CHAPTER 5: ARIELLA

The lady was crazy. As soon she escorted me into this room, all doubt of her sanity vanished. She was insane.

That was the only logical explanation for the woman currently gesturing hysterically at the decor of the room.

"So do you like it?" Her smile seemed so out of place on her pale face, her eyes stained with runny mascara and her tears. The purpose of her crying still eluded me.

Taking in the beautiful room, from the Queen sized bed filled with enough pillows to build a palace, to the human sized windows that occupied the wall opposite the front door with a red seat attatched to one. Everything was beautiful. "Ma'am I think you..."

The bronze door pushed open, interrupting me as Killian strode in, holding my tattered backpack which ruined his look with his crisp suit hugging his muscular frame perfectly. "Don't overwhelm her mum. She doesn't need to know the origin of every ornament in this room."

The woman, Killian mum apparently, chuckled. "I'm just so excited. It'll be dark soon, but I just want to stay here forever."

She moved forward, and my waist pressed into the wooden, honey colored chest of drawers from the instinctive step back.

"She's definitely tired after that trip. I know you're excited mum, but maybe we should get her settled first?" The echo of his steps faded once he stepped onto the plush wine rug that took up the majority of the floor, towards his mum.

"Oh, how foolish of me. You must be starving, let me go and check if the chefs are done cooking." She rushed towards the door, leaving me alone with Killian.

My eyes roamed him, searching for any sign that he was angry or about to harm me in any way. It was inevitable, but it didn't hurt any more to be prepared.

Rather than raging at me for leaving him for his mom though, he placed his hands behind his back, stepping forward, eyes locked to mine. "There's something important I need to discuss with you. Preferably after mother has calmed down."

"Um..did I do something wrong, sir?" Whatever it was, if he couldn't discuss it infront of his mom then it had to be bad.

"No, you haven't done anything. And I've told you, don't call me sir." He pressed two fingers to his temple, sighing deeply.

"Sorry sir..er, I mean Killian. Mr Killian? Mr Morozcov?"

"Killian is fine. Listen I_"

His mother's high pitched voice cut him off, ringing in my ears like a Chinese gong as she stepped in. "Ella dear, I'm not sure what you like now but when Killian told me you were coming I had the chefs make a bit of everything."

"Mother we'll join you soon, I just need to speak with her for a moment."

"You've had hours to do so. Whatever you want to discuss can wait." She cupped my cheeks, then scrunched her nose like my scent mimicked that of a decaying rat. "Preferably you should clean up first, while the maids set the table."

"Ok." She ignored my respose, glancing at Killian instead.

"You should get cleaned up too. Go downstairs when you're done. I'm going to help her get cleaned up."

Killian nodded, frowning slightly as he left the room. That wasn't exactly an unusual sight, in the short time since we met, smiling was a rarity for him.

"The bathroom's over there, I'm going to get you something you wear. Leave your dress in the basket by the door." She pointed to a bronze painted door a few feet from the chest of drawers. She hesitated a bit before releasing my hand, then she was gone.

This whole family was weird, but that lady was exceptional. She kept acting like her was her long lost daughter or something. And how she knew my name was beyond me, after all even Killian had asked when he took me from the brothel last night.

The bathroom door pushed open as my hand turned the knob. The interior was quite similar to the bathroom in the hotel, only clearly more expensive and maintained.

The yellow sundress fell of my frame, followed by my underwear and sandals, leaving me entirely bare. Goosebumps rose on my skin when the warm water of the shower made contact with it.

My questions seemed to have doubled since we got here. Mrs Morozcov's reaction my arrival only fueled my confusion. Her son brought home a literal prostitute. Not exactly a mother's dream surprise.

Perhaps she didn't know, but still, killian had to have told her something.

Every logic seemed to only result to more questions, and zero answers.

Ten minutes and a hot shower later, my feet brushed against the rectangular shaped rug in front of the bathroom door.

Mrs Morozcov was already there, sitting on the duvet of the queen sized bed. "You're done?"

Nodding, my eyes drifted to a beautiful navy blue, knee lenght dress laying next to her.

"OK, I'll just leave you to get dressed then." She smiled her eyes welling up with tears once again. "I still can't believe Killian brought you home."

"What?"

"Even after all these years, he made sure to bring my daughter back." She pulled me into a tight hug. "I know it's been so long, but I promise the men who did this will suffer. And you'll never have to worry about a thing again, Stella."

The clicking of her heels already faded out of the room and down the hall before her words sink in, and the questions doubled.

"Did she just call me her daughter?" Saying it out loud only led to another head pounding question.

Who the hell was Stella?