CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
637 Words
Chapter Forty-Eight
The following morning, the house was unusually quiet. Briella woke earlier than usual, the soft hum of the city outside filtering through the curtains. The night had left her restless—images of the lingering car, Grace’s sharp eyes, and Marcellus’s rare laugh chasing one another in her dreams.
She sat up slowly, pressing her palms against her knees. Why does it feel like every moment with him pulls me in deeper… even when danger keeps circling us?
A knock at her door startled her.
“Come in,” she called.
Annabel stepped in, holding a mug of steaming coffee. “I figured you didn’t sleep much,” she said gently.
Briella managed a tired smile. “You figured right.”
Annabel sat on the edge of the bed, her face more serious than usual. “I saw how Marcellus was with you last night. He… softens around you, Bri. Even with everything happening, you still make him let down his guard.”
Briella avoided her gaze, tracing the rim of the coffee cup. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a weakness.”
“It’s both,” Annabel replied softly. “But maybe that’s what makes it real.”
Before Briella could respond, a vibration from her phone pulled her attention. A message from Marcellus:
> Your driving lessons aren’t over. Driveway. 30 minutes. No excuses.
Her brows shot up. “He’s really not letting this go?”
Annabel chuckled, leaning back. “Oh, this I need to see. Don’t crash his car this time.”
---
Half an hour later, Briella found Marcellus leaning against his sleek black car, keys twirling around his finger. He looked every bit the picture of calm confidence, though his eyes carried that sharp alertness that never left him.
“You’re relentless,” she muttered as she walked up.
He smirked, opening the driver’s side door. “Get in.”
She slid into the seat, her heart pounding for reasons that had little to do with the car.
“Seatbelt,” he ordered.
Briella fastened it with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re bossier than any instructor I’ve ever seen.”
“Good,” he replied simply.
His instructions came firm but patient. “Foot on the brake. Smooth, Briella. Feel the car, don’t fight it.”
She tried, and this time the car eased forward with less jerking than before. Her grip on the wheel loosened, her shoulders dropping as she caught the rhythm.
Marcellus allowed a faint smile. “Better. You’re learning.”
“I’m still a disaster,” she muttered, though her lips twitched.
“For now,” he said, his voice low enough to stir something in her chest. “But you’ll get there.”
For the next hour, the driveway echoed with a mix of cautious turns, clumsy stops, and bursts of laughter when she overcorrected. By the end, Briella leaned back, flushed and grinning.
“I guess I survived another round,” she said.
“You did more than survive,” Marcellus answered, his gaze lingering on her. “You got better. That’s what matters.”
The weight in his eyes made her chest tighten, but before she could respond, Annabel’s voice rang from the balcony. “Not bad, Briella! You only nearly hit the cone twice today!”
Briella groaned, burying her face in her hands, while Marcellus chuckled—a rare, quiet sound.
---
Later that evening, as Briella prepared to retire, Clara discreetly handed her a note slipped under the front door. No sender. No signature. Just one line:
> You can’t trust the people closest to him.
Briella’s chest tightened. She crushed the paper in her fist, glancing toward Marcellus’s closed office door.
The shadow game was far from over.
---
✨ End of Chapter Forty-Eight
- Writer
