17. Bella with Darius on Sunday Afternoon
Chapter seventeen
Bella with Darius on Sunday Afternoon
I enjoyed being out on the water with Molly this morning.
And now, gardening. I’m doing something I love but rarely have had time for. I certainly had no yard since I was young when I would play in the garden with my mom while she pruned and planted and watered. We always had fresh flowers displayed in various rooms. Good memories.
I’m planting purple flowers along the front of the house, kneeling in the dirt. I love the feel of planting something, the smell of the earth, nurturing something to take root.
“Okay,” I murmur, pressing the last cluster of lavender into place. “You’re going to thrive here. You don’t have a choice.”
Charlie sits nearby, watching like this is the most important medical procedure I’ve performed all day.
“It’s called optimism,” I tell him.
The air changes. Subtle but immediate. I still before I even realize I’ve done it.
This is not how I pictured a proper afternoon meeting on the island with him—hands buried in soil, sleeves rolled, hair tied back in a way that guarantees I’ll regret it later. Well, I love flowers. We all make sacrifices, I suppose.
But I know he’s here.
I hear that deep voice that sends chills through me.
“Dr. Russo.”
I don’t turn right away.
I brush the dirt from my hands slowly, deliberately, giving myself a second to recalibrate—to put the professional doctor face back on.
Then I rise and turn.
“I think we’ve established that you can call me Arabella or Bella,” I say.
Darius Hunt stands at the edge of the garden, just beyond the low stone border.
He’s dressed the same as before—dark and mysterious, precise, untouched by the island’s weather in a way that feels less like discipline and more like defiance. I notice he wears an ornate ring that looks from another century, but no silver necklace like most of the men I’ve met so far.
His gaze flicks once over the flowers. Then settles on me.
He didn’t come empty-handed. That’s the next thing I notice along with his gorgeous face and voice…
The flowers he brings me this time are simple. Wild. Not arranged, not showy—just gathered, like he chose them himself instead of sending someone else to do it.
“I didn’t realize house calls came with gifts,” I say with a smile.
“They don’t,” he replies with that voice.
“Then what is this?”
His gaze holds mine.
“A gift for an exceptional woman.”
He hands the flowers to me without ceremony. “They grow along the high ground, Bella,” he says. “They survive where most don’t. I thought of you when I looked at them. Had to bring them.”
I glance down at them, brushing my fingers lightly over the petals. I’m sure I blush at the compliment.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Yes,” he says. And he’s not looking at the flowers. Now I’m sure I blush.
“I see you like to garden,” he says.
“Haven’t had much time in my last job, but yes, I love it,” I reply. “We’ll see if the island agrees. Or will cooperate.”
He smiles a little. “It will.”
There’s something in the way he says it. Certain. Like the island is his to command.
“Is there any specific reason you’re here?” I ask.
“There is.”
I cross my arms lightly, waiting.
“You will come to The Cliffs tonight,” he says.
It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
I blink once. “I’m sorry—what?”
“You will come to The Cliffs,” he repeats, like the phrasing isn’t the problem. “To my home.”
“I heard you,” I say. “I just wasn’t aware we’d skipped the part where you ask.”
“I am not asking.”
I stare at him.
“You realize that’s not how this works, right?”
“It is how this works,” he replies.
“No,” I say, sharper now. “It’s not. I have patients. I have—”
“Finn will cover for you,” he cuts in. “You have questions. About The Wilds and the Bell Tower. About this place…”
Well, he’s right. Annoyingly.
“And you’re going to answer them?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Come,” he says, stepping closer—not into the garden, but near enough that the space between us feels deliberate. “And decide for yourself. Please.”
I hold his gaze. Everything about him says control. Everything in me says I shouldn’t go.
“You realize I don’t take orders,” I say.
“Clearly you don’t. I like that about you.” He pauses and says softer, “That’s why you should come.”
I hate that I feel something at that. A tingle. A curiosity.
“I have patients,” I say again, though it sounds weaker now.
“They will be watched,” he says. “I already talked to Finn.”
I glance toward the clinic.
“You planned this, then,” I say.
“Yes, I did.” No apology or hesitation. I exhale slowly.
“You’re incredibly frustrating.”
“I’ve been told so.”
I make him wait. I pause. I look at the flowers he brought me. Try not to notice that my pulse accelerates every time I think of him.
I look at the neat rows of lavender and rosemary and the few stubborn blooms I just planted. They already look like they might make it here.
Then I finally look back at him.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll come.”
His expression doesn’t change but he seems satisfied.
