Chapter 49 Sunshine and Ice
Ravial watched, utterly transfixed, as Leitana’s slender fingers danced across the keys. His gaze traced every detail, the faint blue veins shifting beneath her skin, the graceful arch of her hands, the way her shoulders swayed gently with each note. Her eyes were closed, lashes fanned against her cheeks, lost completely in the music. This time it was a different melody, slower, deeper, aching with something unspoken but all he saw was her. Only her.
He felt caught, ensnared in a delicate web spun around his mind and body, and for once, the monster had no desire to break free.
Then the final note faded into silence.
Leitana’s chest rose and fell rapidly, as if she’d been running through some invisible dream. She stared down at the keys, hands trembling in her lap, a faint flush warming her cheeks. For those fleeting minutes, she and the piano had floated somewhere high above the world, nothing else had existed.
She turned slowly on the bench, biting her lip.
Ravial hadn’t moved an inch.
He stood just behind her, blindfold in place, head tilted as though every sense was locked on her alone.
The quiet stretched, thick and charged.
Leitana swallowed. “Are yu… mad?” she whispered, voice barely audible. “Mi no ask fi play yu piano… mi sorry if…”
She started to rise, but his hand settled on her shoulder, warm, firm, yet impossibly gentle, keeping her seated.
He said nothing at first.
Then he reached past her, fingers brushing hers as he pressed a single key. A low, resonant note bloomed in the air.
He lifted her hand, guiding it back to the ivory.
“Again,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges, like gravel. “Play it again.”
Leitana blinked up at him, heart fluttering. “Yu… yu like it?”
The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile, but something softer, something rare and reserved only for her.
“I liked watching you disappear into it,” he admitted quietly. “Play.”
She hesitated only a second before turning back to the keys.
This time the melody spilled out slower, more tender, wrapping around them like warm light. The notes rose and fell, fragile yet fearless.
Ravial remained standing, close enough that she felt the heat radiating from his body. One hand rested lightly on the piano lid; the other idly brushed the damp ends of her hair.
He didn’t touch her further.
He simply listened.
When the last note dissolved into stillness, he leaned down, lips grazing her ear.
“From today,” he said, voice low and certain, “this piano is yours. Play whenever you want. As long as you want.”
Leitana’s eyes flew wide. “Mi own piano?” she breathed, wonder lighting her face.
He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the crown of her head.
“Anything that makes you look like that,” he whispered against her hair, “is yours.”
Then his hand slid to the nape of her neck, thumb stroking once in a possessive caress.
“Now come to bed, little lamb. I’m done working.”
Leitana rose without a word, barefoot and glowing, the echo of music still humming in her veins. She followed him from the study, his warm hand guiding her, the promise of his touch already igniting the night ahead.
The Next Morning
Avery stood ankle-deep in the cool creek, eyes closed, face tilted toward the pale morning light. Silent tears traced slow paths down her cheeks, but she let them fall. The woods beyond the villa were hushed, far enough that the house felt like a distant, suffocating dream. She needed this space to breathe without the weight of Leitana’s radiant joy or Ravial’s dark, worshipful orbit pressing down on her.
“Oh, we meet again.”
The lazy male voice startled her.
She spun, water splashing around her calves.
Matteo stood a few paces away, straw hat dangling from his fingers, blond hair catching the early sun. A smirk played on his lips.
“Didn’t reckon we’d cross paths so quick,” he drawled, stepping closer. “And here I was thinkin’ I’m a damn fool, didn’t realize yesterday you were the boss’s wife.”
Avery’s brow arched coolly. “You’re mistaking me for my sister.”
Matteo froze mid-step.
Then his ears burned bright red.
“Oh. Shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “You’re the other twin.”
Avery waited, arms folding across her chest.
He cleared his throat. “Shoulda known. There’s… a difference, even if y’all look dead alike.”
“What difference?” she asked, voice edged with ice.
Matteo’s gaze flicked everywhere but her face. “Uh… her accent, for one. That sweet island lilt, mixes English with… whatever magic it is. Real charming. Different from yours.”
Avery didn’t respond. She simply waited.
