5. Curse Of Cold
848 Words
~CATALINA~
“Shh.”
The heat of the coffee burned my lips as I took a sip. Too hot. I stirred it again and set it aside to cool, watching the steam curl upward. I had sent a message to Giovanni—a man I trusted with my life, the only one who truly understood me—about this sudden marriage. No reply.
Two days.
It’s been two days since I last saw him too.
Not that I’m counting. Not that I want to.
This house is so large it swallows sound, swallows time. I could disappear in it, and Ezran Vitale wouldn’t even notice.
I laughed at that thought. When has he ever noticed me?
He thinks I’m Camila. That’s the only reason I’m here.
That morning, when I pulled open the closet doors, I froze.
Dresses. Silks. Reds and blacks. Necklines cut far too low, fabric too sheer—the kind Camila wore when she wanted the world to look at her. They hung there like ghosts, her taste, her boldness, her shadow pressing against me even here.
This wasn’t me.
It was never me.
But I couldn’t wear those dresses. If I did, I would freeze to death.
An accident left me with this curse. No tolerance for cold. Even a brush of ice against my skin would leave me shivering for hours.
That’s why almost no one knew I existed. Why I was forced to stay hidden behind Camila. Summer drains me, winter would kill me.
She was the fire.
I was… ash.
And I hated that I still lived in her reflection. Even now that she was gone. Even here, in this house that wasn’t hers, Ezran made me feel like I didn’t exist.
And maybe I don’t. Not to him. Not to the world. Catalina Morales doesn’t exist.
No matter how bitter that truth was, I still forced myself to pick something I could actually wear. Not perfect, but at least enough to keep me warm.
So here I am—still hiding. A flimsy dress thrown over a tank top.
The sudden knock at my door made me flinch, the sound loud against the silence. It's late evening. Who would knock at this hour?
“Mam.”
I exhaled in relief. Maria. It's dinner time.
I scrambled from my seat, wincing as my feet touched the cold floor. A shiver ran up my legs instantly.
I really need to buy some socks.
I slipped into my slippers and opened the door.
“Dinner’s ready, Maria?” I asked.
The elderly woman smiled kindly. “Don Vitale is waiting for you.”
My hand froze on the door handle. The words echoed in my skull, sharp and heavy.
Ezran is here. And he’s waiting for me.
Why did he return?
Well, it’s his house, Cathy. You’re the freeloader.
“Why is he waiting?” I asked, forcing the words out, my throat suddenly dry.
“I don’t know, mam.” Maria only smiled again and turned down the hall.
I pressed a hand to my stomach, willing the twist of nerves to settle. I smoothed my dress, as if a few neat folds could turn me into Camila, could make me belong.
I followed Maria through the empty halls, the air colder here, pressing in. And as soon as we stepped into the main hall, a chill ran down my spine.
There he was.
Ezran.
Sitting on the couch like he owned the air itself. His shoulders relaxed, posture effortless, but it was his eyes that stole the breath from my lungs.
They were sharp. Predatory. And when he tilted his head to look at me, they seemed almost merciless.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just looked. His gaze dragged across me, and I suddenly felt stripped bare.
“Change,” he said. A command, not a request.
My voice cracked. “Why?”
“I’m taking you somewhere.”
“Where?”
The scrape of leather against the floor as he rose made my pulse jump. The space between us vanished with just four strides, and
suddenly he was towering above me. My breath caught, my body instinctively leaning back, though there was nowhere to run.
I dropped my eyes to the floor, unable to meet that gaze.
“You don’t ask questions when I speak.” His voice was low, like a warning rumble. “Understood?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Change.”
Heat crawled up my neck, shame burning through me. My lips parted. “I—”
“Now.”
Before I could say more, his hand closed around my wrist. Firm. Hot. My skin burned where he touched, pulse racing wildly under his grip. I gasped as he yanked me forward, stumbling into his shadow.
“Since you’re wasting time,” he said, eyes like steel pinning me in place, “I’ll change you myself.”
The hell?
The world tilted, the hall stretching long and endless before me, as his grip dragged me forward—unyielding, inescapable—pulling me deeper into his house.
- Writer
