Chapter 18 18

Chapter 18 18
Bridget

Today I was told to clean some closed bedrooms in the mansion, and the task feels heavier than usual even though it is something I have done many times before. The mansion is quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet that makes every footstep echo softly against marble floors and high ceilings. I move from room to room with my cleaning cart, focused and silent, letting routine guide me. I put clean sheets on the bed, smoothing them carefully until there are no wrinkles left. I wipe the floor with scented detergents, the smell of lavender and citrus mixing in the air. I wipe the mirrors until my own reflection stares back at me clearly, looking tired but composed.

I do that with three bedrooms, each one empty and untouched, frozen in time like no one has slept in them for years. But when I reach the forth and last, something is different. I twist the knob but it doesn’t open. The handle feels cold and unmoving in my hand, stubborn and final, as if the door itself refuses me entry.

“Maria.” I call a lady who is a servant in this mansion for years.

She arrived instantly, “Yes Bridget?”

“This door is locked. Where is the key?” I ask.

Her eyes flies wide, and the sudden fear in her expression makes my chest tighten. “No no.” she approaches close to me and says, “Only Mr De Costa has the key of this room. It’s been closed for years. Mr De Costa often opens it, but nobody knows what is inside this room.”

Her voice lowers near the end, as if the walls themselves might be listening. She says and I look at the closed door. The wood is darker than the others, older, untouched by dusting or sunlight. What can be inside here. The question lingers in my head, unsettling and heavy. I leave from there and start doing my other works, but the image of that locked door stays with me long after I turn away.

Once I am done with all cleaning, my body aches slightly from hours of work. I head for a shower , craving warmth and silence. The water rushes over me as I rinse my long hair and massage my scalp, letting my eyes close as steam fills the bathroom. At the back of my head I still play the thoughts of the blood bound ceremony. The memory keeps looping no matter how hard I try to wash it away. I am still confused if I should confront Adriano about this or I should remain quiet. Because what if I confront him and then he forces me to marry him. The thought makes my stomach twist. It will be better if I search for the vault’s password and steal the necklace then leave. The idea feels dangerous but also like the only way out.

I rinse my body and take fresh towel and dry the excess water from my hair. I move slowly, grounding myself in simple actions. Then I get dressed in comfy shorts and a t shirt, choosing comfort over anything else. It’s almost time for my online Italian class. so I grab a bowl of fruit salad, which has mango, pineapple, blue berries and strawberries. The colors are bright and cheerful, a small contrast to my restless thoughts. I eat some from the bowl and keep it next to me on the dining table. I take my notebook and a pen, the class starts.

I am still learning basic things and I am taking note of everything so that I don’t forget it. I listen carefully, repeating words quietly under my breath, writing each phrase with focus. The online class goes smoothly, the teacher told me that I already have the accent, I just need to learn the words. Hearing that gives me a small sense of confidence, something steady to hold on to.

Then I head to the kitchen, shifting back into work mode. I am asked to make Italian pasta for Mr De Costa’s dinner. I wash my hands and start preparing ingredients while the other chef prepares desert. The kitchen hums softly with activity. I make the pasta same as the chef taught me, measuring, stirring, tasting carefully, wanting it to be perfect.

Dinner time passes by and Adriano is not home yet. The food stays warm, untouched. The house feels empty again. I am curled up on the couch with headphones on and I am listening to an Italian podcast. I am not understanding all of it completely but I am listening, letting the sound of the language fill the silence. My body relaxes without me realizing it.

The main door opens 2 hours later and I wake up. Shit I’ve fallen asleep on the couch. I stand up instantly, the headphone around my neck, my heart suddenly racing. He locks the door and turns around, his eyes land on me. He gives me a look from head to toe with lustful eyes. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel exposed and small. He approaches close and sits on the couch. His hands are covered with blood.

“Bring me a towel soaked in warm water.” He orders and I nod and head to the kitchen.

I grab a bowl and pour warm water then I quickly take a towel from the bathroom. I rush to him. He is gazing at me, unreadable and dangerous. I am wearing shorts and a shirt, suddenly too aware of how little I have on.

“On your knees.” He says.

I kneel in front of him and soak the towel on the warm water and take his hand. I clean all the blood from his hand. The warmth of his skin contrasts with the sticky dryness of blood. Then I take his other hand and do the same with it, clean his knuckles, his tattoos, then I wipe the blood off his lion face ring. Each movement feels intimate and terrifying at the same time.

He puts his leg forward. “Wipe the blood off my shoes.” His voice is coarse and deep which sends something down my stomach. The white towel is now stained with filthy blood which I don’t know whom it belongs to.

My hands tremble slightly as I polish his shoes neat. I try not to think about what he has done tonight.

“It’s clean.” I say while putting the towel in the bowl which now has red water.

“Take off my shoes.” He says.

I do as he says and let his socks on. My fingers move carefully, obediently.

“You told me to make pasta for dinner…” I say in low voice.

His cold face suddenly softens a little as he looks at me, “Put a plate for me.” he sighs. I nod and get on my feet again and head to the kitchen. Relief mixes with nervousness as I heat the pasta and take out a plate for him. I take it to the dining table.

“Food is ready!” I shout from the dining table and Adriano walks in. he looks tired but fresh at the same time. He runs his hand over his beards and he gives me a glance then he sits down.

“A glass of whiskey with ice please.” He orders. I nod and rush to the mini bar. I make his drink and bring it to him.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

I turn to leave from the dining room.

“Sit here.” his voice stops me, he pulls the chair next to him with one hand.

I sit down quietly. He continues eating, the sound of cutlery filling the room. “The food is delicious.” he throws a glance at me.

I beam, “thank you.”

“Well you have to pack your things, tomorrow you’re going with me to seal a deal. It’s quite far so we will be staying over there.”

My lips part, “Okay, what should I bring along?”

“2 formal dresses, warm clothes.”

I nod, absorbing every word.

“Where is the place?”

“It’s a mountain restaurant. We will be staying in a mountain villa. The weather is often cold over there.” He explains.

I will have to stay close with him again?