CHAPTER 14: BOUND BY FATE.
1699 Words
The sunlight slipping through the curtains felt strange that morning — too bright, too calm, almost mocking. Anastasia blinked awake, her body heavy with the kind of tiredness that sleep couldn’t fix. For once, she hadn’t dreamt of the castle, or the watcher, or Michael. Just silence. But even that silence felt suspicious.
She lay still for a moment, replaying his voice in her mind.
At least if you’re with me, I can protect you.
Those words had comforted her last night… but in the morning light, they scared her. Protection always came with a price — and she wasn’t sure what his was yet.
Mia was already in the kitchen, humming softly as she made coffee. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, handing Anastasia a cup. “You look like you fought your dreams again.”
Anastasia forced a faint smile. “No dreams this time. Just… thoughts.”
“About him?” Mia asked knowingly, stirring her mug. “Did you decide what to do?”
Anastasia sighed, taking a sip. “Not yet. I’ll talk to him after work. Maybe I just need time to think.”
Mia nodded. “Well, whatever you choose, make sure it’s what you want, not what fear tells you to do.”
---
At the hardware store, Anastasia tried to focus on restocking paint cans and organizing invoices, but her mind kept drifting. Every little noise made her jump.
Mr. Harris noticed. “You’re awfully quiet today, Ana. Everything alright?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Just a long night, that’s all.”
But it wasn’t. Because by noon, her phone vibrated — and everything inside her froze.
An unknown number.
One message.
> You can’t hide behind him forever.
Her breath caught in her throat. She looked around the store, her eyes scanning every corner — the aisles, the windows, the customers. Her pulse raced.
“Everything okay?” Tom asked, stepping closer.
Anastasia quickly locked her screen and forced a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
---
By late afternoon, she heard a familiar voice near the counter. Smooth, calm — and unmistakably his.
“Do you sell varnish for oak wood?” Michael’s tone carried a quiet authority that made both Tom and Mr. Harris straighten up.
“Of course, sir,” Mr. Harris said quickly, leading him to the aisle. But Anastasia knew he wasn’t there for varnish.
When she stepped out from behind the counter, Michael’s eyes found hers instantly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said softly, almost teasing.
“Maybe I have,” she whispered.
---
Outside, he waited by his car until she finished her shift. The moment she stepped out, he opened the passenger door for her. “Get in, Anastasia. I’ll take you home.”
She hesitated but eventually got in, her heart pounding.
Halfway through the drive, she blurted out, “I got another message today. From an unknown number.”
Michael’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What did it say?”
“That I can’t hide behind you forever.”
He cursed under his breath. “That’s it, Anastasia. You’re not staying there"
The grand doors opened, and a man in a black suit welcomed them in with a polite bow. The air inside smelled of sandalwood and old money — everything gleamed, from the marble floors to the crystal chandelier above.
Anastasia followed behind Michael quietly, her heels tapping against the floor. Her eyes darted around the spacious hall — portraits of powerful men, all with the same piercing gaze as Michael.
“Father, Uncle,” Michael said as they entered the dining room, his tone confident but respectful.
Two men sat at the long mahogany table. His father, Alexender Demetriou, had a commanding presence — silver hair, tailored suit, and eyes that could read through silence. His uncle, Stefano, looked younger, sharp-featured, and far more observant than he let on.
“This is Anastasia,” Michael continued, his hand resting lightly on her back. “She’s the woman I told you about.”
Anastasia’s heart skipped. The woman he told them about?
She smiled nervously. “Good evening, Mr. Demetriou. Mr. Stefano.”
Alex ’s voice was deep and calm. “Welcome, Anastasia. Please, sit. Michael has mentioned you quite a few times lately.”
She glanced at Michael in surprise, then took her seat beside him. The table was set elegantly, golden plates and silverware shining under warm light.
As dinner began, the conversation flowed around her — business, politics, and names she didn’t recognize. Then suddenly, the attention shifted to her.
“So, Anastasia,” Stefano said, leaning slightly forward. “Tell us about yourself. Where do you live?”