“Good,” he says.
“I didn’t say I’d enjoy it,” I say, just to sound difficult. I can’t make it easy on him.
“Oh, but you will,” he replies.
“Confidence isn’t always attractive.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
I almost smile. So does he.
“Give me twenty minutes to freshen up,” I say.
“I’ll be here waiting.”
Of course he will.
I freshen up and change into a crisp white shirt with billowing sleeves and a black skirt. I check in with Finn before stepping outside. Darius looks at me approvingly when I join him outside.
The drive up to The Cliffs in his Jaguar is not what I expected. The views are beautiful. He plays soft classical music and points out various things on the island. I notice his elegant hands, graced by that large, ornate ring. I notice how smoothly he moves.
When we arrive at the top of the island, at The Cliffs, there’s no dramatic gate. No obvious boundary.
Just a gradual change. The road is wide. The landscaping is amazing and lush, like one finds in Europe.
The fog pulls back as if it’s been instructed to as we arrive at the estates. What everyone calls The Cliffs. The spectacular homes rise out of the landscape like they’ve always been there and everything else was built around them.
Stone and glass and history layered into architecture that doesn’t belong to a single time period. Some have ivy and medieval looks. Others are ultra modern. A few are rambling like in the Hamptons or Cape Cod. But they are all gigantic and simply opulent.
I lean slightly forward in the passenger seat.
“It’s beautiful here,” I murmur as I gaze at one manor after the other, noting the grounds full of flowering bushes, European trees, fountains and statues and wide driveways. The homes line the cliff, looking out to sea and down at Hunt’s Landing like sentinels.
When I look at Darius, I feel a chill run up my spine from being so close to him. I feel attracted to him physically but hide it as best I can.
“How long have you lived here?”
“A very long time,” he murmurs as we turn into a drive. “My whole life.”
We pull to a stop in front of one of the largest mansions, the one I saw from the water with Molly. Of course it’s his.
Calling it a house feels incorrect. Mansion doesn’t quite cover it either. It’s something older. Something that remembers.
“Welcome, Bella. We’ve arrived. After you,” he says, opening my door.
I step out of his car. Even the air here is different. Cleaner and sharper, less heavy with salt. And quieter.
Inside—
it’s worse. Or better. Depending on how you look at it.
The entry hall opens wide, ceilings high enough to make sound feel optional. Dark wood, polished stone, soft lighting that doesn’t quite reveal everything at once.
I step into the room—
and everything inside me goes still. Immediately.
This is it. This is the room in all of my recurring dreams!
The dark wood. The height. The way the shadows settle into the corners like they’ve always been there. The air—old, heavy, familiar in a way that makes no sense. Every bit of this room is what I’ve seen hundreds of times in my dreams.
I’ve stood here before. I know I have. I turn slowly, taking it in, my pulse rising with each second that passes.
“This isn’t possible,” I whisper. “I’ve seen this room before, Darius.”
Behind me, I feel him step closer.
“You’re certain?” Darius says with that deep, sensual voice but it’s quieter now. His voice slides through me, closer, undeniably appealing.
I close my eyes for a second. Just one. And I’m back there. The dream. Him.
You found your way back to me. That’s what he always says at the end of the dream. Face in shadow.
My eyes snap open. I turn to him. Fully. No hesitation this time.
“This is the room,” I say.
“What room?” he asks. But it’s not a real question. The look on his face tells me he knows.
“You know what room,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t move. But something in him tenses as watches me.
“I’ve seen this place,” I continue. “Before I ever came here. Before I knew this island existed. Before I ever met you.”
I’m silent as I watch him.
“I’ve been dreaming about it for years. And you were there,” I say.
The words hang between us. Unavoidable.
“I never saw your face,” I add. “But I always heard your voice. Saw your shadow.”
He looks at me quietly. Longer this time.
“And you said things—things I didn’t understand then.”
I take a step closer to him, closing the distance. He doesn’t move.
“But I think I might understand them now. Maybe a little.”
His jaw tightens.
“You found your way back to me,” he says softly.
I can’t believe it! The words, the ones I’ve heard over and over through the years.
My heart jumps.
Now I know why his voice sounded so familiar when I first heard him in the clinic. So resonant and deep. It was him.
He takes a deep breath. He seems to be taking in the scent of me, which is kind of odd and kind of interesting.
“So I’m not imagining this,” I say quietly. “Am I?”
Silence stretches. And finally he exhales.
“No,” he says. The word settles into the room like a shift in gravity.
My heart stumbles.