Chapter 6
1507 Words
The weeks blurred together in a haze of silence.
Day after day, Isla remained inside the room Matteo had given her, four walls that pressed closer each time she opened her eyes. At first, she thought she could endure it. She told herself it was temporary, that it was safer this way. After all, wasn't that what Matteo insisted? That no one should see her, no one should know she was here?
So she stayed.
She slept too much. She stared at the ceiling. Sometimes she curled up by the door, just to hear footsteps echo faintly in the hall, reminding her she wasn't alone in this house even if it felt like it.
Then, one morning, she found it.
The balcony.
The curtains had always been drawn, but when she tugged them aside, light spilled across the room, blinding in its warmth. Her chest had tightened at the sight-the open sky, the distant city breathing freely while she was caged here. After that, the balcony became her sanctuary.
She would step out, the cold iron rail steady beneath her hands, and whisper to herself. Sometimes memories slipped past her lips, her mother's cold voice, her father's demands, the nightmare of that wedding she'd fled. Sometimes it was just nonsense, little things to remind herself she still had a voice, that she hadn't gone completely mad in the quiet.
Still, the silence weighed heavy.
The air inside the room was thick with secrets she didn't want to face, and each day she found herself yearning more and more for something anything beyond these walls.
So when she finally opened her door, it wasn't courage. It was desperation.
Her heart thudded as she stepped into the corridor. Every creak of the floorboards made her flinch, every shadow felt like it was watching her. She shouldn't be here. Matteo had been firm, don't leave the room. But she couldn't stand it anymore. Not another day, not another hour.
She turned the corner, her breath shaky, her pulse racing with the thrill and terror of disobedience
And collided with him.
Her body jolted back, a small gasp slipping past her lips as her eyes snapped upward.
He wasn't Matteo. He wasn't a maid. He wasn't anyone she had ever seen before.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, every line of his face carved with quiet authority. His presence was overwhelming, stealing the air from her lungs. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, locked on hers, and she felt as though the walls she'd built around herself cracked under the weight of it.
For weeks she had hidden. For weeks she had gone unseen.
And now, here she was.... exposed.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"What are you doing here?"
Her lips parted, but nothing came. Words failed her. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, her fingers curled tightly around the hem of her dress as if clinging to it would keep her steady.
She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be seen.
But she was.
And it was him who had found her.
"I-I just needed water," she stammered, the lie scraping her throat as her eyes clashed with his cold, unyielding ones.
"Liar," he murmured, his frown deepening. The word struck her like a slap.
Her chest tightened as she dropped her gaze, unable to hold the storm in his eyes any longer. They cut through her, sharp and merciless, as though he could see right through every layer of her fragile excuse.
"Go to your room," he ordered, his tone clipped, final.
She didn't think twice. Fear propelled her feet before reason could catch up. She spun around, rushing back the way she came, her pulse hammering in her ears.
But as soon as she reached the end of the corridor, she froze.
Her chest heaved as realization crashed over her.
She didn't know where her room was.
Her head turned left, then right, panic rising with every second that passed. Every hallway looked the same high ceilings, dark walls, doors she didn't recognize. She had only ever been led, never trusted to find her own way.
Her throat tightened painfully. She knew if she went back, if she told him she was lost, that man, whoever he was, would only get angrier. He already looked at her like she was an intruder, like she had no business breathing the same air as him.
Her palms went clammy, her body trembling with indecision. Should she knock on one of the doors and hope it was hers? Should she hide until he was gone?
Her mind screamed that she had no choice. That sooner or later he would notice she hadn't obeyed, and his voice already so cold would rise, sharper, louder.
She swallowed hard, pressing her back against the wall as though it might swallow her whole.
She couldn't go back. She couldn't face him again.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, every breath shallow as she pressed herself tighter against the wall. Maybe if she stayed still enough, maybe if she just disappeared into the shadows, no one would notice her.
The quiet of the corridor pressed down on her, deafening in its weight.
And then....
Footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Coming closer.
Her stomach dropped, her heart slamming against her ribs so hard it hurt. She didn't need to look to know who it was. Some part of her already knew, already felt the heaviness of his presence before he even appeared.
When he came into view, her breath caught.
It was him. The same man she had bumped into, the same cold eyes that had pinned her in place only moments ago.
Her heart skipped painfully, then raced faster, faster, as though trying to outrun the fear surging through her veins. She couldn't look away.
He walked toward her without hurry, his tall frame cutting through the dim light like he belonged to the darkness itself. There was no anger in his expression now, but the sharpness in his gaze made her knees weaken all the same.
She clutched her fingers together to stop them from trembling, forcing herself not to shrink back further even though every instinct screamed at her to run.
When his shadow fell over her, she felt the air leave her lungs.
He stopped in front of her, so close she could see the curve of his frown, the unreadable look in his eyes.
"You don't know where your room is," he said quietly, as if he had been watching her the whole time.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Because he was right.
And because his voice, low and steady, was more terrifying than if he had shouted.
Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth, but only a soft sound escaped.
"I... I was just-"
"Lying," he cut in, his tone sharp, leaving no room for protest. His eyes stayed on hers, steady and piercing, until she had to look away.
Heat rushed to her face, shame mingling with fear, her fingers twisting against the fabric of her dress. She felt smaller under his gaze, like he could see straight through her, stripping away every excuse she had clung to.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she didn't dare argue. The silence stretched, heavy, suffocating.
Then, at last, he spoke again, his voice low.
"Your room's by the right."
Her head snapped up, startled not just by the words but by the fact that he had said anything other than a command to leave. His expression gave nothing away, his face carved from stone, but his eyes those cold eyes lingered on her for a second longer before he stepped past her without another word.
Her heart thudded violently against her chest, her legs frozen in place until the echo of his footsteps began to fade. Only then did she dare to breathe again.
~~
Leo's eyes snapped to Matteo, who only grinned.
"I mean, it's not like she's invading your privacy," Matteo said, tone light, almost teasing.
"Oh, well, she is. Caught her in the hallway today, roaming around the house." Leo leaned back in his chair, his voice edged with annoyance.
Matteo's grin widened, though he quickly masked it with something sharper. "Come to think of it..." He trailed off, stepping closer to where Leo sat.
Leo narrowed his eyes. "What?" His curiosity was piqued, though his face gave nothing away.
"Well," Matteo began slowly, "I was thinking about your uncle's offer. About you getting married."
Leo's expression darkened into a frown. "And what?"
Matteo tilted his head, his voice lowering with deliberate weight. "Since she doesn't want her family forcing her into a marriage she doesn't want... why not help each other out?"
Leo's jaw tightened. "I'm still lost, Matteo," he said flatly, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed that he understood exactly where this was going.
Matteo's smile sharpened, his words dropping like a stone in still water. "You both can get married."
- Writer
