A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 39 | intensive new beginnings

Straightening the hem of my belly skirt which swayed in the cold, I made my way to the staircase where Dwain held out his muscular arm for me.

Orlando and a good number of house staff, transported our luggage into the mansion while Dwain shoved his free hand into the pockets of his denim white shorts, balanced his weight on his white Nike sneakers, and whispered into my ear.

"What happened in New York City, remains in New York City, " a trembling breath flushed my neck, and his hands reached out to mine out of the blue and fastened my arm with his. "Understood?"

The proximity between us started a dangerous fire that dried the thick lump in my throat.

With him towering over me and his head almost deepening into the hollows of my neck, words dissolved at my lips, quickening the pounding at my chest.

Holding my gaze to the floor, I did a reluctant head nod to his request.

Why shouldn't it even remain by the way?

It had plenty of conflicting memories that ought to rest in perfect peace.

"Good, now bring back that smile. It's not yet my funeral. "

He cupped my cheeks in his palms and lifted my face to the darkness of his gaze, amusement dripping from his words.

"Tasha must not be aware of the discussion we had," his playfulness ceased, and his words fell to my skin like ice cubes, freezing me along with the night cold.

"Never mind, what happened in Castle River, remains in Castle River."

Our little talk came to pass and his hand tightened around my arms once more and we walked through the sliding glass door.

I couldn't wait to set my eyes on the forever breathtaking beauty of the mansion, but then, the lights of the mansion were off, and there was no noise.

Negativity swirled in my chest, settling low on the last floor of my belly.

"Would they be asleep by now?"

My grip fastened on Dwain's arm as we strolled in the blackout.

His patience started wearing out as he called on Camilla, ignoring my question each time in a straight row of asking multiple times.

Okay, this wasn't a horror movie, right?

There wouldn't be some psychopath in the dark, waiting on us with a pocket knife, aiming for the veins of our hands, right?

Even steady moves freaked me out.

"Is this some sort of Hiding and Seek?"

Nothing good could make its entry into my mind, not even hope and all the questions I asked Dwain, exposed my frailty to any potential attack from any creature around.

"The one at the cinema didn't turn out well remember?"

In between quivering lips, I refused to keep moving forward, prevention was way better than cure.

Whispering noises stole the silence, and as much as I didn't want to believe that there was a rat invasion in the mansion, nothing could bring me back to sane reasoning as the whispering grew bigger over time.

I couldn't take this anymore, and rushing out fast into the courtyard, screaming for help at the top of my voice came to mind.

"Dwain, I'm out."

Fear stroke my heart to its peak.

"No, wait."

He struggled to hold me back.