15. Ariana

CHAPTER 15

ARIANA

N ightmares, tangled and dark, haunt me as I stir in my narrow bed. Kevin’s shadow lurks in every corner, while Valen stands cold and distant, a fortress of unreadable intentions. I wake up with a start, drenched in sweat and tangled in sheets that feel like shackles.

Exhaustion clings to me as I get dressed, the mirror reflecting the circles under my eyes and the uncertainty etched on my face. The tiny room feels even smaller today, the reality of bills and worries pressing in.

"I can't go back to that," I mutter, shaking off the remnants of sleep as I pull my dress over my head. "No slums. AndI can't go back to my parents. I can't be a burden on them."

The walk to the main office is uneventful but feels like trudging through quicksand. Every step is an effort, but I force myself onward. When I arrive, the estate's grandeur does little to lift my spirits today.

I receive my task list and head straight to the kitchen where Mrs. Tamsin is already bustling about.

“Morning,” she greets without looking up from her chopping.

“Morning,” I reply, grabbing an apron.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that.”

She glances at me then, her eyes sharp despite her age. “Focus on your duties. It’ll help.”

I nod, grateful for her practical advice. No time for distractions. Not today.

As I move about the kitchen, cleaning and organizing, snippets of conversation float in from the dining hall.

“...Valen’s business dealings are getting complicated...”

“...heard he had a confrontation with someone last night...”

I try to block it out, focusing on scrubbing pots until they shine.

Next, I head to clean the grand hall. Dusting each intricate carving and polishing every surface becomes a kind of meditation. The rhythmic motions keep my mind from wandering too far into dangerous territories of doubt and fear.

Lunch service comes and goes without incident. Valen’s presence is a constant undercurrent in my thoughts but I force myself to stay focused.

After lunch, as I’m wiping down tables, Mrs. Tamsin sidles up next to me.

“Heard you had a visitor recently,” she says casually.

My hand stills on the cloth. “You could say that.”

“Dangerous?”

“Potentially.”

She pats my shoulder. “Keep your head down and do your job well. That’s all you can control.”

Nodding, I finish cleaning the table with renewed determination. No matter what happens outside these walls or how confusing Valen may be, one thing remains clear: I need this job more than anything else right now.

And so I work silently, letting each task drown out the turmoil inside me.

The grand hall feels like a mausoleum today, every polished surface reflecting my sullen expression. Dusting the intricate carvings on the mantle, I catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye. Valen strides into the room, his presence magnetic even in my periphery.

"How are you?" His voice cuts through the silence, calm but with an edge of impatience.

"Fine," I reply curtly, not looking up from my work. The word tastes bitter in my mouth.

He lingers for a moment, as if expecting more. When none comes, he nods slightly and walks away, his footsteps echoing through the vast space. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and continue dusting, focusing on each carved detail as if it holds the secret to keeping my emotions in check.

There's an ache in my chest, a constant reminder of what might have been. Our conversations were once filled with subtle flirtations and shared stories. Now, they’re stilted and professional, leaving a void that gnaws at me.

I move to the windows next, polishing the glass until it sparkles. The gardens outside are lush and meticulously maintained—a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me.

"Need any help?" Mrs. Tamsin’s voice startles me out of my reverie.

"No, I'm good," I say, forcing a smile.

She gives me a knowing look but doesn't press further. "Alright then."

She leaves me to my thoughts, which circle back to Valen like vultures to a carcass. I remember the warmth in his eyes when he tended to my cut hand, the gentle touch that spoke volumes more than words ever could. But now, those moments feel like illusions—mirages in a desert of formality and distance.

I finish the windows and move on to sweeping the floor. Each stroke of the broom is methodical, almost meditative. But even in this mundane task, memories of Valen intrude—his rare smiles, the way he looked at me as if seeing something precious.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath.

I can't afford to lose focus now. Not with bills piling up and an ex-boyfriend who won't take no for an answer. Valen's estate offers security and stability—two things I desperately need. But every interaction with him is a reminder of what we’re not discussing: the growing tension between us and the unspoken grief over a budding relationship now stunted by business pressures and secrets.

