watches me with open amusement now. “I’m so going to win this bet.”