The clock on the wall ticked louder than I expected as the evening crept closer, each second an invisible weight settling between us. I stood at the foot of the grand staircase, pulling the hem of my dress down, even though it wasn’t riding up. I felt exposed, not because of the dress, but because I was bracing for what was coming.
Matteo had left me standing alone, the weight of expectation pressing down, while he disappeared somewhere behind the heavy oak doors. I didn’t know if he was waiting in the dining room, or pacing somewhere in the shadowed corridors, but I knew this: I was done being surprised by what he did or didn't do. I was bracing myself for the next move, just as I always had.
The hallway stretched, each step an act of defiance, each breath a tiny revolt. When I reached
