Beneath The Gilded Floor

Chapter 3: The Forgotten

"Oh wait! I forgot my purse!"

.

Cassius stopped in his tracks right as they reached the archway leading toward the grand gallery, raising an eyebrow with a dry, knowing smirk.

"Your purse," he repeated, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation as he loosened his arm from hers. "You'd probably forget your own name if I didn't keep track of you, Natalia. Go on, then. Run back to the library and grab it. I'll wait right here by the gallery entrance—don't wander off anywhere else while you're backtracking."

The footsteps paused, then abruptly reversed.

.

Thud, thud, thud.

.

Light, rapid, coming back this way—faster than before. A soft, frustrated groan filtered down through the thick wood, and then—right outside.

The sound of her footsteps stopped dead, hovering just on the other side of the heavy oak basement door. She was standing right there in the corridor, only inches away from where Hansel held his breath. His hands shook so violently he could barely keep his grip on the door handle. The proximity was intoxicating, a physical weight pressing against his chest that made it impossible to draw air.

“She's right there. She forgot her purse. She's standing right on top of my secret.”

His fingers curled tightly around the cold iron latch, a reckless, wild temptation blooming in his chest. All it would take was one small click. One tiny turn of the handle to c***k the door just a millimeter wide, just enough to let a sliver of darkness bleed out into the hall, or to catch the absolute, breathtaking sight of her standing alone in the shadows.

"Ah… here it is…"

She grabbed her purse, checking the inside—an instinctive habit to see if anything was missing, knowing her own tendency to misplace important things.

Cassius stood with his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his tailored trousers, leaning back slightly against the ornately carved pillar of the gallery archway. His eyes tracked her brief absence down the hall, a faint, proprietary smirk playing on his lips.

"Find it?" he called out down the corridor, his voice carrying effortlessly through the high-ceilinged space. "Or are we going to need to retrace every step you've taken today? Come back before you manage to lose something else, Natalia. My patience isn't quite as infinite as this estate."

The faint sound of rustling leather and the soft zip of a clasp drifted down through the thick grain of the oak door, painting a vivid, agonizing picture in the dark.

She found it.

His chest heaved, a hot, trembling wave of frustration and longing washing over him. She was standing out there, safe and untouchable in Cassius's world, checking her purse, entirely unaware that a pair of desperate, feverish eyes were burning straight through the wood just inches from where her hand rested.

His fingers tightened around the heavy iron latch on the inside of the door. He leaned his forehead against the cold timber, his breath hitching as he listened to the rustle of her clothes preparing to turn away.

"Don't leave..." he whispered into the dark, soundless vault, the plea slipping past his lips before he could stop it, too quiet for the world above to hear. "...Please... just look down for one second."

"Huh? Am I hallucinating?…"

She paused, casting a brief, puzzled glance down at the floor beneath her feet as a strange, chilling sensation brushed the back of her neck. But then she just shook her head, waving it off with a light laugh, and turned on her heel to hurry back toward the gallery.

"Cassius!! Let’s go, I want to walk to the gardens!!"