Chapter 7
SEVEN
I whip around, ready to question why I’m here and not at the boarding school. “Mr. Rollins,” I squeak into the quiet room; it’s vast, and I’m surprised when my voice doesn’t bounce back at me.
Only the sounds of the crackling fire stand between us. He raises his hand innocently. “Rollins,” he responds.
“Rollins,” I repeat. “The sisters told me I was going to a boarding school, but I don’t see anyone else here.” Maybe he owns it?
He nods. “Let me show you to your room.”
Why is he not answering me? “Am I safe?” I dare to ask.
Rollins inspects me, but his rosy cheeks and warm smile prevent any fear from surfacing. He laughs—a deep, joyful sound—before gesturing down the hall. "You’re in the safest building in the city. Trust us, Ms. Finley.”
“Magnolia,” I correct with a worried grin .
He gestures to the painting behind me. “I’ll let Mr. Donati explain to you why you’re here.”
I nod. “Well, where is he?”
“He will be here in the morning.”
“Do the sisters know?” I ask and Rollin’s hesitation makes me pause. “Am I free to leave?”
“Of course!” he replies, “but you should wait until tomorrow to hear from Mr. Donati yourself. It’s up to you.”
Curious questions whirl through my mind, and even after napping in the car, I still feel drained. If someone intended to harm me, I’d be finished by now. The day’s adrenaline isn’t helping me think clearly.
I bite my lip and twiddle my thumbs before finally sighing. “Could you show me to the bedroom? I’m incredibly exhausted.”
Rollins guides me up a winding staircase resembling black glass, leading to an endless hallway on the top floor. The walls are a deep metallic gray with texture, and I trace my fingers along the grooves. The trim is elegantly painted black.
Rollins halts at the last door on the left. "Rest, Magnolia. You’re home," he says before walking down the hall, leaving me by myself.
I inhale deeply before turning the knob and stepping into the room. This space contrasts sharply with everything I’ve encountered before. While the main hall was suffused with amber light and adorned with matte black accents, this room radiates brightness.
Cream-colored walls enclose me, and the shiny white floors beneath my feet seem to sparkle with flecks of glitter. A four-poster bed draped in a fluffy white comforter sits against the wall, right beside an expansive patio.
There are two doors, one I assume is a closet, and the other possibly a bathroom? I've never had my own, but I'm too dizzy to do a self-tour of the space.
I desperately want to walk outside and stare at the view from the patio, but the bed is calling my name, and sleep is lulling me away.
I never would have imagined something in the city could look like this. There’s a gothic presence about it, but somehow, it’s the most modern thing I’ve ever seen. We’re tucked away on what I assume is a fancy street, and it’s quiet here.
I’m used to the chatter of girls around me, but the silence is nearly deafening. Even when we came to the city to visit the church, it wasn’t like this. There were sirens everywhere, and the sisters would warn us that the city was full of sinful sounds.
But as I slip into a pair of pajamas that were laid out for me, I don't feel anything sinful. The silk sheets are like butter against my legs.
It feels like a fever dream, all of it unreal. My body is shutting down; I can feel the adrenaline from the day being replaced with a sleepy melody that makes my body feel heavier with every breath.
Goodnight, moon.
It isn’t but a few minutes after I sink into the softest bed I’ve ever laid on that I drift into a long, deep sleep.
Natural light gently spills through the window, rousing me in a way that feels different from home... or rather, the place I grew up. Back there, the sun would sneak in wherever the bare branches allowed, sprinkling sparse beams of light to announce the start of a new day.
But here, it’s almost like the windows were made with the sun in mind. I even stick my leg out from the heavy comforter to see if I can feel its warmth.
I do.
A knock sounds, and against all better judgment, I slip back into bed and shut my eyes. I’m uncertain why, but I do it anyway.
Cautiously glancing, I observe a pair of elegant black dress shoes moving toward the distant window. Aware that their owner is turned away, I take a quick peek.
Mr. Donati appears irritated as he silently yanks the curtains aside and shakes his head. The room brightens significantly, making me squint when I shut my eyes once more.
As I hear his footsteps grow closer to me, my heart thunders. I keep my eyes shut.
The soft bedding dips and I suck in a gentle string of breath, he’s nuzzling against me. I don’t react, I don’t even know what to do. I’ve never been alone in the bedroom with a man, much less in the same bed! Then the weirdest sensation covers my hand; it’s wet. A lick.
