Chapter 8
EIGHT
M rs. Polo comes into Bria's room, directing her smile at me. “Mr. Donati is waiting for you in his library.”
I glance at the women, observing Bria's beauty. Her long golden hair is freshly curled; she's undoubtedly Mr. Donati's girlfriend, though I don't see a ring on her finger, so not his wife. “Where is the library?”
“Down the hall, there’s an open archway to your right,” Bria tells me.
As I stroll down the hall by myself, I savor a morning free from cleaning. I ponder whether this is what life in the boarding home will entail. Upon reaching the end of the hall, I discover an open archway that showcases a stunning, lengthy room. Each wall is lined with towering shelves brimming with books. How did I overlook that last night?
Probably because I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to question what was even happening .
I delve deeper into the shelves, captivated by the warm crackle of the fire. The sound guides me until a standing shelf obstructs my path, revealing a mahogany desk behind it.
There, Mr. Donati sits in a spacious leather chair, turned toward the fire.
To my left, a window reveals a brilliant view of the garden. I would never expect to find such a serene spot in a bustling city, but this place seems hidden and untouched. Rose bushes are scattered throughout, and a small fountain sprays water from its center. The August sun has led a helping hand to keeping everything lusciously green.
I can't understand why Mr. Donati would choose to face the fire when he could enjoy the beauty of the garden.
"Good morning, Ms. Finley," he greets.
"Magnolia," I say, trying to get his attention while positioning myself between him and the fire. He continues to ignore me, fixated on his papers. "Mr. Donati?—"
He turns the page. "Sin."
Axle lays at his feet. When he catches sight of me, he comes to lay by me. Mr. Donati huffs at his abandonment.
"Excuse me?"
"My name is Sin." He sighs, seeming annoyed by my presence.
The warmth of the fire radiates over my body, shaking off the chill that his presence brings me. "Okay, Sin, why am I not at the boarding home?”
“I intercepted your pickup,” he states simply, not looking at me .
Stunned into silence, I trip over my words. “You… did what ?”
Bria dances into the room, humming, oblivious to the disdain I’m showcasing to Sin. “We need your card, our girl needs some new clothes,” she sings.
The room grows quiet as Sin looks up for the first time. He studies me slowly. “I quite like the skirts,” he responds, lazily flipping through the pages of whatever he’s reading.
“Of course, you would.” She rolls her eyes. “Come.”
Sin sneers, “Be careful.”
“I’ll protect your precious pet.” Bria groans.
Pet?
She takes my hand, nearly leading me away, but I stand firm, and we pause. “I need to speak with Ms. Finley privately for a moment.” Sin says.
I give her a pleading look; I need to understand what’s happening. “I just need a second.”
Bria taps her heels impatiently against the marble flooring. “Fine, but make it quick!” she tells him.
“Go away,” he orders.
She takes a moment to leave the library, and as we hear the distant click of her heels on the stairs, Sin approaches me. I stand tall, as if preparing for a posture check by the sisters.
He spins around and places his tattooed hands on my shoulders. “Relax,” he breathes, sending a warm tingle down my spine as he eases my shoulders into a more comfortable position. Then, he sits on the edge of his desk, facing me. “What do you want to know? ”
The arrogance is thick, and it’s making me want to scream. “Rephrase that,” I tell him.
His brow lifts in inquiry, and whether that’s from my tone or the question itself, I don’t know. A dark chuckle escapes his full lips. “You look scared, and you’re probably curious about why you’re here instead of there,” he says, gesturing vaguely.
A wisp of cool air brushes my face, and I find it maddening that he has the air conditioning on while the fire blazes.
“Correct?” he presses.
“Obviously.”
He places his hand to the left, and then sweeps it to the right. “You were going there, and I wanted you here.” He says it as if it’s that simple, as if anything he wants in this world is his so long as he bats his thick lashes. It’s infuriating.
My brows raise. Why would he want me here? “They’re probably looking for me.”
He becomes bored and tilts his head. “They aren't." His tone is icy, unlike the kind man who sent me books.
“How do you know?”
He returns to his desk and thumbs through the pages of a different book, “My driver already told them you ran away at the first red light he made it to.”
Across from the window on my right, I notice an empty bookshelf that reaches twelve feet tall; I scan its vacant surface. “They’ll still ask questions," I tell him.
“You’re of legal age. They're not going to look for a little orphan girl.”
I don't know whether to be alarmed or annoyed. He brought me here, without harm, but now that I'm in front of him his demeanor nearly seems like he doesn't care whether I stay or go. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He flicks his wrist. “To me... to me.” A sigh escapes him. “Did you ever think it was for you, Magnolia?”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
He smiles now, the striking white of his teeth clashes with the black ink that sweeps across his neck. “I figured you would appreciate this, a big home with food and a nice bed. You don't have to share a thing."
"Are you hiring me for cleaning or...?" I trail off.
"I’m just doing you a fucking favor,” he snaps, and I instinctively jolt back. Sin watches the fear in my eyes, tilting his head as if he’s admiring it.
“Stop." I shake my head, taken aback by his choice of words. "I need to know what my purpose is here."
"Why question it?" He leans back in his chair. “You should be bowing at my fucking feet.”
A scoff escapes me, I’ve never had anyone talk to me like this, in that manner. “First off, tone it down.” I narrow my eyes at him, giving the same taste of disdain that’s seeping from him. Matching his energy. “Second, am I free to leave?”
“Well,” he laughs; it’s soft and hollow. He stands again, pushing his chair under the desk, and walks to the fireplace. I'm staring at his perfectly combed, slicked back head of black hair. It matches the matte black of his suit. “Go, then.”
Every fiber of my being is telling my body to run as far away from this mysterious man as possible, but something more powerful, what feels to be the beating of my heart, tells me to stay. “Mr. Donati.”
He tilts his head, looking sharp left. "Sin," he reminds me again before returning his attention to the blaze.
"Did you and your girlfriend adopt me?"
He chuckles, his shoulders lifting. "I'm only thirty, Magnolia. You’re about six months shy of nineteen. I didn’t adopt you; I want to provide you with housing." His gaze shifts to my feet. “Axle has grown fond of you; he ditched me last night for your room. Bria…” he laughs again, low. “Is my little sister.”
For some reason, his telling me that Bria is his sister and not his girlfriend has made butterflies erupt in my stomach. This is an odd feeling, one that I don't quite understand. “Speaking of Axle…” He looks over at his pup. “Where is his collar?”
I shrug, attempting to look innocent, remembering the thick chain that looked ridiculously uncomfortable around his soft neck. “Not sure.” There are too many thoughts racing through my mind. Is the reason that he brought up Axle being in my room last night because he knew I was awake when he came in? Or does he want me to be intimidated by the sheer knowledge he was in my room while I was sleeping? "Did you take pity on me?"
“Yes,” he responds flatly.
I’m uncertain whether I should thank him. All I really want is to escape this room and reflect on all this vague information alone, away from his watchful gaze. "Thank you," I whisper, not quite understanding why I’m thanking this impossible man.
"You’re welcome, Magnolia” He seems pleased with my acknowledgments, “Have fun with my little sister.” He winks, making it seem as though my question was curiosity about him being single.
He ends the conversation with one last, sweeping gaze over my body.
“Don’t buy anything too revealing.”