He swallowed hard. “And she’s…” He gestured vaguely, searching for safe words. “Softer. Curvier. Got this warmth that just… radiates.”
Avery’s lips curved, sharp and cold. “Prettier?”
“No!” he blurted, then winced. “I mean, yes, y’all both beautiful, but she’s… fuller. Like sunshine poured into skin.” His eyes accidentally dropped to Avery’s damp singlet clinging from the mist, the loose pants riding low on her hips, then snapped back up, blush deepening. “You got a fine shape too, ma’am, don’t get me wrong but she's different…..”
Avery repeated dryly, “So we’re both pretty.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly, almost desperately.
She turned back to the creek with a soft, dismissive “Hmm.”
Matteo took a breath. “Anyway, I ain’t properly introduced myself. Name’s Matteo . ”
“Save it,” Avery cut in, sharp as winter wind. “I don’t care to learn the name of yet another man pathetically in love with my sister.”
His eyes widened. “Who else is in love with ….?” He caught himself, shaking his head. “No, wait, I ain’t in love with her. We only talked once. She’s just… real nice.”
“Of course she is,” Avery said, voice dripping frost. “Everyone loves the sweet one. Now take your name, your little crush, and your disappointment somewhere else.”
Matteo stared at the rigid line of her back, mouth half-open in disbelief.
He couldn’t fathom how he’d ever mistaken that gentle, glowing island girl for this beautiful, untouchable wall of ice.
“Are you always like this?” he finally asked, Southern drawl thickening with a mix of frustration and reluctant fascination.
“Like what?” she shot back without turning. “Cold? Mean? Apathetic? Take your pick.”
He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Damn. You really don’t pull punches, do ya?”
She faced him fully then, chin high, eyes glittering like sharpened steel. “Why would I? You wandered over here hoping for her. Got your little fantasy yesterday. Now you’re stuck with the short straw. Spare me the wounded-puppy act.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened, but the flush on his cheeks lingered, betraying him completely.
“I wasn’t disappointed,” Matteo said, his voice dropping quieter, almost thoughtful. “Just… caught off guard. Y’all look the same on the outside, but you feel like a storm cloud rollin’ in, and she feels like a warm summer day.”
Avery’s eyes narrowed, sharp as cut glass. “I do not have the strength or the interest to trade pretty words with a farmhand,” she said, her voice slicing clean through the crisp morning air. “So leave.”
Matteo’s jaw flexed, the easy Southern drawl fading from his tone for the first time.
“Farmhand,” he echoed, low and steady. “That’s all you see when you look at me?”
Avery turned fully now, arms folded tight across her chest, gaze still cold..
“That’s exactly what you are.”
He took one deliberate step closer, close enough that she caught the faint scent of hay and leather on him, close enough to see flecks of green sparking in his hazel eyes.
“Maybe,” he said softly, holding her stare without flinching. “But I ain’t blind. And I sure as hell ain’t stupid.”
His gaze traced her face not leering, not hungry, just reading her like an open book she wished she could slam shut.
“You’re hurtin’. Deep. And you’re swingin’ at anybody who gets too close.”
Avery’s chin lifted higher, defiance crackling around her like static. “Don’t pretend you know me.”
“I don’t,” he admitted, voice steady. “But I know pain when it’s standin’ right in front of me. And yours is loud, ma’am.”
She stared at him, something raw and dangerous flickering behind her eyes.
He didn’t back down. Didn’t smirk. Just met her glare head-on.
Finally, Matteo took his straw hat in both hands and gave a small, respectful nod, nothing submissive, just acknowledging the line she’d drawn.
“I’ll leave you be.”
He turned and started back toward the path, boots quiet on the damp grass.
Then he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time.
“But if you ever wanna talk to somebody who ain’t tangled up in that house…” His voice softened, almost gentle. “I’m usually in the stables dawn and nightfall. Since I’m just a farmhand.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t expect one.
He simply walked away, figure shrinking against the misty trees until the creek’s soft rush was the only sound left.
Avery stood frozen, fists clenched at her sides, the cold water swirling around her ankles.
The creek kept flowing, indifferent and eternal.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember, no sharp comeback rose to her lips.