Page 34 of Darkest Deception

I type Remo Cainn in the search bar, and pictures come up from his campaigns, the wine empire he has, and many are of his wedding with Aurora. I keep scrolling and scrolling, ready to give up until I find one of him standing outside my house.

Outside the Torre mansion with me in front of him.

I notice something in the corner of the picture. Right to the left of our house.

It’s a hooded figure.

The same figure that reminds me of my stalker.

And my heart drops to my feet.

11

With my hood up, I drop my burnt cigarette to the ground. My eyes do a slow sweep of the grounds. The guards never see me hidden in this place. Despite their schedules changing every night, it’s easy to pick up on the pattern.

Easily rushing across the grass, I take hold of the pipe that leads up the side of the house and climb onto Ambrose’s balcony. I am quick to drop to my feet onto the marble of the balcony. It’s way too easy.

Many times, I’ve leaned against the railing of this very balcony and watched her sleep. I watched her thrash in her bed, small tears falling down her face as if she were reliving a nightmare.

My curiosity never dimmed.

It never strayed.

There has always been a why with her, and I am going crazy with my unanswered questions.

Why the façade?

Why commit the sins when you couldn’t bear the consequences?

Why be who you are when you know it would turn you ugly in the eyes of others?

One must repent in order to rebuild their life.

Ambrose didn’t do that.

I step over the threshold and into her bedroom.

Her bed, with its plain white wooden bed frame, is pushed against the right wall. A rectangular mirror faces her bed, and there’s an ensuite bathroom as soon as you enter her room on the left. A walk-in closet is in front of me, and there are a few tall plants here and there. The plants are the only hint of colour in her room.

The shower shuts off.

The minute the door creaks open and I hear the soft padding of feet, my eyes dart to it. I made sure to time the lights switching off at this very moment. They all go out except the ones visible to the guards, as to not raise suspicions.

The sight in front of me shatters my resolve. Her wet hair sticks to her body, and her black leggings and a tight shirt mould to her body. The sight of her top clinging to her breasts, her nipples peeking through the top makes me grind my teeth. Ambrose is wearing fucking plain leggings and a shirt that reveals nothing but everything at once. The view has my blood rushing south, and my hands ball at my side.

She looks up, brushes her hair with her fingers, and freezes when she spots me.

I should be advancing towards her to make her relive it all the torment she’s inflicted upon others, but I am frozen too.

My eyes don’t fix on a single thing. I take in all of her. Her blond wet hair trickling all around her face, the soft skin of her face, the paleness resembling an unreachable cloud. Her nails manicured and painted nude, her bare feet.

I hate her. But I also desire her. She just doesn’t realise it yet.

“W-What…” Her voice is soft, and her lips part on a gasp. Her face is bare, as it always is when the earth is cloaked in darkness.

But today, for the first time, I have the privilege of looking at her closer, to see her face bare of any makeup at all. To discover the reddish hue to her cheeks and the paleness of her skin as if she were a doll. A weak, breakable doll that could shatter under the slightest pressure.

Ambrose with no makeup has me weak in my knees.

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