All Chapters of His Ruin: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

ArmaniThe first warning was the sound of my study door opening.The second was Drisana walking through it with a folder clutched in her hand.She didn’t knock.I looked up from the document on my desk.Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her expression sharp enough to cut through glass. She crossed the room with the kind of purpose that made Marcus’s warnings about provoking my wife seem suddenly reasonable.She dropped the folder onto my desk. The papers scattered across the polished surface.“Explain.”I glanced at the documents, then back at her.“Good morning to you too.”“Hm hm.” She pointed at the paperwork. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this.”“I wasn’t aware I’d started.”“SpectraGuard doesn’t invest in beauty startups, Armani.”I leaned back in my chair.“No.”Her eyes narrowed. I held her gaze.“But I do.”The silence that followed was brief, but I saw the exact moment her anger shifted into disbelief.“You… You were behind the offer?”“Yes.”She let out a short,

DrisanaI kissed Luca’s forehead before leaving.“Be good for Agnes.”He made a small sound in his sleep and curled his tiny fingers against the blanket.I smiled despite myself. I stood there a few more seconds, then I forced myself to step away from the crib.Tonight wasn’t about Luca or even me. It was about the Rossi family watching. I adjusted the bracelet around my wrist and walked out of the nursery. Armani was waiting at the end of the hallway. He wore a black tuxedo, the jacket fitted perfectly across his shoulders, his white shirt open at the collar beneath the black bow tie.My gaze lingered for half a second too long. I looked away. His eyes caught it anyway. He didn’t comment. For once, I appreciated his restraint.As we walked downstairs together, neither of us spoke.At the front entrance, the driver stepped forward, but Armani reached the door first. He opened it for me.“Thank you.”I stepped outside. His hand settled against the small of my back. Barely there. Just

DrisanaArmani stopped drying his hair.He dropped the towel on the worn armchair and reached for the buttons of his ruined shirt. His back was to me. The wet fabric clung to the hard lines of his shoulders and the curve of his spine as he slowly peeled it off, revealing skin still damp from the rain.I had been holding myself back since we left the house.Every look. Every accidental brush of his hand. Every time his voice dropped when he spoke to me. I had kept my hands to myself and my thoughts locked down. But standing here now, watching the muscles in his back shift as he stripped, something finally snapped.My body moved before I could stop it.I crossed the small room and pressed both palms flat against his back. His skin was warm and slightly wet under my hands. I dragged them slowly downward, over the tight muscle, then around to his sides, feeling the way his ribs expanded with a sudden inhale.He went still.“Someone’s getting impatient. Couldn’t wait any longer?” His voice

Drisana Drisana had fallen asleep sometime after three, still in my arms.We hadn’t made it to the shower. Both of us had been too spent to move. I had thought about getting up, about cleaning the sweat and everything else from our skin, but the moment her head settled against my chest and her breathing evened out, I stayed exactly where I was.I had spent weeks without holding her like this—weeks of careful distance and closed doors. I didn’t know when the next chance would come — or if it would come at all — so I took the one in front of me.When she woke, her eyes opened slowly. For a second they were still soft with sleep. Then the memories of the night before crossed her face. Color rose in her cheeks. She sat up carefully, the sheet clutched to her chest, and glanced toward the bathroom.“I should…” she started, voice quiet.I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist.“Want company?”She froze. Her eyes flicked to mine, then away. A faint, shy flush spread across her cheeks.“…Ye-I

DrisanaThe moving day arrived less than two weeks after the ceremony.As custom demanded, we were to move to the Rossi estate, the traditional family home where the past Dons had lived before Armani.Unlike the mansion we had been living in, this house carried a different kind of weight.It wasn’t simply another Rossi property. It was where the family had begun. Where the previous Dons had raised their families, made decisions, settled disputes, and passed the title from one generation to the next.And now it belonged to Armani.I sat in the back of the car with Luca asleep beside me, watching the gates grow closer through the window.The estate was surrounded by tall stone walls and iron gates bearing the Rossi crest. Two guards stood on either side as we approached, stepping forward to open them.The moment we drove through, I understood why Armani had always spoken about this place differently.The driveway stretched through acres of carefully maintained grounds before leading to