missed.
If there was ever a time she needed a cigarette, it was now.
Nadia couldn’t sleep. Her head was pounding like a drum, and the events of the day wouldn’t let her mind shut down. She felt hyper, anxious, and it had everything to do with the man down the hall.
After futilely searching her dresser again, Nadia placed both palms on her dresser and stared into the mirror.
She didn’t like what she saw.
The wan reflection gazing back at her looked scared and confused, and it made her furious.
She thought about how Dante had looked at her in that mirror, like he could see into her soul—like he
knew
her. But that was impossible. No one knew her.
Because if he did know her, he wouldn’t want her.
She was nothing. She was empty.
With another growl of frustration, she yanked open her door and wandered downstairs in her bare feet.
The mansion was oddly built, a result of Nick’s obsession with security. An outdoor garden was situated in the very center of the house, visible through three sets of sliding glass doors. Nick had built it for her mother, a place where Maria could feel safe when she tended to her flowers, but it had become Nadia’s favorite place, a place where she went to sort out her thoughts.
She felt better the moment she walked outside.
Pale marble statues glowed in the moonlight, reflective of Maria’s passion for Greek mythology. Nadia had never felt alone under their watchful stares.
Poseidon, god of the sea, presided over a cascading fountain, looking so real that sometimes Nadia could almost swear she saw his robes flutter. She gazed into the rippling water for a moment, standing close enough that a faint spray of water covered her face.
Her father had taken to throwing pennies in the bottom of the circular fountain when she was only a girl.
“Make a wish,” he’d say, then he’d send the coin sailing into the clear water. Although she had no coin to offer tonight, she made a wish anyway.
“Let him be the one,” she whispered, then flushed with embarrassment.
What a stupid little girl wish that was, because there was no “one”. Not for someone like her. Nadia wiped the mist from her face with the back of her hand and continued down the walkway.
The white cobblestones were smooth and cool against the bottoms of her feet as she wandered deeper into the garden. She trailed her fingers down the muscular arm of Ares when she passed and tried to enjoy the warm summer breeze that ruffled her hair. The scent of her mother’s roses hung heavy in the air around her.
Nadia sat on a marble bench beneath a bronze replica of Rodin’s
The Kiss
. The embracing lovers should’ve seemed out of place among the other statues, but somehow they didn’t. She stared at them and then up at the full moon, and found herself thinking again not of the man who had tried to kill her, but of the man who had rescued her.
“Nadia?”
Magically, Dante appeared behind her, looking like a Greek god himself in the moonlight. His shirt was gone again, and Nadia stared at the chiseled planes of his body for a beat with total objectivity, the way an artist appreciates a fine sculpture.
That objectivity vanished when he sat beside her. Her heart twisted when Dante withdrew a single orange rose from behind his back and presented it to her.
“Stolen flower,” he said with a smile.
Nadia took it from him and buried her nose in the soft petals. She inhaled deeply, and whispered, “Maria Stern.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s the name of the rose. Nick had them flown in from Florida because they share my mother’s first name.”
She remembered how he’d tickled her mother’s face with one and sang, “Maria Stern, for when my Maria is stern with me.”
The memory made a lump in Nadia’s throat because she wanted what they had, and it could never be hers.
“It reminded me of you. Beautiful, vibrant, surprising.”
Nadia wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He only saw the outside. He didn’t see
If there was ever a time she needed a cigarette, it was now.
Nadia couldn’t sleep. Her head was pounding like a drum, and the events of the day wouldn’t let her mind shut down. She felt hyper, anxious, and it had everything to do with the man down the hall.
After futilely searching her dresser again, Nadia placed both palms on her dresser and stared into the mirror.
She didn’t like what she saw.
The wan reflection gazing back at her looked scared and confused, and it made her furious.
She thought about how Dante had looked at her in that mirror, like he could see into her soul—like he
knew
her. But that was impossible. No one knew her.
Because if he did know her, he wouldn’t want her.
She was nothing. She was empty.
With another growl of frustration, she yanked open her door and wandered downstairs in her bare feet.
The mansion was oddly built, a result of Nick’s obsession with security. An outdoor garden was situated in the very center of the house, visible through three sets of sliding glass doors. Nick had built it for her mother, a place where Maria could feel safe when she tended to her flowers, but it had become Nadia’s favorite place, a place where she went to sort out her thoughts.
She felt better the moment she walked outside.
Pale marble statues glowed in the moonlight, reflective of Maria’s passion for Greek mythology. Nadia had never felt alone under their watchful stares.
Poseidon, god of the sea, presided over a cascading fountain, looking so real that sometimes Nadia could almost swear she saw his robes flutter. She gazed into the rippling water for a moment, standing close enough that a faint spray of water covered her face.
Her father had taken to throwing pennies in the bottom of the circular fountain when she was only a girl.
“Make a wish,” he’d say, then he’d send the coin sailing into the clear water. Although she had no coin to offer tonight, she made a wish anyway.
“Let him be the one,” she whispered, then flushed with embarrassment.
What a stupid little girl wish that was, because there was no “one”. Not for someone like her. Nadia wiped the mist from her face with the back of her hand and continued down the walkway.
The white cobblestones were smooth and cool against the bottoms of her feet as she wandered deeper into the garden. She trailed her fingers down the muscular arm of Ares when she passed and tried to enjoy the warm summer breeze that ruffled her hair. The scent of her mother’s roses hung heavy in the air around her.
Nadia sat on a marble bench beneath a bronze replica of Rodin’s
The Kiss
. The embracing lovers should’ve seemed out of place among the other statues, but somehow they didn’t. She stared at them and then up at the full moon, and found herself thinking again not of the man who had tried to kill her, but of the man who had rescued her.
“Nadia?”
Magically, Dante appeared behind her, looking like a Greek god himself in the moonlight. His shirt was gone again, and Nadia stared at the chiseled planes of his body for a beat with total objectivity, the way an artist appreciates a fine sculpture.
That objectivity vanished when he sat beside her. Her heart twisted when Dante withdrew a single orange rose from behind his back and presented it to her.
“Stolen flower,” he said with a smile.
Nadia took it from him and buried her nose in the soft petals. She inhaled deeply, and whispered, “Maria Stern.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s the name of the rose. Nick had them flown in from Florida because they share my mother’s first name.”
She remembered how he’d tickled her mother’s face with one and sang, “Maria Stern, for when my Maria is stern with me.”
The memory made a lump in Nadia’s throat because she wanted what they had, and it could never be hers.
“It reminded me of you. Beautiful, vibrant, surprising.”
Nadia wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He only saw the outside. He didn’t see
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