C110 Man Of Many Interests

Annabelle woke to the weight of sunlight streaming through the tall, ornate windows of the room she now reluctantly called her own.

For a moment, she basked in the unusual sensation of being utterly relaxed.

Her body was wrapped in the luxurious softness of the bed and the lingering warmth that wasn’t entirely hers.

She blinked sleepily, her mind catching up with her surroundings.

Cathy’s quiet giggles brought her fully awake.

“I didn’t wake you,” Cathy declared, her brown eyes sparkling with innocent mischief as she knelt beside the bed with her elbows on it.

Annabelle’s nose caught the smell before her eyes went straight to the half-eaten cookie in her sister’s hand.

She stretched languidly, her muscles protesting from the deep sleep she'd had.

“You didn’t,” she reassured her sister, her voice husky from the rest. “What’s got you so excited this early?”

Cathy grinned. “Maria said I could come in as long as I promised not to wake you up. I’ve been waiting forever!”

Annabelle chuckled softly, brushing her tousled chestnut hair away from her face.

Her laughter faltered when the events of the previous night hit her like a tidal wave.

Dante.

She turned her head sharply to the other side of the bed, a motion so swift it made her neck twinge.

The spot where he had slept was empty.

The sheets were cool with a barely-there crease at the spot where he slept the night before.

Her stomach clenched at the realisation that he’d left long before she’d woken.

But her traitorous mind immediately conjured the image of his dark, commanding gaze lingering on her as she slept.

Heat surged to her face, and she clutched the sheets to her chest as if that could shield her from the way her thoughts spiraled.

She couldn’t believe it.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms.

He hadn’t even tried to demand that he kept her end of the bargain.

And more than that, she’d felt safe in his arms.

Comforted by the furnace of his body.

Annabelle shook her head, as if to rid herself of the absurdity of it all.

But the fluttering in her chest when she thought of his hands, his voice, and the way he’d held her like she was something precious, was undeniable.

“Annabelle, are you okay?” Cathy’s curious voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” Annabelle said, forcing a smile.

She slid out of bed, grateful that Cathy’s attention had shifted to examining the elaborate carvings on the bedpost.

It gave Annabelle a moment to breathe.

Her attention was drawn to a folded piece of paper on the nightstand.

She picked it up, her pulse quickening as she unfolded the note.

She immediately recognised his bold and angular handwriting.

“Morning, Mia Bella,” it read. “Sorry I had to leave early. Got business to handle. You looked so cute sleeping that I wish I could wake you with my body. Soon enough, babe. Move to my suite.”

Annabelle’s breath hitched as she reread the words.

Move to my suite.

Her heart raced at the implication, her stomach twisting into knots.

Did he mean... permanently?

He wanted her to move in with him?

She supposed she had practically done that anyway.

She’d already crossed the line of dependency by staying here.

But this?

This felt different. More intimate. More... binding.

Like he wanted her around him always!

The note felt heavier than the paper it was written on.

She set it down and shook her head, hoping to clear the haze of emotions.

“I need coffee,” she muttered to herself.

“Yeah, you need to get over yourself too.” her subconsciousness chipped in.

After a light breakfast, where Cathy chattered happily about the chef’s cooking and the mansion’s endless array of treats, Annabelle decided she needed to busy herself.

Especially since Cathy deserted her to go to the kitchen where it seemed they were always coking up something or the other.

Alfredo promised to keep an eye on Cathy and Annabelle took herself out of the way.

She couldn’t sit around and let her mind chew over Dante’s note all day.

The garden seemed like a good distraction.

She found the head gardener, a wiry man with a weathered face and an ever-present sunhat.

She practically begged him to let her help.

He was hesitant at first as he told her she was not meant to do his job for him.

“I don’t want to get into trouble, miss,” he said when Annabelle insisted.

When he glanced at the burly security guards stationed nearby,

Annabelle said “I won't tell if you don't.”

Then she raised her voice, so the men could hear as she said, “And I am sure that no one here has too much time on their hands to be reporting something like this.”

The men didn’t move, but she knew her message was clear enough.

Her persistence finally wore him down.

“Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “Just watering. And don’t let the boss catch you.”

Annabelle grinned and grabbed the watering can, heading toward the vibrant bed of petunias. The late morning sun cast a golden glow over the lush greenery, the earthy scent of soil mingling with the sweet perfume of flowers.

She was soon engrossed, sneaking in a bit of weeding when the gardener wasn’t looking.

It felt good to work with her hands, to lose herself in something simple and grounding.

Anything that could keep her thoughts at bay.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path pulled her from her thoughts. Annabelle looked up to see Antonia approaching, her polished appearance a stark contrast to Annabelle’s slightly disheveled state. Antonia was dressed impeccably in a cream silk blouse and tailored slacks, her dark hair swept into a sleek bun.

“Annabelle,” Antonia greeted her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You look like you’re making yourself at home.”

Annabelle wiped a streak of dirt off her cheek, her smile forced. “Just helping out. It’s relaxing.”

“Relaxing,” Antonia echoed, a hint of amusement in her tone. “Shopping is relaxing,”

She linked her arm through Annabelle’s and gently steered her away from the garden. “I was surprised to hear you’re back. I thought you were desperate to leave this place.”

Annabelle’s jaw tightened.

She wasn’t about to spill her personal business to this woman. “Things changed,” she said carefully.

Antonia’s gaze sharpened. “So, you’re with Dante now?”

“Yes,” Annabelle replied firmly, her chin lifting.

“Willingly?” Antonia’s question was soft, but the insinuation was clear.

Annabelle stopped walking and turned to face her. “Dante would never coerce me into anything. For all his faults, he’s not that kind of man.”

Antonia’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t feel entirely genuine. “You’re quite defensive of him. It’s... endearing.”

Annabelle’s eyes narrowed, but Antonia continued before she could respond. “Remember when I told you never to say never about falling for his charms? Looks like I was right.”

Annabelle remained silent, but Antonia’s words struck a nerve.

“Though,” Antonia added lightly, “if you don’t mind being one of his mistresses, then I’m happy for you.”

Annabelle froze. “Mistresses?”

Antonia waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t take it the wrong way. It’s just... Dante has always been a man of many interests.”

Annabelle’s stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral.

Antonia looked like she wanted to say something else.

But then she checked her watch and gave Annabelle a brief smile, “I have to go. Mikhail and I have an event to attend. Do you know he has a crush on you?”

Annabelle blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Though he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, he’s such a gentleman,” Antonia mused, almost to herself.

“I always thought the two of you would make a great power couple in Acadia. But I suppose you’d rather be...” She trailed off, her smile turning sweet. “Well, never mind. Enjoy your day, Annabelle.”

With that, Antonia walked away, leaving Annabelle standing in the garden, her emotions a chaotic swirl of confusion, anger, and doubt.

The weight of Dante’s note felt heavier than ever.

While the implications of Antonia’s words gnawed at her resolve.

Annabelle turned back to the petunias, but her hands trembled as she gripped the watering can.

Her eyes landed on one of the weeds she had pulled.

At the moment, she felt just like that weed.

Displaced and weightless.