Page 55 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“No,” says Salvatore. “Since leaving the Crows all those years ago, I have never cared about anyone else.” He spins me around, forcing me to look at him. “And then I saw you.”

“Why do you care?” I ask, the wind blowing between us.

“Because you were like me when I was your age,” he says. “Lost souls float until they find something that sticks. And unfortunately, sweetheart, the thing you think feels like home is the thing you have to run far away from.”

I frown, reading Salvatore’s face like he is a complicated piece of literature. Every time you flick through the pages, you come away with a different interpretation, a different understanding, which makes you question what the book is really about.

“The Crows felt like home?”

“The organization gave me everything I thought I needed. When your life is empty, you become vulnerable, and the devil can smell vulnerability from miles away. He gives you everything you want, food, shelter, a warm bed to sleep in every night, in exchange for your soul. And, my sweet dear,” says Salvatore, squeezing my hand. “Once you have sold your soul, you can never get it back. A piece of you dies the second you finally have everything you want. But it will never be enough, and you will ruin yourself and other people, all to hold onto things that were never meant to be yours in the first place.” Salvatore keeps staring at me, his gaze shifting as he gives me a firm warning. “Please turn around now, sweetheart, before you can’t.”

“Don’t project your life experiences onto me.”

“I see myself in you, and I know how this will end.” Salvatore peers over the edge. “You want to fall, too? Because the higher you climb, the harder you fall. And I’m not the man you want me to be.”

“No,” I say. “You’re exactly who I want you to be.” I shove Mr. Moretti off, walking away from the edge.

Wind blows between us, my hair lifting into the air, flying everywhere. I peel it away from my face, and Salvatore’s green eyes are the first thing I see when I reclaim my vision.

My vision is no longer turning orange as I picture flames, but bright green as I imagine what we could be together.

“You’re vulnerable, Ophelia.”

“I’m nothing.”

“You lost your mother. Three years is still recent.”

“And what would you know about family?”

“I don’t know anything about family,” says Salvatore. “At least in the blood-related way. They were taken from me, sent back to Italy, and I never saw them again.”

“You have all the money in the world, and you’re telling me you haven’t once tried to find them?” I fold my arms over my chest, shivering from the cold winds. “My mom is dead, but if there was a chance she was still out there, I would search every last corner of the world to reunite with her. We’re not the same.”

“Not yet,” says Salvatore, stepping closer. “The Crows made me into a ruined man. I cannot face my family after what I’ve done. The person they think I am is not the person I have become. It would be wrong and unfair to change the perception they have of me.” Salvatore looks at me, a somber expression written across his face. “That’s why I never reached out. And this is what I’m trying to fucking tell you, Ophelia. Leave here. Turn your back on me, the Crows, all of it, before you lose yourself.”

This bastard can’t force me to do anything. Unfortunately, the more he reveals about himself, the more invested I become…

And the more I feel like I’ve found what I have been searching for.

“I’m not leaving.”

For the briefest second, something softens in Salvatore’s gaze when I say that, but the grouchy version of him soon takes over. He works his throat, a hard muscle flexing in his jaw.

“Yes, you are, Ophelia.”

“No.”

All the lies and uncertainty recede as I stare at the man in front of me. Salvatore Moretti isn’t someone to fear. He’s someone to save.

17

SALVATORE

Ophelia is a dream, and I’m the nightmare.

Her hair sweeps across her face like she is in a perfume advertisement, her eyes sweet, the most real pair of eyes I have ever looked into. People have secrets, ulterior motives. Greed is a disease in this city, and soon it will take over the world, but I look at Ophelia and see honesty. All she wants is to feel less alone.

“If you don’t make this decision, sweetheart, I have no other option but to make it for you.”