Romance

The mansion was so quiet my footsteps echoed off the marble like gunshots. But the faint smell of coffee drifting from downstairs? That was the only thing keeping me from turning around and crawling back into bed.
"I hope this walk ends with caffeine," I said, following him. "If not, I might start screaming. Fair warning, I'm very loud when I scream."
Enzo threw me a look over his shoulder, half-amused. "Relax. Kitchen's this way. I told them to make something decent for you."
"'Decent' sounds suspiciously like prison food. Like gruel. Or mystery meat." I rebutted.
He smirked. "Waffles and pancakes with caramel drizzle and coffee sound like prison food to you?"
I stopped walking. "Wait… you're serious? That's not a joke? You're not about to lead me to a bowl of sad oatmeal?"
"Dead serious."
He pushed open the kitchen door, and the sweet, buttery smell hit me like a warm hug from my child

I spent the rest of the day wandering the halls of the mansion like a ghost until I thought I might actually lose my mind.
Enzo checked in periodically but they felt like scheduled programming. 
By the time it was late into the noon, the silence was suffocating. I'd tried everything.
Reading books from Giovanni's library (all in Italian, naturally), rearranging furniture in my room (pointless), even counting the crystals on the chandelier (two hundred and forty-seven, in case anyone cared).
Nothing worked. The quiet pressed against my skull like a vice.
I need to hear a familiar voice. Just one. Just for a second.
The thought consumed me until I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I'd seen a landline in one of the sitting rooms during my supervised wanderings with Enzo. An actual telephone with an actual cord, like something from a museum. At the time, I'd filed it away as useless information.
N

I tried to ignore the feeling but I eventually gave in, and took a sharp turn, heading towards the secrets I hoped I would find. 

I moved quietly down the corridor, my bare feet silent against the marble. When I reached the end of the hallway, I came face to face with his office door.

Now or never. I thought to myself. 

Through the keyhole, I could see the laptop light was still on and curiosity won.

I pushed the door open and headed straight for his desk.  

There were papers scattered like maps, handwritten letters with logos I didn't recognize, and one black notebook.

Curiosity tugged at me again and I picked it up and opened it.

At first, I didn't understand what I was looking at, it contained lists of names, numbers, coded phrases. Then I saw mine.

ARYA.  

Arrival: Unplanned.

Status: Unstable.

Observation: Unpredictable, but USEFUL.

My blood ran cold. Useful for what?

Before I could flip another page, a shadow moved across the wall behind me.

"Curiosity," Giovanni's voice drawled softly from the doorway, "is a dangerous habit."

I stiffened, and the air around me thickened. He walked closer until his reflection joined mine in the glass cabinet beside us.

"You shouldn't be in here," he said. "But you couldn't help yourself, could you?"

I swallowed hard, the notebook still in my hand. "What is this?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.

"Records," he said simply. "Of things you don't need to understand."

He reached out, plucked the notebook from my fingers, and set it back on the desk without looking at it.

Then his eyes met mine and there was something burning underneath.

"Next time you wander," he murmured, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating from him, "make sure you're ready for what you might find."

My pulse raced. "Are you threatening me?"

"No." He was so close I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "I'm warning you."

I could see the faint scar along his jaw, the darkness in his gaze that looked like it had clawed its way out of hell itself. 

But I could also see the way his chest rose and fell just slightly faster than normal, the way his hand flexed at his side like he was fighting not to reach for me.

"Goodnight, Arya," he whispered, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness.

I stood there in the blackness, listening to his footsteps fade, while my heart pounded recklessly. 

I slipped out of the office and walked back to my cage, my heartbeat still thrumming from the encounter. 

It took several missed turns but I was able to find it. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, securing it back with the locks before stepping back. 

I looked around the room, searching for any signs of a camera but I didn’t see any. I nodded and walked towards the bed.

“Gosh!” I exhaled the moment my back hit the plush mattress. 

A yawned escaped out of my mouth before I could help it and although I tried to fight the exhaustion, sleep pulled me under faster and the rest of the world fell dark. 

 Sunlight assaulted my face like it had a personal vendetta.

I groaned, yanking the covers over my head before remembering that I'd forgotten to close the curtains last night. 

Apparently, even captivity came with aggressive mood lighting.

"Fine. You win, sun," I muttered into my pillow, giving up the fight.

I squinted against the brightness until my eyes finally adjusted, blinking like a confused owl. For a solid three seconds, I didn't know where I was. Then reality crashed back in with all the grace of a brick through a window.

Right. The devil's mansion aka my new prison.

The memories of the last two days hit in rapid succession and I sighed, rubbing my aching temple. 

"Morning, me," I said to the empty room, sitting up and running a hand through my disaster of hair. "Still alive and not murdered in my sleep. That's a bonus."

I swung my legs out of bed and stretched, joints popping in a way that made me feel approximately seventy years old. The room looked exactly the same as it had last night like someone had consulted a catalog titled Luxury Prison Décor Monthly.

I wandered to the window, yawning so hard my jaw cracked. Outside, the guards were already posted, men in black suits standing so still they might've been mannequins. It was unsettling to watch.!!

My stomach rumbled loud enough to echo.

Great. Kidnapped or not, I was still hungry. The audacity of my own body."

After throwing on a loose shirt and brushing my hair into something that almost resembled human effort, I poked my head into the hallway.

It was empty.

"Hello?" I called softly, then louder. "Anyone alive? Preferably someone with coffee? I'll even take someone without coffee at this point. Just... human contact?"

My voice echoed back at me mockingly. Where's Giovanni?

The question popped into my head before I could stop it, and I immediately hated myself for it.

Not that I cared, obviously. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't lurking around some corner, planning another dramatic entrance involving cryptic threats and his whole "obedience" speech routine. 

The man had Main Character Energy and it was exhausting.

I kept moving, hoping to find literally anyone, and nearly crashed into a solid wall of human.

of human.

"Whoa!" I stumbled back.

Enzo stood there looking like he'd been awake for hours with shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy in a way that probably took effort, that usual calm smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, thank God. A friendly face." I pressed a hand to my chest in mock relief. "I was starting to think Giovanni murdered everyone in their sleep."

Enzo grinned. "Relax, sunshine. Everyone survived the night, including your attitude." He started walking, gesturing for me to follow. "He might scare people, but he's not that dramatic before breakfast."

"Just regular dramatic then. Got it." I quipped back.

Enzo led the way down t
he grand hallway, hands in his pockets like this was just a casual morning stroll and not a prisoner escort mission. 


The mansion was so quiet my footsteps echoed off the marble like gunshots. But the faint smell of coffee drifting from downstairs? That was the only thing keeping me from turning around and crawling back into bed.
"I hope this walk ends with caffeine," I said, following him. "If not, I might start screaming. Fair warning, I'm very loud when I scream."
Enzo threw me a look over his shoulder, half-amused. "Relax. Kitchen's this way. I told them to make something decent for you."
"'Decent' sounds suspiciously like prison food. Like gruel. Or mystery meat." I rebutted.
He smirked. "Waffles and pancakes with caramel drizzle and coffee sound like prison food to you?"
I stopped walking. "Wait… you're serious? That's not a joke? You're not about to lead me to a bowl of sad oatmeal?"
"Dead serious."
He pushed open the kitchen door, and the sweet, buttery smell hit me like a warm hug from my childhood A plate of golden waffles and fluffy pancakes sat waiting on the counter, steam curling into th

A Bite of Trouble