She cleared her throat softly. “I live off campus… in a small apartment with my roommate, Mia.”
“And your family?” Alex asked. His gaze wasn’t unkind, but it held weight. “Are they here in London?”
“No, sir,” she replied carefully. “My family’s back home in Cape Town. I came here on a scholarship.”
Stefano nodded, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Smart and beautiful — a dangerous combination, Michael.”
Michael chuckled softly but said nothing.
Alex folded his hands. “How old are you, my dear?”
“I’m twenty-one,” she answered, trying to sound steady.
“Ah,” Alex said, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re young. That’s good. Youth brings clarity, but also confusion — something my son knows all too well.”
Anastasia wasn’t sure how to respond. She forced a polite smile, but her nerves buzzed beneath her calm expression.
For a moment, she could feel Stefano’s eyes on her, studying her every move. Then he said quietly, “Tell me, Anastasia… do you believe in fate?”
The question caught her off guard. “Fate?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he said. “That certain people are meant to cross paths — even when it seems impossible.”
Her heart raced. For a brief moment, her mind flashed to the watcher, the dream, the bracelet, the tie. She swallowed hard. “I… I guess I do,” she said. Alex gave a small approving nod. “Then you might understand our family better than most.”
The rest of the dinner passed in careful conversation. Michael was protective, often changing the subject when questions became too personal. Still, Anastasia could feel the curiosity radiating from both men — as if they already knew something about her she didn’t.
When dinner ended, Alex stood and said calmly, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Anastasia. I hope this won’t be the last time.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, forcing a small smile.
As they left the mansion and stepped into the cool night air, Anastasia exhaled deeply. “That was… intense.”
Michael looked at her with a faint smile. “You did great.”
She glanced back at the house one last time — through the window, she swore she saw Stefano still watching her, his expression unreadable.
The drive back was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the engine and the soft jazz playing from the radio. Anastasia sat still, her hands folded on her lap, replaying every moment of the dinner in her mind. The way Michael’s uncle looked at her… the strange question about fate… it all made her chest tighten.
Michael glanced at her from the driver’s seat, breaking the silence. “You were amazing in there,” he said softly.
Anastasia gave a small laugh. “Amazing? I could barely breathe. Your father and uncle… they’re intimidating.”
He smiled faintly. “Yeah, they have that effect on people. But you handled them better than most.”
She looked out the window, the city lights flickering by. After a moment, she asked quietly, “Michael… your uncle — what did he mean when he asked if I believe in fate?”
Michael hesitated. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Stefano likes to test people,” he said. “He believes fate is real — that it decides who we meet, who we lose, who we protect.”
“And you?” she asked softly. “Do you believe in fate?”
He turned to her, eyes deep and unreadable. “After meeting you? Maybe I do.”
Her heart skipped, but before she could respond, Michael continued, “There’s something about you, Anastasia. I can’t explain it… but you’re connected to all of this somehow — my family, the man who’s been watching you, even the dream you had. It’s like fate has been pushing us toward each other.”
Anastasia turned to face him, her eyes wide. “You think your family knows something about that man?”
Michael’s jaw tightened. “Maybe. And if they do, I’ll find out.”
The car stopped in front of her apartment building. The soft glow from the streetlights bathed them in gold. For a second, neither moved.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said finally, her voice quiet.
Michael leaned closer, his gaze fixed on her. “You don’t have to thank me, Anastasia. I just want you safe.”
Her heart raced. For a moment, their faces were inches apart — the world outside faded, just his breath and the soft warmth between them. Then she pulled back slightly, whispering, “Goodnight, Michael.”
He smiled, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. “Goodnight, Ana.”
She stepped out of the car, but before entering the building, she turned back. Michael was still watching her, his expression protective — yet shadowed by something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to say.
As the car drove off, Anastasia stood for a moment, feeling the cool breeze brush her skin. Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed movement — a dark figure at the end of the street, still and silent.
Her heart stopped. The watcher. Again.
She blinked once — and just like that, he was gone.
- Writer
