Waking to reality
1394 Words
The rest of the day passed in a strange stillness.
Mariela tried to focus on her tasks, but her mind kept drifting back to Dante’s words—You’ll come with me to the resort. He hadn’t explained why. He hadn’t softened his tone. Yet the permission itself felt monumental, as though a door had been unlocked somewhere inside her.
She caught herself watching him more closely.
Dante was unchanged—precise, distant, commanding. But beneath that controlled exterior, she sensed something restrained, something watchful. Every time she moved too suddenly or lingered too long in one place, his attention flickered toward her before he forced it away.
By evening, Valeria noticed.
“You look pleased,” Valeria said casually over dinner, swirling her wine. “Did something interesting happen today?”
Mariela smiled faintly.
“I’m going somewhere tomorrow.”
Valeria’s fingers stilled.
“Where?”
“The resort.”
Dante didn’t look up.
Valeria recovered quickly, her smile returning, thin and practiced.
“Oh? That’s unexpected. Are you sure you’re ready for such… stimulation?”
“I asked for it,” Mariela said. “And Dante agreed.”
Valeria’s gaze slid toward him.
“Did he?”
“Yes,” Dante replied flatly. “I did.”
Something dark passed through Valeria’s eyes—too quick for Mariela to catch, but not for Dante.
That night, Mariela packed quietly. She didn’t know why her hands trembled as she folded her clothes, only that anticipation and unease coiled together in her chest.
She slept restlessly.
The next morning, the drive to the resort felt longer than it was.
When they arrived, Mariela stepped out of the car and froze.
The air felt different here—lighter, sharper. The sound of waves in the distance brushed against her senses like a whisper she almost understood.
Her breath hitched.
Dante noticed immediately.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied quickly. “Just… overwhelmed.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding.
“Stay close.”
They entered the main building together.
The reaction was subtle—but undeniable.
Some staff members paused mid-step. Others stiffened before lowering their gazes. A few exchanged glances, confused, uncertain.
Mariela didn’t notice.
She was too busy fighting the strange sensation blooming in her chest—the sense that she had been here before, that her body remembered even if her mind did not.
Once inside Dante’s private office, he closed the door behind them.
“You asked to work,” he said. “So here’s how this will go.”
She stood straighter.
“I’m listening.”
“You’ll be my assistant while we’re here. You’ll observe operations, attend meetings, manage schedules. You answer to me only.”
She blinked.
“That’s it?”
“That’s more than enough,” Dante replied.
She nodded slowly.
“I won’t disappoint you.”
“I’m not worried about that,” he said, and for the first time, something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
It happened late afternoon.
Mariela was organizing reports when raised voices echoed from the corridor. She looked up just as a young staff member rushed past the open door, panic etched across his face.
“There’s a problem,” he said breathlessly when he spotted Dante. “A guest collapse—kitchen wing.”
The word kitchen struck something sharp inside her.
Her vision blurred.
A flash—heat, metal, movement, her hands working fast—
She staggered.
Dante was at her side instantly.
“Mariela.”
“I—” she pressed a hand to her temple. “I don’t know what just—”
“Stay here,” he ordered, firm but low.
But she shook her head.
“No. Please. Let me help. I feel like I can.”
That was what frightened him.
He held her gaze for a long moment, then made a decision he knew he would regret.
“Alright,” he said. “But you don’t leave my side.”The kitchen was chaos—staff scrambling, voices overlapping.
Mariela didn’t hesitate.
She moved instinctively, issuing calm instructions without realizing she was doing it.
“Clear space.”
“Lay him flat.”
“Someone get water—no, wait.”
The staff stared.
Dante stared.
She knelt beside the unconscious guest, hands steady, mind eerily clear. For a brief moment, she wasn’t confused or afraid.
She was certain.
When it was over and the situation stabilized, silence followed.
Mariela looked around, suddenly aware of herself.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I did that.”
Dante said nothing.
He couldn’t.
Because in that moment, he knew.
Her memory wasn’t gone.
It was waiting.
The moment the situation in the kitchen settled, Dante turned toward Mariela.
“Come,” he said.
It wasn’t a request.
She followed him out, her legs unsteady, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. The corridor felt narrower than before, the air heavier.
Once inside his office, Dante shut the door.
“Speak,” he said.
She lifted her gaze, startled by the abrupt command.
“I didn’t mean to interfere.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She swallowed.
“I don’t know why I did it. I just… reacted.”
“Reacting without instruction is unacceptable,” Dante replied coolly.
“But someone was hurt,” she said, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t just stand there.”
“That is not your decision to make,” he said flatly.
Her fingers curled into her palms.
“I helped.”
“Yes,” Dante agreed. “And that will not become a pattern.”
She searched his face for something—approval, understanding.
There was none.
“You’re done for today,” he continued. “We’re leaving.”
---
The car ride was silent.
Mariela stared out the window, replaying the moment in her head. She didn’t know whether to feel ashamed or confused.
Finally, she spoke.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Dante didn’t look at her.
“You did something uncontrolled.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is,” he replied.
She said nothing after that.
Valeria was waiting in the sitting room when they arrived.
“You’re back early,” she said smoothly. “I thought she was meant to stay longer today.”
“She won’t,” Dante answered.
Valeria’s eyes flicked to Mariela.
“Why? Too much stimulation?”
“No,” Dante said. “Too much independence.”
Mariela stiffened.
Valeria smiled faintly.
“I see.”
The next day, Dante noticed her hesitation immediately.
“You’re distracted,” he said without looking up.
“I didn’t sleep,” she replied.
“That’s not my concern,” he said. “Accuracy is.”
She nodded and returned to work.
Later that afternoon, Valeria leaned against the doorframe.
“You handled yourself well yesterday,” she said lightly.
“I was told not to repeat it,” Mariela replied.
Valeria laughed softly.
“Of course you were.”
Mariela frowned.
“Why does that sound like you expected it?”
Valeria’s smile sharpened.
“Because some people don’t like being reminded of what others are capable of.”
That evening, Dante spoke again.
“We’ll return to the resort tomorrow.”
Mariela looked up.
“After yesterday?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated.
“Should I… do anything differently?”
“You’ll do exactly as instructed,” he said. “Nothing more.”
“And if something happens again?”
“It won’t,” Dante replied coldly. “Because you won’t intervene.”
Her throat tightened.
“I understand.”
The familiarity struck harder this time.
Mariela slowed her steps unconsciously.
Dante noticed immediately.
“Focus,” he said.
“I’m trying,” she replied quietly. “But it feels like I’ve been here before.”
“That feeling is irrelevant,” he said. “You don’t act on feelings.”
She stopped walking.
“So what am I allowed to act on?”
“Direction,” Dante answered. “Mine.”
She nodded.
And followed.
Later, alone, Mariela pressed her hands against the cold balcony railing.
She felt watched.
Not by Dante.
By the past.
And somewhere in the mansion, Valeria was already preparing to turn that pressure into something far more dangerous.
- Writer
