Page 48 of The Immortal's One

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Bella resumes walking up the stairs. I follow, my attention no longer on the beautiful home around me.

Didn’t Evetta tell me to stay away from someone named Desmond?

I’d bet my future college tuition that Des is short for Desmond.

Were the three women in the bathroom acting on his behalf? They sure made it seem that way. But then… why would he save me?

Is Des a danger to me? My gut still says no.

The man is abrasive, but I can’t forget how he looked when he found me in the bathroom. Or how furious he became after seeing my neck.

My fingers travel up to my throat and trace the marks I haven’t had the chance to see.

No.

Des might be a jerk, but he saved me. He has my tentative trust. As much trust as I can have for a stranger who helped me get out of a dangerous situation while also making women disappear in flashes of blinding white light.

And dragging me here against my will.

We reach the second floor. Bella walks down a hallway, stopping in front of a set of oak doors with gleaming bronze handles.

“This is my room.” She swings one door open, thenpauses. “Well, my personal sitting room. My bedroom is attached to Thane’s suite.”

That’s an odd sleeping arrangement for a husband and wife.

Keeping the thought to myself, I step inside.

The room is gorgeous, like a scene plucked straight from a dream. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far wall, framed by pale blue curtains that match the delicate flowers on the wallpaper adorning the remaining walls. The rest of the space is a study in soft, soothing neutrals—plush armchairs and a fainting couch in creamy hues, accented by silky purple pillows that pop like vibrant jewels.

But it’s the ceiling that truly takes my breath away. Another impossibly beautiful fresco sprawls above us. A man and a woman stand beneath an altar draped in bright, vivid flowers, surrounded by a crowd of people whose faces are masked by shadows.

Only the couple’s features stand out. Their eyes filled with such palpable, intense adoration that viewing their love feels almost like an intrusion. The artist captured more than devotion in those eyes—something timeless. The fresco is a masterpiece that rivals the work of Italian Renaissance artists I’ve seen in countless cathedrals and museums across Europe.

“Do you like it?” Bella steps beside me, tilting her head back to admire the painting. “It’s my favorite fresco in the house.”

I drop my chin and stare at the young woman next to me. This magnificent place can’t be in the United States. If it were, my historian father would’ve taken me to visit it. Or he would have at least talked about it.

My hands begin to tremble. I curl them into fists. For thethird time since I regained consciousness, I ask, “Where am I?”

The lightness in Bella’s expression fades, replaced with guarded hesitation. “I told you… I don’t think I should…”

“Please.” I lick my dry lips. “This place… thisroomtells me I’m not anywhere close to home. And I’m afraid. Please… just tell me where I am.”

“Don’t answer that, Bella.”

My heart stutters as I turn toward the door. There, framed in the doorway like some ominous shadow, stands the man I now know is named Des. He’s flanked by two men I recognize.

Thane and Lome stand with their arms crossed, meeting my accusing stare. Thane’s expression is unreadable, while Lome’s reveals a hint of regret.

“Why not?” Bella’s challenges quietly. “Doesn’t she have a right to know?”

Tension thickens the air.

“She doesn’t have the right to know anything.” Des’s voice cuts through the room, brusque and final. The words land like a blow. “I’m taking her home as soon as we agree never to speak of this again.”

His words should come as a relief. And they do.

I want to go home, but at the same time, the need for answers gnaws at me. I’ve been thrown into a situation I don’t understand, surrounded by strangers who know far more about me than I do about them.