Ruin Me, Saint

CHAPTER 1

Mia's POV

Berlin, Germany, 5:30 p.m.

“Don't stop, Oh my–right thereee!”

The voice came through the corridor before I could even knock. At first, I thought it came from room 186–the flat across his place. But then I heard it again.

“Connor, you're killing me!”

The tulips in my hands hit the floor before I realized I'd dropped them.

My heart sprinted, my breath tangled in my throat as I pushed through the door to his apartment.

The sound of skin slapping against each other, moans, and the soft thud of the headboard told me everything before I saw it. But my legs moved anyway, like I needed to see the death of what we'd built.

And there it was–Connor was naked. The worst? He was moving inside a brunette woman I could hardly make out because her face was buried into his chest as she screamed wildly.

Not until he moved, and I saw her.

My boss.

Her moans filled the room as she turned her head, not even pretending to hide. Connor's eyes followed hers, his face freezing when he saw me.

“Mia,”

I stumbled back, shaking my head, my hand flying to my mouth as bile rose in me.

“Mia, please, it's not–”

“Not what?!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Not what it looks like? Are you kidding me, Connor?”

He reached for me, still half-covered with the bedsheet. “Let me explain, baby.”

“Don't call me that!” I snapped, suddenly feeling irritated at the name. “You're screwing my boss, Connor. My boss!”

Mrs Gina Hale, for what I knew was a gold digger. She was married but still searching–If that even made sense. I always knew she moved around with men, but never for once had I thought she'd use her charm on my fiancee.

Connor tried stepping closer but I moved back. The tulips I'd dropped earlier lay by the floor, crushed. Just like everything else between us.

“Listen Mia,” he said, running a hand through his hair, his tone hardening when he saw I wasn't listening. “You’ve been keeping me waiting for months. I'm a man. What did you expect? Celibacy until the wedding?”

Connor's words hit me like a punch to my chest, forcing me to stagger back.

“It's just a few weeks away, Connor,” I whispered, trembling. “You couldn't wait? You couldn't even hold on for me?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You're boring, Mia. You think love means starving myself for you? I'm done pretending.”

Indignation stirred within me and without a second thought, I slapped him across the face.

Connor stared at me, stunned for a moment, then something dark flashed in his eyes. His hand came down faster before I could react. The slap sent me stumbling back, my chest flaming, my ears ringing.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't damn breathe. I just stood there, staring at the man I thought I knew all my life.

“I've heard enough of your drama,” he said coldly, adjusting his pants. “Maybe now you'll grow up and realize it's not about keeping virginity.”

My voice broke. “I loved you, Connor.”

He looked away in disgust. “Yeah. Maybe that was the problem.”

Something in me died right then.

I turned and walked out before I collapsed completely. I didn't run, I couldn't scream. I just walked, numb, until I reached the elevator. My reflection in the mirror door was ghostlike, my eyes rimmed red from tears.

When I reached the lobby, the cold Berlin air hit me like punishment. I swallowed the sob clawing up my throat. I refused to cry for someone like Connor.

But it was too much. I couldn't hold it in as tears finally spilled.

By the time I got to my apartment, I was trembling. My hands felt foreign as I unzipped my box and began to pack.

It was over. Connor and I were over. I guessed it was time to leave.

I paused at the dresser when my eyes caught a glimpse of my engagement ring glinting under the lamplight. For a moment, I stared at it–the promise it held was now meaningless. I placed it beside the picture frame of us smiling in Prague.

I knew Connor would come for me. He would come over to my place to try to twist things, but this time, he wouldn't see me. I would make sure he never.

Almost suddenly, my laptop chimed and an email notification blinked at the corner of the screen.

Subject: Transfer Approval–Rome Branch.

My breath caught. I'd applied for that transfer months ago, like I knew I'd eventually return there. It was no use working for Mrs Gina anymore.

Without thinking, I clicked accept. Right after, my phone rang, and Adele's name appeared. My best friend.

I hesitated, then answered. “A-Adele,” my voice shook, broken.

“Mia! Hey! Are you still doing dinner with–wait, what's wrong with your voice?”

“I'm…coming to Italy,” I managed, forcing steadiness into my tone.

“What? Now?” Adele asked.

“Tonight,” I muttered. “Can you come pick me up at the airport?”

“Mia, what happened? Did something go wrong?”