“Don’t wake her, Axle,” Mr. Donati chuckles as a cold nose lifts my hand to try to get me to pet him. It’s a dog, and that nearly makes me turn around and snuggle the pup. I’ve always wanted one, but the orphanage didn’t allow them .
Mr. Donati’s knuckles graze my cheek gently, wiping the hair from my face. "What am I going to do with you, Magnolia?"
A million questions dance through my mind, but curiosity keeps me quiet. His touch, pulling the comforter higher around me, the way he keeps moving a wild hair that flops back, it calms me.
Sin begins to retreat, begging Axle to come with him, but the dog doesn’t budge.
“Seriously?” he huffs. “You don’t like anyone,” he tells the pup before closing the door. It creaks open again, hesitantly. “You sure, buddy?”
Axle huffs and collapses his face against my side. The door closes again, but this time it’s followed by leather soles tapping against the floor as Mr. Donati walks away.
I glance over at the dog, seeing he’s as long as I am! His tail wags excitedly, and his tongue is playfully sticking out. He’s a rottweiler and quite possibly the goodest boy I’ve ever seen.
I gently stroke the soft fur on his head, and he sweetly nudges his nose into my neck. The thick chain of his collar feels a bit uncomfortable and cold against my skin, so I decide to take it off. A big lick wets my cheek, and I try to stifle my laughter. With Axle beside me, I feel safe and cozy, and soon I drift off to sleep again.
A gentle shake wakes me later.
As my eyes flutter open, I anticipate to see Mr. Donati. Instead, I find two women. One is older, pushing a cart and wearing an apron, her graying hair framing decades of smile lines. I scan the room for Axle, but he’s nowhere to be found .
The other is young, maybe mid-twenties. She’s in high heels, a tight red dress, with bleach-blonde hair that reaches below her chest. “Magnolia?” She smiles. “Good morning!”
I sit up too abruptly, causing a dizzy spell. "Hi," I nearly whisper. I recognize that I should feel more concerned about not being taken where I expected, but everyone has treated me so kindly that I believe there's a purpose for my presence here.
Besides, truth be told, I’m ready for an adventure.
"Come on, let’s get dressed!” The younger woman reaches out her hand, which I take.
She plucks a small cake from the tray. “Thanks, Mrs. Polo," she beams at the woman who brought in the food.
Mrs. Polo halts me with a gentle palm against my shoulder before I can pass her table. "Take whatever you’d like, dear." Her kindness radiates, filling the room with warmth when she smiles. I thank her and take a small plate, along with a cup of coffee.
Whatever it is, it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. But I can’t concentrate on that now, as this unnamed woman pulls me out of the bedroom and to the left side of the hall, where she opens a door. “What did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t.” She looks at me with a grin practically as wide as this hallway. “But it’s Bria.”
I’m still in my pajamas. Didn't she say to get dressed? “My clothes are in the room.”
She shakes her head, “No, we’re going to get you in something that’s... cuter. I saw your skirts. Aren’t you tired of wearing them?”
I shrug. “It’s all I’ve ever worn.” Then, I tilt my head. “How did you see my skirts?”
"I had a feeling." She gestures animatedly. “Mrs. Polo unpacked your bags. I tried to wake you, but she stopped me.” Her eyes roam over me. "I’m not sure if we’ll fit the same size. You have way better curves than I do."
I stifle a laugh. “You’re also like a foot taller than me.”
We both giggle as we step into her massive walk-in closet. “I like you, Magnolia.” Her manicured nails skim through rows of vivid colors, but she lands on a black dress. “Here! This will look so good on you.”
It seems like something for a fancy dinner. "Where are we going?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. Do you want to get some lunch?"
I stare at the dress in my hands. "This… for lunch?" This is an evening dress for someone more distinguished, which isn’t me by a long shot.
Bria flicks her wrist, displaying a dazzling set of red nails. I've never had my nails done. "Don't be shy, try it on."
I've changed in front of hundreds of strangers throughout my life; our rooms were a revolving door for other girls, so this doesn't bother me at all. I slip into the thin fabric but can barely get it past my thighs. "It doesn’ t fit." I blush.
“No worries! We’ll go shopping after lunch. How does that sound?”
I nod in response, but I need answers. Like why am I here?
After returning to my room and changing into a plaid skirt with a white top, I return back to Bria. "I'd like to talk to Mr. Donati."