Page 33 of Ruin

Claire looked at me, her eyes searching mine for understanding. She nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought too. I waited for him for years. I made life decisions solely around his needs and his career.”

She paused, her stare dropping to the sand. There was a visible pain in her expression as she continued. “I lost touch with friends when I started putting him above them. I put so much into it, and all he said was that he couldn’t commit and didn’t want to waste my time anymore. That was it. Now I don’t really have anyone. It’s like…starting over. Except now, I’m in my late twenties. I can’t even remember who I really am.”

Hearing her recount her heartbreak, I felt a pang of sympathy in my chest. It struck me how deeply her past had impacted her. “I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to take her hand in mine.

My touch was meant to offer comfort, a tangible connection in the midst of her emotional turmoil. “I do not know much about dating. God, it has been a long time for me. If I were with someone, I’d be with them with the intent of being with them forever. I can’t understand what that guy was thinking.”

Claire pulled her hand from mine and wrapped her arms around herself, a protective gesture against the cold sea breeze—or maybe the sudden burn of remembering heartbreak. Her body language spoke of both physical and emotional chill, and I moved closer to her, wanting to shield her from the world’s cruelties.

I crawled across the sand, closing the distance between us, and wrapped my arms around her. “I know I have said this before, but I think you’re pretty incredible,” I said softly, my voice gentle as I leaned in to speak near her ear. Her head fell against her chest, and I could feel her surrender to the moment.

As Claire sat silently, her emotions ebbing and flowing like the waves at our feet, I reached for a towel and gently wrapped it around her shoulders. “Would you like to go inside and join me for dinner?” I asked, my tone inviting, hoping to offer a small distraction and some solace.

Claire nodded silently, and together, we made our way up the beach and back toward my villa. I stayed close as she stopped to retrieve her shoes and bag at the base of the staircase. The villa’s lights cast a warm, inviting glow, and I could see her curiosity piqued when she pointed at the lower level just below the terrace.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s the lower terrace and my chamber,” I replied casually.

“Your…chamber?” Claire questioned with amusement.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh yes, my bedroom.”

Claire’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Can I see it?” she asked.

I paused, my head dropping low as I whispered, “I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

Her round face was illuminated by the warm lights streaming down from the terrace above, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to her expression. As we approached the glass doors, I pulled them open; the panes collapsed one into the other with a satisfying soft thud. The space reflected the same rustic charm as the living area above with its wooden beams, cream fabrics, and touches of red velvet. The room was dominated by my bed, made entirely of intricate stonework, an integral part of the villa itself as it extended from the ground to the ceiling of the wall behind it.

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise as she took in the stone structure. She stammered, “Your bed…is it built into the house?” she asked, half-joking but clearly fascinated.

I laughed, enjoying her reaction. “It certainly is.”

She stood there, perplexed, her gaze fixed on the stone bed. “Do you have a tendency to break regular beds or something?” she asked with an anxious laugh.

“Maybe,” I replied with a wink, guiding her to the opposite end of the chamber. I wanted to keep the mood light, to ease the tension she was carrying.

At the far end of the room was a large soaking tub with polished golden fixtures, positioned against the glass leading out to the terrace. Candles in various stages of use lined the tub as luxurious vases of bath salts and French-milled soaps were artfully arranged. The room was a sanctuary, designed to offer comfort and relaxation.

As I showed Claire around, I could sense her growing ease, her earlier sadness giving way to a sense of curiosity and wonder. It was a small but meaningful victory, and I hoped that, in some way, I could provide her with a sense of peace and belonging amidst her personal turmoil.

“You know, you really shouldn’t show me this if you want me to believe that you don’t drag women back here every weekend.” Claire laughed, her voice light but tinged with skepticism.

I leaned against the door leading to the bathroom, letting out a laugh. “I can promise you I just like a good bath.”

Claire shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. She reached for the bathroom door, nudging me aside with a gentle but firm push. As she opened the door, the warm, inviting light from within spilled out, casting a soft glow on her face.

The bathroom was a blend of marble and stone, its elegance illuminated by the warm light from small wooden candelabras hanging from the exposed wood beams above. Large mirrors framed with gold lined the wall above the pedestal sinks, and recessed lights in the ceiling added a glow to the space. In one corner was a large stone steam shower, encased in glass with matte black fixtures. Rain shower heads protruded from the ceiling, and water jets lined the walls on opposite sides, a testament to both style and functionality.

Claire turned to me with a raised eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “And the super sexy orgy shower?” she asked, her tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

I reached just past her and smiled as I opened the glass door and turned the knobs. “I like showers too,” I said with a playful grin.

Claire’s eyes followed me as I moved to the connecting closet, retrieving two plush robes. I held them up, watching her reaction, already sensing the lashing she was about to deliver upon me.

“Oh, now I really don’t believe you!” she laughed, her tone light, but her skepticism clear. “Two robes! You’re full of it.”

My expression hardened as I stepped closer to her. “I get these from Milan. I always have two in my wardrobe. If anything happens to one, I am not without a robe.” I waited patiently for her response, hoping she would see the truth in my words. She stared blankly until I felt compelled to continue, “They are custom ordered. There are dozens in storage. Sam will show you, if you would like.”