“I'll tell you when I get there, Adele.” I bit out, trying hard to fight the tears that threatened to blur my vision. “Just be there…okay?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Why does it feel like you're running away?”

“I am.”

And I hung up before she could stop me.

That night, I left Berlin behind.

At the airport, I sat by the window as the plane taxied, watching the city lights blur. I didn't cry until the world felt like it had shrunk beneath me and the ache finally broke free.

Rome, Italy, 11:00 p.m

Adele's voice cut through the noise of the arrivals hall. “MIA!”

She rushed toward me, her arms widely open, curls bouncing wildly. I tried to smile but it felt fake halfway.

“Damn, you look awful,” she said, cupping my face. “Tell me who I'm killing.”

I let out a weak laugh as she helped with my box. “You'd go to jail.”

“Worth it,” she slung an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. You're staying with me until you figure something out.”

“What? You know I can't stand Michael, your glutton boyfriend.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes as we walked out of the terminals. Adele hailed a cab.

“First, he's not a glutton.” she disagreed as we hoped in. “Second, he doesn't stay with me any longer. We broke up.”

“Wait, why?”

Adele sighed, ruffling her curls. “He cheated.”

Oops.

I bit my lip, and shifted my gaze to the window, staring at the skylines. It would be better if we never talked about this.

Adele's apartment was small, but warm, full of color and vanilla scent. I sank into her couch, exhaustion finally catching up to me.

She sat beside me, blinking.

“Connor cheated on me too,” I said quietly.

She straightened. “He what?”

“With my boss.” I continued, gulping down nothing as the incident replayed in my head.

Adele froze, then cursed under her breath. “Unbelievable. That smug bastard. Why are men so cruel?”

“I didn't want to tell you,” I murmured. “You’d go after him.”

“Damn right I would,” she muttered. “But okay. You're here now, it's pointless confronting him. Rome's good for heartbreak. And revenge, if you change your mind.” she winked.

I smiled faintly. “You never liked him anyway,”

“Because I knew he was trouble.” she hissed beneath her breath, leaning back. “You need to breathe, Mia. Rest. Live. The rest can wait.”

And for the first time in a long while, I believed Adele.

The next day, I went straight to the company branch I'd been transferred to. Maison de Luxe. I couldn't believe I was finally here.

For years, I'd dreamt of working and getting to name my own very brand of luxury in the entire city. And I just couldn't believe I got to work at the main quarter. At least far from Mrs Gina.

The receptionist smiled brightly as she handed me my ID.

“Welcome, Miss Salvatore. You just arrived in time for our annual gala celebration.”

“Annual what?” I questioned, taken aback.

She grinned. “It’s a big deal here. Tonight, everyone finally meets him.”

“Who?”

“The new CEO of House of Luxury,” she whispered dramatically. “No one has ever seen his face. He rarely comes here too. So you're lucky.”

Well…I guessed I was.

I just flashed a smile at the receptionist even though I was confused before walking away and spotting my position.

By evening, I was ready to pass out. But Adele barged into my room, holding a black silk dress after I told her about the party.

“You're going.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.” She pointed toward the bathroom. “Go shower, hair, makeup. Tonight, you make a good impression.”

I groaned but obeyed. Half an hour later, I stood in front of the mirror, the stranger in the reflection was definitely not me.

A few seconds passed and Adele hollered me from downstairs, announcing the arrival of the car she'd ordered.

The event was nothing like I expected. Music, lights, champagne like a royal ball hidden behind corporate doors.

I watched as people danced, made toasts, cameras and the press surrounding every corner, while I kept finding a perfect spot to stay hidden.

Then the host's voice boomed through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the man behind it all–Mr Saint Valerio!”

The name echoed like a warning.

I froze, staring toward the stage as the crowd erupted in cheers.

Valerio?

The name I'd tried so hard to forget. It was Connor's older brother. What was he doing here?

I turned instantly, hoping to disappear into the crowd before…my shoulder hit something hard that almost felt like a rock. A chest. And the glass of wine in my hold splashed across a tailored black Armani suit.

I gasped, stepping back, my eyes darting up and met him.

Saint Valerio.

His gaze locked directly on mine, cold blue-gray eyes unreadable, enough to make breath falter. For a beat, recognition flickered there. Then it vanished.

The spotlight followed, landing straight across us, illuminating every inch of that moment.

He glanced down at his stained suit, then back at me.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, his voice deep and calm. “Who are you?”