The day drags on, each task blending into the next. By late afternoon, exhaustion sets in but so does a grim resolve. If Valen wants to keep things professional and distant, fine by me. I'll do my job and keep my emotions buried deep where they can’t interfere.

"Mrs. Tamsin, do you need anything from the market?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. The need to escape the estate's suffocating atmosphere is becoming overwhelming.

She looks up from her pot of stew, arching an eyebrow. "You volunteering for an errand run? Must be a special occasion."

I chuckle, but it sounds hollow even to me. "Just thought a change of scenery might do me good."

She nods, wiping her hands on her apron. "Alright then. I put in an order with the baker this morning. It should be done. Make sure it's all there." She hands me a crumpled piece of paper.

"Thanks," I say, tucking the list into my pocket and heading for the door.

The market is bustling despite the dilapidated surroundings. Stalls line the dusty streets, each vendor calling out their wares in hopes of attracting a customer. The air smells of freshly baked bread and spices, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and desperation.

I weave through the crowd, heading straight for the bakery. The baker greets me with a warm smile.

"Ariana! What can I do for you today?"

"Just here for Mrs. Tamsin's usual order," I reply, handing him the list.

He glances at it and nods. "Give me a moment."

As he gathers the items, I look around, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. The market feels like a different world compared to Valen's estate—gritty but alive with a kind of raw energy that speaks to survival and resilience.

The baker returns with a small sack full of fresh pastries. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I say, paying him before turning back towards the estate.

But instead of heading straight back, I take a detour through one of Armstrong's more secluded alleys. The narrow passageway opens up into a small courtyard, overgrown with weeds but offering a rare pocket of peace in this war-torn city.

The entire time I can't help but feel like I'm being followed. But every time I look around me, I'm alone.

I sit on an old stone bench, placing the sack beside me. The quiet is a balm to my frayed nerves, giving me space to think.

My mind drifts back to Valen—the way his eyes smoldered when he looked at me, the warmth in his touch that belied his brooding exterior. Despite his distant demeanor lately, there's something undeniably magnetic about him that keeps pulling me in.

But then there's Kevin—always lurking in the back of my mind like a shadow I can't shake off. His threat hangs over me like a storm cloud, darkening even my brightest moments.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?" I mutter to myself.

The quiet courtyard offers no answers, just more questions swirling in my mind. My heart feels like it's caught in a tug-of-war between fear and attraction—each pulling me in opposite directions.

Sitting on the old stone bench, I close my eyes and let the quiet seep into my bones.

I remember our dinner under the stars, a night that felt plucked from a dream. The table set with care, soft lights casting a warm glow over us. Valen's eyes, those smoldering green depths, watching me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“You like it?” he had asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

“It's beautiful,” I’d replied, meaning more than just the setting. The way he looked at me, the subtle touches, everything about that night felt like a fairytale. A brief escape from reality.

And then there was the way he protected me from Kevin. The memory of his cold fury as he confronted my ex-boyfriend is still vivid. Valen's protective instincts had kicked in without hesitation, making it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any threat to me.

"Stay away from her," he had growled, his voice as menacing as it was calm.

Kevin had left humiliated and battered, but not before vowing revenge. The threat still lingers in the back of my mind, but knowing Valen is willing to go to such lengths for my safety brings an odd sense of comfort.

I trace the edge of the stone bench with my fingers, lost in thought. The night we spent together—our kiss had been searing, full of unspoken promises and pent-up desire. His touch had been both tender and possessive, a contradiction that left me breathless.

Our night of passion was intense and consuming, leaving no room for doubts or second-guessing. In those moments, everything felt right—like we were meant to be together despite the chaos around us.

But now... now things are complicated. His distant demeanor since then has been a sharp contrast to the warmth he showed me that night. It makes me question everything.

Yet despite the confusion and uncertainty, there's something undeniably real about what we share. Something worth holding on to.

I stand up from the bench, dusting off my dress and grabbing the sack of pastries. Heading back towards the estate, I resolve to give this... whatever it is with Valen... a chance. The connection we have feels too strong to ignore.