Page 13 of Hostile Secret
Once I’m in the front passenger seat, he slams my door shut and rounds the hood, getting into the driver's seat without saying a word.
That air of untouchable arrogance he exudes fills the inside of the vehicle like smog. Rather than speak, I put on my headphones and watch the world outside of the window blur as we speed away from the airport.
* * *
It didn’t seem to bother Giovanni how I’d intentionally ignored him for the entire journey. He didn’t try to engage me either. I guess we both appreciated the mental space.
When the midnight ocean appears on the horizon, he slams his foot on the gas so my stomach flips at the sudden surge of momentum.
The quiet battery powered Tesla races along a coastal road, the gradient gradually zigzagging up a gentle slope. After a mile or so, the car slows, pulling up to a set of wrought-iron gates held in place by towering stone columns.
Through the aged metal bars, I catch a glimpse of a huge fortress perched on the edge of a cliff and nestled behind a screen of mahogany trees. From what I can see, the imposing property is built of gray stone, its peaked roof tops slated in black shingles. Turrets and spires stretch into the clear navy sky like steps to the starlit heavens.
“Are you messing with me… you don’t really live in there… do you?”
I drag the headphones off my ears and squirm a little, gazing at the creepy house that only a monster would live in.
Giovanni considers me for a moment, his expression blank. “I do.”
“Why?” I whisper more to myself; certain he wouldn’t answer.
“It serves a purpose.”
Elaborate gates part automatically and close after we move under a canopy of trembling leaves, driving into a hidden world where nightmares are born.
My stomach cramps, an uneasiness heating my veins. There aren’t any lights glowing from the residence, only a ghostly veneer of silver moonlight cutting sharp shadows, adding to the sinister bleakness.
I scowl at his illuminated side profile, cast in a haze from the small screen on the dash. “Does anyone else live here?”
Once Giovanni had stopped the car in front of a majestic mermaid water fountain, he turns to me and cocks his head. “You do.”
“That’s not an answer, Gio.” I unclip my seat belt. “Are you telling me you live in this gothic mansion all by yourself?”
He continues to stare at me, his shrewd eyes alive with all sorts of hidden thoughts. “I have staff who work a strict schedule. You’ll likely never see them, or me.”
A trickle of anxiety runs the length of my spine. “I—I… don’t want to be by myself… in there.”
“It’s called Blackwater Manor and the walk back to the airport would take days,” he says matter-of-factly. “Would you rather I carry you indoors, or will you be a good girl and walk in yourself?”
I glare at him for a beat, shove open the door in a huff, and step out of the car, my sandals crunching over tiny stones. Daenis follows behind me until she catches the scent of something far more interesting and trots over to the tamed shrubbery.
I do my best to act unfazed, keeping my shoulders squared and my footsteps assertive even though my heart thuds in my chest like a drum.
Fresh salty sea air tingles over me as a melody of thunderous waves crash to the shore below. The rhythmical sound reminds me of the lazy weekends I’d spent on the beach in Miami with my friends.
My mood quickly turns somber. Everything has changed. Without Reno, I don’t really know who I am anymore, and time spent alone in this hair-raising prison will only add to my loneliness.
Giovanni takes my bag out of the trunk and marches off ahead of me, expecting me to obediently follow him. I do, because I’ve no idea where the hell we are and seeing the isolated mansion that I’m meant to call home for the foreseeable future spooked me.
When he reaches the massive front door, I half expect a decrepit old guy to open it from the inside and hand me a goblet filled with blood.
Giovanni doesn’t produce a clunky old key either or lift the dull brass knocker shaped like a petrified human face.
No, he presses his palm to a blank wall mounted screen and waits for it to glow beneath his fingertips. As if by magic, the door unlocks and glides inward of its own accord.
“What is this place?” I take a deep breath and walk over the threshold, stepping onto ebony and sanguine tiles in a dimly lit, empty foyer.
“It’s home,” he mutters.
