Teeth And Silk
983 Words
Aria
Dr. Ferrante was not at all what I expected.
He was small and rumpled, with glasses constantly sliding down his nose. He looked like a man who forgot he was important.
He didn't look dangerous. He just looked… wrong for this house.
He shook my hand.
It was normal. My skin didn't crawl, no pain and no sparks flew. I don't know why that actually disappointed me. I guess I wanted some kind of sign that I wasn't just losing my mind.
Alessio watched us.
His eyes were sharp, like he was waiting for me to explode or catch fire. When I didn't, his jaw tightened. He looked almost annoyed that nothing went wrong.
“Sit,” Ferrante said.
I did. The chair was cold and smelled too much like lemon bleach. Everything in this estate was like that; too clean, too expensive, pretending it wasn't a fortress.
Alessio stood by the window with his arms crossed. He looked like a statue carved out of spite.
“You can wait outside,” I told him.
“I’m fine here.”
“I wasn't asking.”
He didn't argue. He just… left. No warning, no snappy comeback. He just walked out and shut the door.
Ferrante pushed his glasses up. “That doesn’t happen often.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Him leaving when someone tells him to. Usually, people are too busy trembling in his presence a to give orders.”
That felt somehow strange.
The tests started. Blood pressure, reflexes, the usual medical dance. I answered his questions on autopilot until he stopped. His pen hovered over the chart.
“Any unusual sensations when you touch him, Aria?”
My fingers stiffened against the armrest. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Warmth? Temperature shift? Dizziness?”
My throat felt tight. I shouldn't tell him. I should keep it to myself. "You already know, don't you?"
He didn't deny it. “Alessio described something similar. He said it felt like his condition… stopped fighting him.”
I looked at my hands. They looked like normal hands. Messy cuticles, pale skin. "That’s not possible."
“Data doesn't care about what's possible,” he said quietly.
The door opened before I could respond. Alessio was back. He didn't knock. He just existed in the room again, filling up all the oxygen.
“I want a controlled test,” he said. His voice was flat, like he was ordering a steak.
Ferrante nodded. “Sixty seconds hand contact. I’ll monitor the spikes with the monitor.”
Alessio held out his hand. It was steady.
I placed mine in his, and the warmth hit me like a physical weight. It felt like my body recognized him before my brain could even process the touch.
Beep.
The monitor on the desk spiked. Ferrante’s pen started flying.
“Anything?” Ferrante asked.
“It's warm,” I said. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.
“Pain?” he asked Alessio.
“Nothing.”
Alessio was too calm.
Usually, when things feel this intense, people react. He just stood there like a wall.
“Stop.”
I pulled away. Cold air rushed in, and it felt like someone had just turned off the sun. Alessio didn't move his hand immediately. It stayed there, suspended, like it didn't understand why I’d let go.
Ferrante stared at the screen for a long time.
“Remarkable,” he whispered. “Your toxicity levels dropped, Alessio. Temporarily, but they dropped.”
I stared at my palm. Nothing special. Except everything had just changed.
“She isn’t a trigger,” Ferrante said, his voice turning sharp. “She’s regulating you.”
“I need air,” I muttered.
I walked out onto the terrace. The grey sky felt like it was pressing down on me, but at least the wind was real.
Click. Click. Click.
I heard heels behind me and I turned around.
Bianca was standing there in a red coat that cost more than my life. She had sunglasses on even though there was zero sun.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said.
“I didn’t know you were still hanging around,” I shot back.
She didn't get angry. She just smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. “Leave him, Aria. It’s an advice, not a threat.”
I exhaled. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“It’s accurate.” She leaned on the railing, looking out at the gardens. “He doesn’t keep people. He studies them like bugs under glass. And when he’s bored? He pins them to a board or throws them away.”
I stayed still because I’d heard Alessio say almost the exact same thing.
She's a mission.
Bianca turned to me. “I know why you’re here. I know about Vittorio and the arrangement.”
The word 'arrangement' felt like a slap. Not a marriage. A contract.
“And I know,” she added softly, “what happens to the women who came before you.”
My blood went cold. “What women?”
She just smiled and picked up her bag. “They never stay long, honey. Trust me.”
She walked away, leaving me with the wind and a hollow feeling in my chest.
My phone buzzed.
Stay the course. Don’t let him see your face right now. — V
I stopped breathing. He was watching.
I turned around, and Alessio was standing in the doorway. He’d been there the whole time.
“Who was that?” he asked.
I tried to hide my phone, but I was too slow. I’m a terrible liar. My heart was practically screaming through my ribs.
“Wrong number,” I said.
He stepped closer. “I don't like lies, Aria. And I really don't like people talking to my father behind my back.”
- Writer
