Page 13 of The Sound in Silence

“Ariella.”

Nothing.

I gently tug the blanket from her shoulder, revealing her face first, and then the rest of her body. She must feel the difference in air temperature, but if she does, she shows no sign. Strands of her hair lie over her face and I flick them off, revealing what she fell asleep hiding.

Dried teardrops stain her cheeks. Not many, which tells me she didn’t cry for long, but still, the sight of them makes my own throat tighten with emotion in a way I’veneverfelt before.

I’ve never felt protective over a woman whatsoever, but despite the situation surrounding our new relationship, I want to keep Ariella safe, for reasons more than the surname she now bears. I want to ensure she doesn’t cry again, especially when we both entered the union with eyes wide open.

My finger strokes over her cheek once, then twice, and finally her lashes flutter. Her mouth parts in a small yawn and she stretches. The movement makes her breasts rise from the simple dress she wore for the ceremony. The white is beautiful and in many ways made her red hair bolder, like the green silk had.

“We’ve arrived.”

She blinks up at me, first with a furrowed brow and then with widening eyes, as though forgetting and then remembering all in the same flash of where she is, why she’s here, and who I am to her.

Stretching my hand out, I offer her the support to sit, and then eventually stand. She’s slow coming up, her arms bending to stretch with her movements. A sleepy but almost genuine smile finds me and I commit it to memory, wondering if this is what she’ll look like every morning.

“Come on.” I lead her from the plane’s bedroom and past the couches, and by the pilot who dips his head in acknowledgment. “Careful on the steps.”

The sun’s plunged low in the sky, making it dark with a slight glow. The airfield is lit up with the tall lights fixed around so I have faith she won’t fall, but still, my pace is slower than normal, ensuring I’m there to catch her tumble if she missteps.

The door to the black town car is already open, and my driver, Matthew, stands beside it. Presuming Caladin is already seated and her bags already stowed in the trunk, I gesture for her to enter first. She does after the slightest hesitation, her gaze skirting the empty field. I wonder if she’s thinking about the fact she’s no longer in Montreal. Or if she’s regretting this now. I wonder everything that’s in her head.

And hate that I care.

Caladin’s tucked in the farthest corner, head buried in his phone, having claimed the bench behind the driver’s seat. Ariella presses herself against the left side of the car, leaving ample space for me.

“Want to be dropped off at the condo?” I offer, my less-than-subtle hint saying my cousin won’t be coming home with us.

Caladin smirks without looking up from his phone. “That’ll work, sure.”

Ariella shows no interest in the hour-long drive from our private airfield in New Jersey to Manhattan. Perhaps growing up in a chaotic city too, she’s used to the bustle, the traffic, the honking, and the crowds dangerously walking into traffic in their rush. If it differs at all from Montreal’s chaos or if it’s quite similar, her expression gives no indication as she keeps a stoic stare out the window and ignores us. I want to ask her if she’s ever left Canada before, but don’t. Like a deer, I could spook her and then I’ll be back at ground zero.

Besides, my wondering needs to end. No more caring about the woman who’s merely an accessory. It’s all Aurora would have been to me; therefore, it’s what Ariella and Iwillbe.

When the car finally stops in front of theFamiglia-owned condo building Caladin and I both live in, I get out of the vehicle to allow Caladin by. Ariella remains inside, pressing far to the other side.

“Not coming up?” He gestures toward the upper floors.

I shake my head. “She’ll be staying at the family mansion. Makes more sense. It’s safer and she’ll like it more.”

In a lower voice, he whisper-yells, “And maintains the distance between you two. Be honest.”

I only nod. He slaps me on the arm and heads toward the glass entrance doors, equipped with a doorman, who greets him as he strides inside.

Once seated again, I command Matthew to drive us to the mansion, and Ariella stiffens but doesn’t face me.

It makes for a long three-hour drive through the city’s traffic and out toward the Hamptons, passing numerous smaller towns on our way. All beautiful and picturesque in their own way. They manage to keep Ariella’s attention, as her hands fiddle with the edge of her phone case, composing a rhythmic sound that fills the car. A sound I find oddly soothing.

Once we enter the Hamptons, the houses get more spaced out. Each one large, each one with a huge amount of property. Grass on one side, the ocean waterfront on the other. The Rossi mansion is at the very end, owning a massive stretch of the island, right on the edge of the water.

As we approach, Ariella’s expression finally breaks into amazement, making me smile. At least, she’ll enjoy her new home. There’s a bit of pride that she enjoys where I’m locking her inside. Through any window of the newly-renovated mansion, she’s likely to see the ocean so hopefully, she enjoys water.

I could ask her, but her tiny gasp fills the silence, as we drive up the long driveway and around the circular water fountain maintained in the centre of the roundabout. The sound tells me she’s mentally present.

“Welcome to your new home.”

Ariella

---