Page 20 of Beautiful Ruins
Maybe she wouldn’t lie outright.
But sidestep?
Oh, she’d do that.
Tactfully.
I stared at her a moment longer than I should have, cataloguing details I had no business remembering.
Her eyes were the first thing that caught me—honey-coloured, warm and bright, the kind that didn’t just look at you butengaged.They winked at me in amusement, like she found this entire situation mildly inconvenient rather than life-altering.
It was unsettling.
Those eyes were full of life.Of laughter that hadn’t been beaten out of her yet.Even now.You couldn’t get much worse than being held in a stranger’s house under armed guard, and yet she carried herself like someone who expected to walk out of it eventually.
Cool as a cucumber, as if she’d always been this way—unflappable in the face of adversity, refusing to give fear the satisfaction.
Her hair was a rich brown, falling in soft waves around her face, loose and untamed, cascading past her shoulders and down the middle of her back like it had never known discipline.I had the strange urge to reach out and tuck a strand behind her ear, just to see if she’d let me.
She had a wholesome fullness girl-next-door vibe about her that made her look real, tangible.She looked like someone who laughed easily.Someone whofeltdeeply.
When she smiled, it wasn’t submissive or careful.It was knowing.Challenging.As if she were in on a joke I hadn’t quite caught up to yet.
“I work two jobs.”It felt as though my silence made her think better of not answering the question.“Barista in the mornings.Freelance graphic work where I can get it.”
“And you live alone, you said?”
She didn’t say.
She met my gaze without flinching.There was no pause to edit herself into something impressive.
“I live with my boyfriend.”
“Ahhh…yes.The elusive missing boyfriend.”
“You think I made him up?”
“I don’t think anything.Assuming in my line of work gets you killed.So I don’t go there.”
Her fork slowed.Not stopped.Just… slowed.
She gestured vaguely with her fork.“Your turn.What isyourline of work?”
I smiled thinly.“I solve problems.”
“Mm.Of course you do.”
She took another bite, grimaced again, then pushed the plate away.“I think my dignity’s full.”
“We should get you some clothes.”
“Sounds like I’ll be here for a while,” she mused, staring down at her nails.
“As long as it takes,” I remind her.
“Why did you cook, anyway?”She asks, looking around the chef’s kitchen.“All this grandeur, and you don’t have a maid or a cook?”
“You’re a curious little one, aren’t you?”
