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BELLA
It’s been three weeks since I last saw Valerian. Three weeks and two days since his text message. I reach for the phone off my night table hoping I might have missed something while I rested. I pass a thumb over the sleeping screen only to find the notifications empty.
I pull my feet up and wrap my legs around my knees. I’ve been in this room for so long I’ve forgotten the feel of the wind on my face and the moonlight in my hair. I’ve been a night owl all my life and the allure of the pregnant moon outside my room is far too appealing tonight to resist. I stand from the bed and shake off the remnants of sadness that sent me into an hours-long sleep.
I place the phone on the table by the tray of food Mabel left me some hours ago. It took a few days to get my appetite back, but today I managed to finish the wonderful cinnamon bun she left me for lunch. It was delicious, but I’m tired of eating alone and having no one to talk to.
I pull his name up on my phone. Should I message him? He wants nothing to do with me. That part is obvious. He’s left me here for Mabel to tend to and that is that.
I make quick work of an evening shower and pull on a gown and a robe overtop of that when I finish. Both are lovely and are the color of the roses outside my window. Silk is my favorite to wear. I’m not sure if it was Mabel who picked out my wardrobe of clothing or some stylist he left in charge. Either way, it’s nice to have something to wear while I scout out where I’m staying. I should have started the first night I arrived but fear kept me locked in my room.
And anger.
Sadness.
Depression.
Hope too, to be honest. I hoped he would change his mind and send me on my way back to my father. How foolish of me. Valerian doesn’t seem like a man who easily changes his mind about anything and so far I’ve been right.
I push the memory of his scent from my mind and the longing to feel the heat of his touch on my skin again into a tiny box of memories I need to bury.
He’s gone and I’m left behind in his house to find something to do with my life until he comes home.
If he returns, I correct myself.
To me it’s not a home, but simply a place where I rest my head. For how long is up to a man I believe I may never see again.
With no one here but me and Mabel in the evenings, I open my door and step out. Darkness greets me. Tonight, like every night since I’ve been here, I rub at the pain over my heart.
Hesitantly, I step up to Valerian’s door but tonight, like every other night, there’s no sign of life. No light shooting out from beneath his door. There are no sounds of shoes being dropped or curses being mumbled. Only silence.
I don’t think I can keep doing this. Not another three seconds, three minutes and I sure as hell will not sit in my room for another three weeks alone and uncertain of what happens next.
He left me horny and confused. I pace down the hall out of frustration and curiosity about what I should do next. My dormant inner warrior screams for me to find him, drive a knife into his heart and roar, “the beast is dead!”
I stop walking when I get to the head of the long staircase.
As if.
I don’t have a killer bone in my body, but some days I wish I took after my father more. My heart wouldn’t hurt as much.
I reach for the banister and ease down the stairs into the quiet lower level. Lights throw the large space into a tapestry of grays and whites. I can only make out dimmed shapes of what I think is furniture here and there. A large couch, a lamp with two arms and another fixture resembling a head. I think.
I step off the landing and move through one empty hallway after another. Mabel should wrap up for the evening soon. I stop to listen, but no sounds come from any part of the house. Maybe she finished early and retired to her quarters. It’s eerily quiet, now that I think about it.
I continue my exploration. There’s a large ballroom, a sitting room. A library. A room decorated with rose plates and another with nothing in it but a Grand piano.
Large windows beyond the piano let a massive amount of moonlight in. It gleans off the polish and gives an ethereal glow to the beautiful black wood. I step into the room and find myself unable to resist the keys. The strike against the chords fills the room but quickly fades.
“Miss Kincaid.”
I turn at the sound of the housekeeper's voice, instantly flushed.
“Mabel. You startled me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I saw the piano and couldn’t resist.”
“You’re fine. De la Rosa left instructions that you have access to the entire property. Except?—”
I nod. “—for the atrium at the edge of the property. Yes, I remember.”
