His Ruin, His Salvation

Unfinished Business

Elena

The shrill blare of my alarm never came. I jolted awake, the pale morning light already bleeding through my curtains. Panic surged through me as I whipped my head to the nightstand. 8:27 AM. My heart dropped." Oh, no..." I was supposed to be at the gallery by nine. If I left right now, I could just make it - ten minutes on foot, give or take. Throwing off the blankets, I scrambled upright, my feet tangling in the sheets as I stumbled towards my closet." Ah - my head." I stilled, one hand flying to my temple. A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes. Right. The wine.

There was no time to think. No time to feel. The chaos of last night clung to me like static, but I shoved it aside. I threw on a pair of jeans and a blouse, not even checking if they matched. I caught the blinking light of my phone out the corner of my eye - seven missed calls. All from mom. Guilt pierced me. I never called her last night. After everything that happened - the dinner, the kiss - I came home and just...shut down. The moment kept playing in my head like a scene I wasn't sure I was ready to believe had actually happened.

Snatching my bag, I tied my hair into a loose bun and bolted. While practically flying down the apartment stairs, I typed out a quick message. Hey mom, I'll call you later. Promise. I popped a mint into my mouth, brushing my teeth in the most unglamorous way possible as I walked. With every step toward the gallery, my stomach turned over. My second day - and I was late." I told him last night..." I muttered to myself, cursing silently. Vittorio had refilled my glass and I let him. I let myself relax. Stupid, stupid girl...

I reached the tall wooden doors, bracing myself for a frosty welcome. Isabella didn't quite look like someone who was the most patient. I half expected a passive-aggressive glance, or worse, a comment about professionalism. But when I stepped inside, breathless and trying to compose myself, Isabella simply looked up from her desk and... smiled." Good morning, Elena. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" I blinked." I - Yes...thank you." It was all I could manage. There was no sarcasm. No tension. Not even a flicker of annoyance. Just that same calm, collected poise she always wore.

She poured the coffee and handed it to me like it was any other morning. I took it slowly, cautiously. " Thanks," I said, settling at my desk, still waiting for the but - for the real reaction to hit. But it never came. I sipped the coffee and stared down at my screen, trying to convince myself everything was normal. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was still tangled in last night - in the way his eyes darkened right before he kissed me, in the way my heart still hadn't quite found its rhythm again.

The morning slipped away with handling all the orders that poured in from last night's exhibition. Between confirming deliveries, responding to emails and ensuring the right pieces were marked for shipping, I barely had a second to breathe. It was fast-paced, relentless - but in a way, I welcomed it. The distraction helped keep my mind from wondering where it shouldn't. But every now and then, my mind betrayed me. A memory would flash - Vittorio's gaze, intense and unreadable. The way his hand lingered on mine - just a little too long. That kiss. I told myself it was the wine, again and again, but the excuse felt thinner every time it echoed in my head.

When the clock edged toward noon, Rosa appeared before my desk, her ever-rosy cheeks slightly flushed from the upstairs run." Lunch?" she asked with a hopeful smile." I need a break before Isabella finds me something else to alphabetize." I let out a small chuckle and nodded." Yes, please. I'm starving."

The two of us headed out, the early afternoon air thick with the city noise and the scent of roasted espresso from nearby cafés. We settled in a familiar spot just down the road - a quiet place with crooked tables and surprisingly decent grilled sandwiches. Rosa chatted away about a ridiculous customer from yesterday who had asked if the gallery sold postcards. I laughed where appropriate, but I wasn't really present.

The odd sensation followed me again. Not strong. Just...there. A prickle at the back of my neck. My steps faltered for a second as I glanced behind us. Just pedestrians, a few office workers, a man sweeping outside a bookstore across the street. Nothing out of place." You okay?" Rosa asked, sipping from her straw, noticing. I gave her a quick nod." Yeah. Just tired." But I wasn't just tired. I was distracted. Restless. The unsettled feeling didn't quite fade. Not even as we chatted, as I tried to focus on something - anything that wasn't the silence from my phone.

He hadn't called. Not a single message. After everything from last night, part of me expected...something.

Back in my apartment, I kicked the door closed behind me with a sigh. The quiet wrapped around me, heavy and thick. I was drained physically, mentally and emotionally. My body ached for a hot shower after the long day I had. I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pound against my skin. The steam curled around me, loosening the tension in my shoulders. For a few moments, I just stood there-eyes closed, hands pressed on the tiled wall-letting everything wash over me. The gallery, Vittorio, the kiss, Isabella's strange calm, even the creeping sensation I couldn't quite name.

It was all too much, and yet...not enough to forget the weight that settled in my chest. The guilt. Wrapped in my towel, hair damp and clinging to my neck, I sank onto the edge of my bed and finally called mom." Elena?" My mother's voice cracked slightly through the speaker, equal parts worry and relief." Sweetheart, are you okay? I called you so many times last night-"" I know, mama. I'm so sorry," I said softly." I didn't mean to worry you. Everything just...got overwhelming."

There was a pause." Is it the new job? You've only just started." I hesitated." It's...not just the job. "I miss you," I said in a whisper. I could hear that my mom was trying to keep her voice from cracking. I didn't tell her everything. I couldn't. But I let her talk, let her motherly voice wrap around me like a comfort I didn't know I'd needed. She told me how my little brother tried to eat three pieces of cake before dinner and how she burned the curry again. Normal things. Safe things.

And for a little while, I let myself fall into that space." I'm proud of you, you know," she said gently, just before we hung up." Even if I don't always say it."" Thanks, Mama," I whispered, a lump rising in my throat." I'll come by this weekend, okay?" After we ended the call, I stood up, switching on the kettle with the intention of making myself a cup of hot chocolate-something warm, something to hold onto. The apartment was quiet, only the low hum of the water heating.

Then it rang again.

I glanced at the screen.

Vittorio.

My breath hitched. My stomach clenched with a strange mix of nerves and anticipation. I remembered saving his number after the night he saved me. The phone rang a second time. Then a third. On instinct, I picked up." Hello," I said softly. His deep, velvety voice filtered through the speaker, rich and effortless. " Hi."

That one word nearly unraveled me." Are you home?" he asked. I barely managed to open my mouth to respond when he added," If you won't mind stepping onto your balcony." My fingers tightened around the phone. What? But my legs moved before my mind caught up, like I was under some invisible pull. Still on the call, I walked through the small living room and pushed open the sliding door.

And there he was.

Standing effortlessly against the door of his car, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. The golden light of the setting sun bathed him in warmth, casting long shadows and making him look almost unreal. Untouchable. His gaze lifted to meet mine. And it hit me, that gaze. This man was breathtakingly beautiful." Hi, Elena," his voice came again, smooth as silk." Do you mind coming down?"