WHAT LIES BENEATH THE SKIRT

A wave of panic washed over her as she jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest. She had died, yet somehow, she was alive again, and younger. The familiar yet forgotten contours of her youthful body felt strange and new. Beside her, Nicholas stirred, his rugged features etched with worry, his piercing dark eyes locking onto hers. His messy black hair added a touch of sexy wildness to his chiseled good looks. "What's wrong?" he whispered, his deep voice husky with concern. As their gazes met, Zelda's mind recoiled in horror, memories of that fateful night surging back. "The same face I saw before my death," she pondered, her mind racing like a tempest. "Zelda? Are you okay?" Nicholas's voice cut through her turmoil, his hand reaching out to comfort her. But as his fingers brushed against her skin, her body shuddered violently, her reaction freezing him in place. As he took in her downtrodden demeanor, her eyes cast downward, he hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. With a curt nod, he sprang to his feet and muttered "Take a shower" before striding swiftly toward the door. A faint sign escaped her lips, the chilly presence surrounding him lingering, like a cold breeze. She eased out of the immaculate white bed and padded softly to the bathroom. With a deep breath, she filled the tub with cold water, the chill of it enveloping her like a shroud as she stepped in. She submerged herself in the icy water, seeking clarity. Her mind reeled with frantic questions: "Did I travel back in time? Why am I alive? Is this a second chance?" The turmoil of her thoughts swirled around her like the rippling water. ••••• As Zelda stepped out of the bathroom, enveloped in a towel, she started drying her hair with soft, careful strokes. "Superstitions aside, if this is the universe giving me a second chance, I am going to make it count", she said, her voice barely above a whisper. With renewed purpose, she dressed, each careful gesture a testament to her resolve. "Miss Zelda, breakfast is served and Master awaits your presence."A knock on the door broke the silence "I will be right there", she replied, swiftly applying a coat of lip balm before gliding out of the room. ••••• Amidst the warm glow of crystal chandeliers and the soft hum of morning sunlight streaming through the tall windows. she strolled elegantly towards the polished dining table. There, the maids greeted her with gentle smiles and subtle curtsies as they served the meals. She cautiously peeked at the man seated at the table, his dark presence commanding the space. Her footsteps faltered as the ominous aura enveloped her. As she scrutinized his expression, a chill ran down her spine, and fear gripped her heart. Haunting questions swirled in her mind: "Why was his face etched in my memory as I took my last breath? Who killed Dante? And why did Nicholas and Dante become pawns in a deadly game because of me?" As the painful recollections resurfaced, she drew a deep, steadying breath before approaching Nicholas with a carefully crafted, though fragile, smile. He observed her with an air of quiet intensity. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, their depth seeming to cloud over, as she deviated from her usual habit and sat down beside him, her proximity sparking a flicker of intrigue. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his gaze drifting over her cascade of golden blond hair, which fell loosely down her back. She absently tucked a stray strand behind her ear, then slowly lifted her lashes, revealing bright eyes that met his. A gentle smile played on her lips as she replied, "I am fine, just a bit hungry". "Mm eat more", he urged, spooning generous helpings onto her plate until it resembled a sumptuous feast. As he watched her savor each bite, her radiant smiles and evident delight sparked a quiet fascination within him. It was a far cry, he mused silently, from the frantic, desperate girl who had tried to escape the country just yesterday. Following the quiet breakfast, he issued a crisp instruction to his personal assistant, "Michael, bring the car." He then turned to her, his tone polished and detached, "I have business matters to attend to, the maids will ensure your needs are met." As he stood up, he smoothed the sleek lines of his black vintage suit, exuding an air of refined elegance. He strode towards the door, his departure imminent, when her soft voice called out, "Have a nice day." He paused, his footsteps faltering for a fleeting moment, before he nodded curtly and exited. After he left, she checked her calendar, recalling yesterday's failed escape, Memories of her desperate dash to the airport. Nicholas's men swiftly apprehended her, sedating her with a sleeping pill to quell her rising hysteria, before returning her to the mansion, where she was confined. In her past life, Nicholas's behavior was a conflicting mix of luxury and fear. He pampered her, yet his temper made him a formidable figure, inspiring anxiety. Her parents' betrayal lingered, casting a dark shadow. Despite his efforts to appease her, Zelda's desperation fueled her repeated escape attempts. "I have to be happy and live my life to the fullest" she whispered. Given a second chance she vowed to uncover the missteps of her past and make amends through new choices. Since college lectures awaited her today, it was a fleeting relief from her luxurious captivity. A year of observation had equipped her with the knowledge to evade Nicholas's security, allowing her to slip out undetected and savor a moment of liberty. She slipped into the room, shedding her gown for a relaxed college look of deep blue jeans and a black tank top. With her hair neatly tied back, she was ready to take on the day. ••••• At the office, Marco a burly man with a thick beard, stood before the mafia lord, his eyes cast downward. "Boss, we got a problem with the antique shipment." The mafia lord, seated in a plush armchair, steepled his fingers. "The shipper, he... he tried to skim off the top", Marco hesitated. The mafia lord's expression turned icy, "Explain." Marco shifted uncomfortably. "He replaced one of the antiques with a fake, kept the real one for himself." The mafia lord's voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Which antique?" He swallowed hard. "The 18th-century clock, boss." The mafia lord's face darkened as a terrifying aura filled the room "Find him. Get it back." The subordinate nodded hastily: "Consider it done, boss." But before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Michael's sudden knock at the door broke the tension. With a sense of gravity, Michael approached Nicholas and whispered urgently, "Master, Miss Zelda has been reported missing from the mansion again." The tea cup he had picked up just moments before shattered in his hand, the pressure of his grip causing a deep gash that began to bleed. His face set in a grim expression, he growled: "Notify all airport security personnel and Intel teams, I want her apprehended and returned immediately. Any mistakes will be on your head."