12

Talia

“Is everything alright?” Siena asked, giving me a worried look. “You've been absent-minded lately.”

Siena was the housekeeper's daughter, and Selene's best friend since childhood. They’d folded me into their little duo effortlessly.

“I’m fine.” I said automatically.

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press, returning her attention to the dough she was kneading. It had been two days since Ares’ confession, and so far I’d done a commendable job of avoiding him. I knew those dark, hungry words hadn't been meant for me. I was merely a proxy for an obsession that belonged to my sister, yet my body didn't seem to care about the technicality.

Selene breezed into the kitchen, clapping her hands once. “Okay, guys, what did I miss?”

Siena shrugged, transferring the dough into a greased bowl, and covering it with a cloth. “Nothing,” she said casually. Then, with a sideways glance at me, she added, “Though I think there’s something Val isn’t telling us.”

Every time they called me Val, the guilt pressed heavier against my ribs.

Selene plopped onto a stool, snatching an apple from the fruit tray, and taking a loud, aggressive bite. “Does this mystery have anything to do with my brother being back?” she asked around a mouthful. “Because I’ve definitely sensed some… tension.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said quickly. The warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.

“Uh-huh. Then why are you blushing?” Her gaze darted to my hair. “Also, this is totally random, but are you a brunette or a blonde? Your roots are coming in lighter.”

“Oh.” A cold prickle of sweat traced the dip of my spine, my fingers instinctively curling into my hair. I'd gotten careless and forgotten to dye it this week. “B-brunette,” I stuttered, forcing my hand down before the tremor in my fingers exposed me. I swallowed the dry lump of panic in my throat before continuing. “My colorist messed up the gloss, so it's lifting unevenly. I'm supposed to go back in for a correction.”

“I see,” Selene muttered. Thankfully, her curiosity was short-lived. She turned her attention back to Siena. “Have you seen Enzo yet?”

Apparently, Siena was hopelessly in love with Enzo, a recipe for disaster, because no way would their worlds collide. From the backstory I'd gathered, Siena and her mother worked here to pay off her dead father's debt.

“No,” Siena replied, forcing a laugh that didn't reach her eyes. “But guess who I have seen… Ezra.”

Selene hurled her half-eaten apple at Siena, who burst into laughter and ducked out of the way. Selene’s bodyguard was the only person who could make her lose her cool with a single mention of his name. They either despised each other… or were catastrophically in love. With the Marcellis, it was anyone’s guess.

“What's all the fuss about?” Matteo asked, strolling into the kitchen shirtless. He opened the fridge, grabbed the milk, and drank straight out the carton. When he finished, his gaze swept over the three of us, a grin spreading across his face. “What's up, girls? Papa's here.”

“Ewww,” Selene and Siena chorused.

“Are you forgetting I changed your diapers, Matteo?” Siena asked, gesturing at him with her flour-stained hands.

Matteo merely shrugged, his eyes finally settling on mine. “Ignore them, Val.” Then his voice dropped into a conspiratorial hum as he leaned his hip against the marble island, far too close to where I sat, the playful smirk on his face softening into something more observant. “Siena’s just cranky because she hasn’t had her daily dose of Enzo-induced heartbreak, and my sister… well, she’s just a brat.”

“I heard that!” Selene barked, though she was already reaching for another apple.

I tried to offer a small, tight smile, but my heart was doing that frantic, uneven thudding again. They were being so kind, drawing me into their circle with a seamless ease I didn't deserve.

“You’re doing it again,” Siena remarked softly.

“I'm just tired.” I lied.

“Is he keeping you up?” Matteo’s jab was a classic, boorish brotherly banter, but my mind betrayed me, flashing back to forty-eight hours ago. I could still feel the phantom weight of Ares pinning me against that table, telling me he wanted to devour me.

“Matteo, shut up,” Selene snapped, her eyes narrowing as she watched me. “You’re making her blush even more.”

“It’s the kitchen,” I managed to choke out, standing up so abruptly my chair screeched against the tile. “It’s just… hot in here. I think I’ll go find some air.”

“Val, wait—” Siena started, but I was already moving.

I needed to get out before Selene asked about my hair roots again or before they saw through the "Val" mask entirely. I hurried out of the kitchen, my footsteps echoing in the hallway of the Marcelli estate.

My feet didn't stop moving until I reached the doors leading to the gardens. I pushed them open, desperate for the bite of the New York chill to numb the fire in my blood. But as the door swung shut behind me, I realized I wasn't alone. Ares was there, standing by the stone balustrade, his back to me. He didn't turn around, but I saw his shoulders stiffen.

It was three hundred and eighty-four hours now.