Ruined: An Ethan Frost Novel; A Loveswept New Adult Romance by Tracy Wolff Page B

the part of me that’s been hurt before, that’s been torn apart and put back together like a bunch of mismatched puzzle pieces, can’t help but wonder if that’s exactly what Ethan intended.

Chapter Eight
    B y the time I get home, I’ve stopped shaking. I’m no less confused, mind you, but at least I can hide it better. Which is important, because when it comes to emotional drama, Tori has a nose like a bloodhound. It’s one of the many reasons I don’t date—if I keep the drama to a minimum, she doesn’t know how much is under the surface, just waiting for her to dig it up.
    At least that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. I only hope the fact that Ethan just gave me an earth-shattering orgasm isn’t written all over my face. God knows it feels like it’s written all over my soul.
    “Hey, perfect timing! The pizza just got here.” She gestures to the box and two plates sitting on the coffee table.
    I peel off my jacket, toss it onto the small entryway bench where my suit jacket from yesterday still rests. “What do you want to drink?” I ask, heading for the kitchen—and something alcoholic. After the day I’ve had, I’m about ready to start mainlining 180-proof liquor. Anything to stop the nerves—and everything else—currently rattling around just under my skin.
    “I opened a bottle of Chianti. Grab that and bring it in.”
    It wasn’t tequila, but it would do. And it would probably go better with pizza, anyway.
    “Your mom called while you were at work. When I told her you weren’t here, she wanted your new cell number.”
    I nearly drop the bottle of wine. “Did you give it to her?”
    “What do you think?” Tori’s voice is much closer now, and I turn around to find her standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
    “You didn’t.”
    “Of course I didn’t.” She grabs the wine, pours both of us some. Watches without saying a word as I drain mine, then hold the glass out for seconds. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me what went down between you and your family.”
    I nod, even as I think the opposite. That there’s no way in hell I will ever tell her, ever tell anyone, why my relationship with my family is so distant.
    “What did she want?” I’ve calmed down enough that I can sound almost unconcerned when I ask the question. I take a small sip of my second glass of wine, wish I could chug it down the same way I did the first. But then Tori’s questions would get more insistent, and after the day I’ve had, I’m just not up for it.
    “She asked me to have you call her. She didn’t say it was important. Only that she wanted to talk to you.”
    I relax a little more. That means she wants something from me. I can handle that—after all, my whole life has been about giving my parents what they want. “Did she mention Miles?”
    “She just asked me to let you know that your brother’s doing fine. He’s working on some new project that he’s very excited about.”
    “That sounds about right.” I smile, let the last of the tension go. My older brother, Miles, is a tech genius who never quite learned how to function in the real world. From the time we were little, he’s always been more wrapped up in imagining things and figuring out how to make them a reality than he’s ever been about mundane things like eating or making a living or protecting his ideas.
    If it were up to him, he’d share his inventions with the whole world for free and we’d all survive on gumdrops and lollipops and live happily ever after. But not everyone is as nice—or naive—as he is, and he’s had ideas stolen more than once. It’s why I’m so interested in intellectual property law. My brother might not care about protecting himself, but I sure as hell care about protecting him.
    Crisis averted and wineglass in hand, I wander back into the living room. As far as I’m concerned, my mother can wait until hell freezes over for me to call her back.
    “So, what are we watching