#2

DIANA The flight dragged on for what felt like an eternity, But eventually, the wheels struck the tarmac, and the waiting finally came to an end. The moment I stepped off the plane, a driver greeted me right by the tarmac, his posture professional as he immediately took my luggage. "Do you need anything at all before we head down to the estate, Miss Diana?" he asked, holding the rear door open for me. "No, thank you. I don't need anything," I murmured, sliding into the seat. He closed the door and soon we were moving. The drive lasted roughly forty minutes. When the car finally slowed, a massive grand estate materialized beyond the wrought iron gates. It was colossal, stone built, and fortress like. Groups of men dressed in tailored dark suits patrolled the grounds, their eyes tracking the vehicle with unblinking focus. Before I could even reach for the door handle, a man stepped forward to open it. He offered a stiff nod. "Welcome, Miss Diana. I will be leading you up to your room." "Thank you," I said, my voice sounding small. He lifted my bags with ease and led the way through the towering front doors. "Mr. Dante is currently at the office," the man informed me over his shoulder, his tone perfectly even. "But he will be returning home later tonight." I simply nodded, my throat tightening at the mention of his name. We reached the end of a wide corridor, and he threw open a pair of double doors. The space inside was immense, beautifully decorated and flooded with soft light. "This will be your room," he said, setting my luggage down near a massive walk in closet. "If you require anything at all, there are staff members stationed throughout the house. The kitchen is just downstairs. We also have a fully stocked library if you prefer to read, or a private cinema if you would like to watch movies." A small grateful smile tugged at my lips. "Thank you so much." The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the silence of the room closed in on me. I peeled off my travel worn clothes, dropping them into a heap, and walked straight into the massive bathroom. The hot water washing away the grime of the journey. I scrubbed my skin raw, desperate to make myself look composed before he walked through the front doors tonight. A few minutes later, I stepped out. I pulled on a pair of simple jeans and a thick, oversized sweater. Picking up my phone from the nightstand, the screen immediately lit up with a barrage of notifications. Fiona had sent hundreds of text messages. I tapped her contact and hit the call button. She picked up on the very first ring. "Diana! Oh my god, finally!" her voice exploded through the speaker. "Hey, Fi," I said, letting out a breath I felt like I’d been holding since the airport. "I just got to the estate." "How are you? Are you okay? What is it like?" "I'm good, really," I assured her, walking over to the wide window that overlooked the gardens. "It’s just… this place is really big, Fi. It’s unbelievable." A high pitched scream of pure delight pierced the line. "I knew it! Oh my god, I seriously cannot wait to come visit you!" "I'll try to get the exact address of this place as soon as I can," I told her, a genuine smile forming on my face. "My twentieth birthday has passed but we can still try to make something out of it next month. If I can get the details, I want to invite you here so we can actually celebrate it together." "Are you serious?" Fiona gasped. "You have to! You’ve literally never tried to celebrate your birthday before, Diana. We are making this a huge deal." I laughed softly, tracking the movement of a guard down in the courtyard. "I know. It's going to be different now." Wanting to share a piece of the madness, I switched the call to video, turning the camera around to sweep across the high ceilings, the plush king sized bed and the elegant furnishings. Fiona gushed loudly, her face pressed close to her screen. "Are you kidding me? That room is literally the size of my entire apartment! You look like royalty in there!" "Yes, but I have to go now, Fi," I interrupted gently, the sudden emptiness in my stomach reminding me how long it had been since I’d eaten. "I'll see you later, okay?" "Fine, fine. Call me tonight! Bye!" We traded quick goodbyes, and I ended the call, sliding the phone into my pocket. I pushed the bedroom doors open and stepped back into the quiet hallway. The corridor branched off into multiple directions, all of them looking identica. I wandered aimlessly, turning down a wide staircase, trying to map out the layout in hopes of locating the kitchen. I turned a corner, and my breath caught as a figure suddenly materialized directly in front of me. I nearly stumbled backward, my shoulders instantly locking tight. The man was tall, handsome, with a thick mane of chestnut brown hair and an easy, relaxed posture. He arched an eyebrow, his eyes scanning my face with blatant curiosity. "Hey, lovely," he said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. "I don't remember ever seeing you around here before." I stiffened further, my hands clenching into the fabric of my sweater. "My name is Diana. I'm… I'm from Dante." The man’s eyes widened slightly before a look of recognition settled across his features. He gave a slow understanding nod. "Oh. You’re the little girl Dante was expecting." My brow furrowed, a sudden prickle of irritation hit me at the word *little*, but I swallowed the remark and gave a curt nod. "Yes." "Nice to meet you, Diana," he said, offering a warm smile. "I'm Marco." "Nice to meet you," I replied softly. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Are you looking for something? You look a little lost." "I am," I admitted, looking down the corridor. "I'm just trying to locate the kitchen." "Follow me," Marco said, gesturing for me to accompany him. He turned and walked down the hall, his steps casual. He led me through a set of swinging doors into a massive, state of the art kitchen. He walked behind the long island and looked over at me. "What would you like to eat?" "I'll just grab some cereal," I said quickly, not wanting to be a burden on anyone in this strange house. "Don't worry about it." Marco let out a scoff, waving his hand dismissively. "Nonsense. You're going to sit right there and relax while I make you some good spaghetti. Cereal isn't a real meal." "Really, it's fine, I can just—" I started, stepping forward to intercept him. "I’m not hearing it," he interrupted with a laugh, already pulling a large pot from a deep cabinet and setting it on the stove. A quiet "Thank you" muttered past my lips as I finally relented, sliding onto one of the high leather barstools across the island. I watched him move efficiently around the space, filling the pot with water and gathering fresh ingredients from the massive refrigerator. Marco kept his back to me for a moment, tossing the ingredients into a pan before he leaned his hands against the counter, turning his gaze back to me. His eyes were curious but entirely friendly. "So," he said, tilting his head slightly as the oil began to sizzle behind him. "Why don't you tell me a brief story about yourself?"