Page 166 of The Art of Ruin

“You’re being paranoid,” I say, but the words sound weak even to me.

Jasper stares at me for one long, awful second, then laughs again. “You really don’t know. Your new fuck boy is ruining my life and, once again, you have no idea. I almost feel sorry for you. Poor little Casey. A big, bad man lying to you again.”

I’ve never seen this cruel side of Jasper before. Absent, yes. Oblivious, absolutely. But this is a cruel, nasty side I’m seeing for the first time.

Fear curls tighter now.

Not fear of Adriano.

Never that. He’d never hurt me. At least not physically.

But fear of what this conversation is becoming.

“You need help,” I say quietly.

His expression changes instantly. Cold fury only makes him look more menacing. “You picked that criminal over me.”

The accusation hits so hard it almost physically shoves air from my lungs. “You cheated on me,” I say incredulously. “You had a baby with someone else.”

“And you humiliated me for it.”

I stare at him incredulously.

Because somewhere in his mind, he really believes this.

Like I’m the villain in the story he built for himself, and he’s the victim. How dumb was I not to see him for who he was for so long?

“You ruined your own life,” I hiss, my own anger barely contained now.

He moves fast, his hand closing around my wrist, hard.

Pain shoots sharply up my arm, his fingers pinching so hard I know I’ll carry bruises on my skin.

“Don’t,” he says through clenched teeth. “Don’t talk to me like I’m the problem here when your fucking mafia boyfriend is tearing my life apart.”

Adriano would lose his mind if he saw this. “Let go of me.” I shake my arm trying to free myself, but he just holds me tighter. My heart is hammering in my chest now. People continue to walk past; nobody wants to get involved in other people’s drama.

Jasper steps closer, seemingly having no sense of self-preservation.

Too close. The stale smell of whiskey and sleeplessness rolls off him hard enough now that nausea twists in my stomach.

“You know what the worst part is?” he says quietly. “I loved you.”

Emotion flickers unexpectedly through me then—grief.

For the years I wasted trying to earn the love of someone who only ever loved himself. I doubt he loves this new woman either, but God, I hope he has enough love for his baby.

“You didn’t,” I say quietly. “You loved that I stayed. You loved that I was convenient.”

His grip tightens painfully.

Anger flashes across his face so fast I barely register the movement before he shoves me backward.

Not hard enough to throw me to the ground, but enough that I stumble and twist my ankle. The grocery bag slips from my arm instantly, pine nuts spilling across the sidewalk while pain jolts sharply through my shoulder as I stumble against the brick wall beside the deli.

A few pedestrians stop now.

Jasper seems to realize it, too.