Chapter 4
1321 Words
Vanessa’s POV
The horror in his eyes reminds me of Anna. I scramble to my feet and begin assembling the broken frame, trying not to imagine the punishment I’d receive for this act. A glass piece rips my palm open, but I don’t stop.
“Leave,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to.” My voice cracks and my vision blurs with tears.
“I said, leave.” This time he’s louder.
I get up and place the shards I’ve picked up, along with the frame, on the table. Dark crimson liquid leaks from both hands as I scurry past him.
“Wait…”
I obey, glued to the floor without turning. Tears had begun streaming down my face. He turns toward me and picks up my hands, examining them.
“f**k—”
His jaw locks, the muscles in his cheeks twitch. He grips my wrist, firm but not enough to hurt me, and leads me out. I try not to stumble while keeping up with his long strides. He notices and reduces his pace.
“Sit.”
He gestures at the bed before bringing out a first aid box from the closet. I focus on my knees, trying to avoid eye contact with him. He cleans up the injury and pulls out tiny bits of shards lodged in my skin. His hands move swiftly, like a professional.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
We both speak at the same time. A smile tugs at my lips.
“I’m sorry I wandered into your personal space and destroyed your stuff,” I spit out.
He just nods.
“I shouldn’t have yelled.” His calm tone slices through the air.
“I caused it—I deserved that.”
“No, you didn’t deserve that,” he counters.
He takes a deep breath before continuing. “You see, it’s her anniversary today…”
I gasp. I didn’t know what it felt like to lose someone you love to the cold hands of death.
“I’m really sorry.” I place my now bandaged fingers on his.
He slips his hand from under mine before he gets up.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he says before stepping out.
My chest tightens. I’d also be mad if someone broke what belonged to a late loved one. I should do something to uplift his mood since I might have worsened it… or maybe I should just remain calm. I might just have to go with the former.
I head to the kitchen and ask the chef for Adrian’s favorite dish. I dismiss him and take it on myself to prepare it. My hands hurt, but I hold in the pain. Even though I hated him for how he got me, I can’t deny the fact that my little time here is easily the best I’ve had in a long while.
By the time the food is ready, I serve the table and even decorate it with flowers to make it special. Adrian walks in—he looks better than he did that afternoon.
“I made your favorite, leek and potato soup,” I say, grinning widely.
His lips curl a little. “Let me see your injury.” His gaze sweeps over me.
“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
“I don’t take no for an answer.”
I huff before showing it to him.
“You should have let the chef handle this. Not when you’re hurt.”
“It’s fine, for real.”
“Just try the food.”
I gesture toward the seat. He takes his seat, and I also sit beside him. I watch him take his first bite, then another, until he clears the plate.
“Do you like it?” My eyes widen, waiting for a positive response.
“It’s good. Thank you.”
I look at my untouched plate and proceed to take a bite. The first taste hits my tongue—and I freeze. It’s awful, salty and bitter all at once. The texture is wrong too. I force myself to chew, but the taste only grows worse. My stomach twists, and I grab a napkin, trying not to gag as I spit it out quickly.
I look at Adrian, who’s now smiling at me.
“You should have said something!” I cry out.
He only folds his arms and smiles.
“I’m really sorry—”
I stare at his plate. He cleared the whole thing. I pull strands of my hair together to cover my face, hoping the ground would just open and swallow me.
“Get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere.”
I make sure I don’t look at him until he’s left. Oh Lord, he’s tired of me. What if he wants to abandon me somewhere? I’ve caused enough damage already, and he must want to pay me back.
I follow Adrian into the gadget store. Everyone keeps taking a second glance at him—he’s very handsome, yes, but he had to be a popular person to keep getting that much attention. The last phone I used was in high school, and Anna had seized it because she felt it was corrupting me.
I glance at a sleek black phone. “You like that?”
I almost say yes until I see the price tag.
“No—no, it’s too expensive.”
Adrian’s forehead scrunches. “Don’t worry about that, darling.” His voice seeps beneath my skin, dark and soft. “Take whatever you want here.”
I hesitate for a while, but the moment I reach for the gadget, he does the same. Our fingers brush slightly—the affected skin tingles, sending electric sparks all through my body.
He drops his hand, and I pick up the phone. “Thank you,” I say.
“Just pick anything you like. Don’t worry about the price.”
Every day I get to know this man, the softer he is to me. I wander away for a moment and find myself in the books section.
A man approaches me and picks up the book I was scouting. “Hmm… A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. Should I be scared?” the man says.
I reply with a faint smile. He looks quite older, his hair salt and pepper.
“Lucien.” He holds out a hand to me.
I don’t take his hand or reply. I just continue my focus on the books.
“I guess you don’t like people—or you have enough friends,” he says, trying so hard to get me to talk to him, but I don’t.
A familiar scent hits my nose. Adrian.
His eyes are dark as he approaches me with quickened steps. He stands in front of me, shielding my body from the stranger.
“I don’t appreciate you talking to my wife, Lucien.” Adrian’s voice screams authority.
“Don’t be rude, nephew. I was only saying hello to your wife. You didn’t invite me to your wedding,” the stranger responds.
Adrian faces me and picks up my wrist. “Let’s leave here.”
When we’re heading out, I ask, “Who’s he?”
“He’s my uncle.”
“You seem mad at him.”
Adrian doesn’t say another word.
When we’re heading out, an emergency alert appears on the screen of my new mobile. His phone also shows the same. He runs a hand through his hair. “There’s a storm coming. We can’t make it home tonight.”
A storm? What? “Then where are we going to stay?”
“There’s a hotel nearby.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise when he mentions the hotel. I begin to imagine all sorts of scenarios—just us, together in a room. My core throbs.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
- Writer
