Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             “Hi, Kane.” I offer him a smile, hoping it doesn’t come out awkward.

                             Silence falls between us. He must think I’m nuts for returning. I gauge his expression but it’s only the usual neutral features.

                             I open my mouth to ask him how he’s been, but he cuts me off. “Please, come in.”

                             The large gate opens with haunting metal clanks.

                             The wisest thing to say is, “No, thanks.” But I seem to have lost that part of me, too, since I follow Kane inside without a word.

                             I swallow the lump in my throat. Why am I both scared and excited to see Aaron again?

                             Kane guides me to a golf cart and drives us through long streets decorated with trees and tall lamps. Soon after, I lose track of how many twists and turns we take. This place is like a freaking maze.

                             When we stop, it isn’t in front of Aaron’s quarters. The outside is similar, with a large double golden door and beige abstract patterns. The stony pavement is a rare shade of blue, similar to Aegean, a lot wider than what I remember. And the knight and jaguar statue is in front of the door. This isn’t where I used to stay.

                             Kane leads me inside a hall akin to the lavish one in Aaron’s quarters, but this one is showier. There are a lot more statues of jaguars, knights, and horses. Large paintings of men in medieval time.

                             Before I get the chance to ask him about what’s going on, Kane nods and retreats. My neck cranes to the stairs. They’re bigger, less carpeted, more marbled. I frown. Did Aaron move quarters?

                             The door clicks open and I straighten, running a sweaty hand over my hair. I wipe the invisible dust off my short summer dress. I wore the teal blue one, my favourite and the best I have. Was I thinking too much about this? Oh, dear. This is a lot harder than I predicted.

                             “Mae, how do you do?”

                             My stomach sinks at the different voice even before my gaze connects with Tristan’s. He walks with confident strides. His umber suit accentuates his well-built body.

                             “I’m fine, thank you,” I mutter, looking behind him.

                             “Aaron isn’t here,” Tristan says as if reading my mind. He unbuttons his jacket and sits across from me. “Would you like to drink something?”

                             My nerves reach the edge of a breakdown. When I speak, my voice is weak. “What do you mean he’s not here? Where is he?”

                             Tristan stares at me for several long seconds, unblinking, building an uneasy weight in my chest. “He didn’t say. Asked not to search for him until he comes back on his own.”

                             The uncomfortable weight tears through my heart. It takes everything to keep my tears at bay. I shout. “How can you not search for him? What if those killers come after him? What if his mental state gets worse? What if—”

                             “Easy, Mae.” Tristan cuts me off in a firm tone, his eyes soft. As soft as Tristan can get.

                             I pant, wiping my face with the back of my hand. I won’t break down. I won’t break down—

                             “He let you go.” Tristan eyebrows furrow. “Isn’t that what you want?”