Page 17 of The Dark Obsession

He chortles. “You could say that.”

I sigh. “I was worried you were just an asshole to everyone for a moment.”

He raises his eyebrows at me with look of disbelief on his face, then chuckles, and gestures for me to follow.

He approaches the stairs and my heart starts slamming in my chest. His eyes dart to me. Can he hear it?

He stands still, holding the rails of the stairs. “Welcome tomi casa.” He gestures again for me to follow.

I almost forgot he has an almost unnoticeable accent. I follow him up the marbled winding staircase and stumble on the last step. His hand flings out to grab me with such force I might have been better off falling. I steady myself, wrapping both of my hands around the stair rail. I nod wearily in thanks, trying to catch my breath after being winded by his sturdy palm.

He refuses to let me go until we’re two steps from the top of the staircase. His face is tense and, if I’m not mistaken, angry.

My stiff and motionless legs tremble, not because of my almost accident but because of Rafael.

He eyes the staircase and takes a deep breath. “Please don’t get yourself killed on my stairs.” His tone is displeased, but his lips lift into a forced smile.

“I’ll try not to. Have I annoyed you with my accidental trip?”

Rafael pauses. “No, I’m annoyed I hurt you when I tried to stop you from falling.”

“You confuse me.”

“I could say the same about you, but here I am, keeping my mouth shut.” He turns and saunters down the hallway.

I run to keep pace with his brisk gait, marred by a barely visible limp. If I hadn’t been staring at him in awe at how graciously he can almost run down a hallway, I wouldn’t have noticed. We pass too many doors—some old, dusty, and untouched, others beautifully bright and white. The handles shine, and I notice the reflection as we pass. Orbital lights, opposite each other, adorn the white walls, casting spotlight-like circles on each door. Inside the spotlight circle is a letter of some sort—a language I’m certain no-one uses in today’s age.

“This writing, what is it?” I ask between deep breaths, my ribs hurting with all this speed walking.

“Enochian, the language of the angels. My father was obsessed, so I named my rooms in Enochian in his honour.” Rafael chuckles and halts at a bright white door engraved in gold with hundreds of symbols, in shapes of circles and stars.

I reach to touch the etchings. A charge of electricity flows through my arm—excitement.

Rafael knocks my arm out of the way as he shoves open the door, his gaze never leaving my hand. “Don’t touch. Please …” He adds as if trying to be polite.

A cold wind blows through the open door, making my breath hitch. I see shining lights reflect brightly from a crystal chandelier that hangs low over the middle of a large black table. Mesmerising gold engravings adorn the walls. Long gold-lined white curtains cover the windows, letting only a sliver of light through from the outside. I walk to the walls, drawn to the beautiful engravings. Rafael keeps on my heels, inches behind me.

“I don’t—” He stops as I reach again and takes my hand in his cool hand, then puts it to my side. “Do not touch, Rosa. It’s fragile. Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

The stiffness in his voice hits me fast. “Sorry. It’s j-just so beautiful. You won’t regret this, sir. S-sorry.” I step backwards, making space between the tempting walls and myself. I squeal and fall backwards onto a white leather sofa.

“Calm down, Rosalie. Just stay, stay still.” He laughs.

My body tenses as he wanders around his office, looking for papers. Staying still is harder now than ever before. I tap my fingers together, my eyes following Rafael rummaging through what seems like hundreds of folders and drawers. A soft knock sounds at the door, and I watch Rafael rush to open it.

I hear Lucy the maid. “Sir, I’m just checking that—”

“Lucy … everything is fine. You are checking onme… not checking that everything is okay.” Rafael says slowly, clearly losing his patience.

“Sorry, s-sir.” She peeks around the door.

“That reminds me, Rosa. I’ve asked, just call me Rafael.” He turns to put his hand on the door to close it.

“Sir, can I call you Rafael?” Lucy asks timidly, though she glares at me from behind the door.

“What? No. Where’s the coffee?” He closes the door harder than necessary. He turns his back and stands in the middle of the room, looking confused.

His dashing beauty hits me like a snowball to the face. Goosebumps rise up my arms, forcing the hairs on my neck to stand.

---