Matilda Anderson's pov
The next day Rita told me I needed to get some clothes..maybe I could escape, I smiled to my self.
As soon as we arrived at the clothing store, I put on my best innocent expression.
"I'll just go change in the room," I told them casually, holding a few outfits in my arms.
Rita waved me off. "Alright, don't take too long."
But the moment I stepped into the changing room, my heart pounded.
A window.
Hope surged through me. I dropped the clothes on the small bench and hurried to the window, pushing it open as quietly as possible. It was a bit of a drop, but I didn't care. I climbed out, landing on my feet with a slight stumble before taking off in a sprint
I need a car. I need to get as far away from here as possible.
The town was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It felt both familiar and strangely different, like I had stepped into another era. I had no idea where I was or where to go. Panic started creeping in.
Then, a voice came from behind me.
"You really thought we wouldn't notice?"
I froze. My entire body went cold.
Slowly, I turned around and saw Darius standing there, arms crossed, an amused yet knowing expression on his face.
Terror filled me. Marco. If he found out, he'd be furious. Would he lock me in the dark room like he'd threatened?
Darius sighed, stepping closer. "Relax. I won't tell Marco."
I narrowed my eyes, skeptical. "Why should I believe you?"
He shrugged. "Because I promise I won't if you come back willingly."
I hesitated. Could I trust him?
He turned to the others who had followed him. "None of you will say a word about this, right?"
They all nodded in agreement.
I swallowed hard, weighing my options.
If I refused, they'd drag me back anyway and Marco would find out.
If I agreed. maybe I'd get another chance.
"Fine," I muttered, shoulders slumping.
Darius smirked. "Good choice. Now, let's get back before they start looking for you."
As I climbed into the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that my time was running out.
The car ride back was silent.
Darius sat beside me, his usual playful smirk absent. He didn't seem angry, but there was something in his gaze a quiet warning.
"You're lucky it was me who caught you," he finally said, breaking the silence.
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Lucky? I don't feel very lucky."
He sighed, shaking his head. "You don't get it, do you? If Marco had found you first." He trailed off, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air.
I shuddered.
Would he have really locked me in the dark room like he said? Or worse?
I didn't want to find out.
We pulled up to the estate, and my stomach clenched. I expected Marco to be waiting at the entrance, his eyes burning with fury. But he wasn't there.
"Where is he?" I asked cautiously.
Darius smirked. "You sound disappointed."
"I just. expected him to be here."
He leaned in slightly. "That's because you're getting used to having him around."
I glared at him. "I am not getting used to him."
Darius chuckled. "Sure." He opened the car door and gestured for me to get out. "Let's go. I'll take you to your room."
I hesitated but stepped out, my eyes darting around. The estate was too quiet. It made me nervous.
As soon as we got inside, I spotted Ana waiting for me. She looked worried but didn't say anything until Darius left.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
I nodded. "Yeah.just tired."
She sighed in relief. "Good. Marco's in a meeting. He doesn't know."
I exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly.
As I lay in bed, exhausted from the failed escape, a soft knock on my door made me tense.
"Matilda?" Ana's voice came through gently.
I sat up, my heart pounding. "Come in."
She peeked in with a nervous smile. "Marco would love to have dinner with you."
I swallowed hard. "Does he. know?"
She shook her head. "No, Darius kept his word."
Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived. I didn't want to see Marco. I wasn't ready. But refusing him wasn't an option.
So, I nodded and followed Ana downstairs.
The dining hall was grand, but eerily quiet. Marco was already seated at the head of the table, his piercing eyes locking onto me the moment I stepped in.
"Sit," he said, his voice surprisingly soft.
I hesitated before slowly lowering myself into the chair across from him. The food was already served, steaming and delicious-looking, but my appetite was gone.
He studied me for a moment, then asked, "How was your day?"
I froze.
Did he know?
I glanced at Darius, who was standing off to the side, watching everything unfold with amusement. He gave me the slightest nod as if telling me I was safe.
Marco didn't know.
Still, I couldn't shake my fear. I lowered my gaze to my plate, my hands trembling slightly.
"Matilda," Marco's voice was softer now. "Are you afraid of me?"
I stiffened, my breath hitching. I didn't know how to answer that. Was I afraid of him? Yes. But there was something else, something I didn't understand.
He sighed and leaned back, his expression unreadable. Then, instead of pressing me for answers, he did something unexpected.
He was. gentle.
His voice, his tone, even the way he looked at me it wasn't filled with anger or force. It was patient, almost kind.
And that confused me more than anything.
I should hate him. I do hate him.
So why did his kindness make my heart race?
I forced myself to stay quiet throughout dinner, refusing to let whatever this was take hold of me.
I kept my head down, pushing my food around with my fork. My silence stretched between us, heavy and unbroken, but Marco didn't push me to talk.
That was the strangest part.
I had expected him to demand answers, to command me to speak. Instead, he let me sit there in my uneasy quiet, only stealing occasional glances at me between bites of his own meal.
And why was he being so gentle?
It was making me more anxious than his anger ever had.
I risked a glance at him, and instantly regretted it.
His golden eyes locked onto mine intense, unreadable, consuming. I felt like he was searching for something inside me, something even I didn't understand.
A shiver ran down my spine.
I quickly dropped my gaze back to my plate, but my stomach churned with something unfamiliar.
This was wrong.
I shouldn't be noticing things about him. Like the way his deep voice held a calm authority. Or how his presence, though intimidating, also carried a strange sense of security.
I hated that part the most.
I clenched my fists in my lap, frustration bubbling inside me. He kidnapped me. He took away my freedom.
So why.why did I feel this pull toward him?
I needed to snap out of it.
I forced myself to take a bite, chewing slowly just to distract myself. Marco noticed and smirked slightly, like he was pleased I was eating.
I hated that too.
When dinner finally ended, I stood quickly, desperate to get away.
Marco's voice stopped me.
"Matilda."
I froze but didn't turn around.
A pause. Then, in a softer voice, he said, "Goodnight."
I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to move as I rushed out of the dining hall, my heart pounding.
By the time I reached my room, I collapsed onto the bed, pressing a pillow over my face.