The Heiress' Revenge

Chapter 193: Her Eyes

Ariana’s POV

I nodded. "Yes, Miss Natasha. Understood."

She turned and walked away. Her heels clicked on the floor.

I picked up the tray; my hands were shaking.

The cups rattled the teapot wobbled. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I tried to steady my hands.

I tried to prepare myself for whoever was waiting in the gazebo.

I walked through the house, heading to the gazebo

Please god!

Let it not be him!

I don’t think I can handle seeing him again.

I got closer, then the figure turned his face, which came into view.

Dante.

My heart stopped as my breath caught. My legs went weak, the tray wobbled, causing the cups to rattle.

He was looking at my mask on my eyes. The way I was shaking with his face was curious.

Confused.

Like he was trying to place me.

Like he was trying to remember where he had seen me before.

I kept walking, knowing I couldn’t turn back. I couldn’t run.

I reached the gazebo and set the tray on the table, with hands that were shaking so bad I could barely hold it.

The cups rattled.

I poured the tea.

"There you are, sir," I said, my voice steady. I was proud of that. "Your tea. Please let me know if you need anything else."

I turned and started to walk away.

My heart was pounding and my legs were weak. I just needed to get back to the house.

And then I tripped.

My foot caught on a loose stone, causing my body to lurch forward, and my arms flailed. I was falling.

I was going to hit the ground. I was going to embarrass myself. I was going to—

Strong arms caught me.

Wrapped around my waist, pulling me against a hard chest.

Warm.

Solid.

Familiar.

Dante.

He had moved faster than I thought possible.

He was holding me, his hands were on my waist, his chest was against my back, and his breath was on my neck.

Electricity shot through my body.

My heart stopped.

My breath caught.

My skin tingled. I could feel him everywhere, his warmth, strength, and presence. It was like no time had passed, as though the last two years had been a dream.

Like we had never been apart.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low.

Concerned.

It sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t speak or move. I couldn’t do anything but stand there, frozen, in his arms.

"Emily."

Natasha’s voice.

Sharp.

Cold.

It broke the spell.

Dante’s hands loosened.

I stepped away and turned to face her. She was standing at the edge of the gazebo.

"You were supposed to serve the tea, not throw yourself at my fiancé."

My face burned behind my mask. "I’m sorry, Miss Natasha, I tripped. It was an accident. I wasn’t—"

"Save your excuses." Her voice was cold. "Just go get out of my sight and don’t let me see you near him again."

I nodded. "Yes, Miss Natasha. I’m sorry."

I turned.

I walked away.

My legs were shaking.

This is what I choose for myself.

Dante’s POV

The gazebo was quiet after she left the maid, one with the mask, the one who had tripped and fallen into my arms, that I could still feel the weight of her body against mine, the warmth of her skin through her uniform.

The way she had frozen when I caught her was like she had seen a ghost or had been struck by lightning.

Almost like

I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t explain it; there was just something about her, something familiar that tugged at the back of my mind, that made my heart race and my hands sweat and my breath catch.

Her eyes.

It was her eyes.

I had seen those eyes before.

Natasha slid her arm through mine, pressing her body against my side with her perfume strong. It made my head ache.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, her voice sweet.

I pulled my arm away and walked to the edge of the gazebo, staring out at the garden.

There’s something about her that I couldn’t point out. Could she be?

No, that’s not possible.

Natasha walked up behind me, putting her hand on my back, causing me to stiffen. I didn’t want her to touch me. I didn’t want anyone to touch me, not since Ariana, not since she died.

I pulled away and walked back to the table. I poured myself a cup of tea.

"The maid," I said. "What’s her name?"

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "Why do you care? She’s just a servant. She’s not worth your time."

"I’m not asking for your opinion. I’m asking for her name."

Natasha sighed.

She walked to the table.

She sat down, crossing her legs, and smoothed her dress. "Emily, her name is Emily, she’s been here for two years. She wears that mask because she has some kind of skin condition."

Emily.

The name meant nothing.

Of course, it wasn’t Ariana.

But her eyes, those eyes, were so familiar that they haunted me

"The tea is getting cold," Natasha said, her voice was light.

I set the cup down. I didn’t want tea.

"Tell me about the wedding plans," I said, not that I cared, but I had to pretend.

Natasha’s eyes lit up. "Oh, it’s going to be beautiful. The ceremony will be in the garden. The flowers will be white and gold... and my dress is being designed by a famous designer in Paris."

I nodded. "Sounds lovely."

She talked for another twenty minutes about the flowers, food, and music.

The guest list.

The honeymoon.

I didn’t listen much cause my was elsewhere with the maid with Emily.

When she finally paused to take a breath, I stood up. "I should go. I have Business to attend to."

Natasha stood up, too, pouting. "You’re always working. You never spend time with me. We’re engaged, Dante. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other."

I walked to the edge of the gazebo

"I’ll see you at dinner," I said. "We can talk more then."

Natasha walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my back. "I love you, Dante. I know you don’t love me yet, but you will in time. I’ll make sure of it."

I didn’t respond.

I couldn’t because I didn’t love her. I would never love her. My heart belonged to someone else. Someone who was dead.

Someone who was buried.

Someone who would never come back.

I pulled away, walking down the steps of the gazebo.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

If I looked back, I would see her.

Natasha.

The woman who was supposed to be my future

The woman who would never be my present.

Emily.

She reminds me of Ariana.

Could it be here?

It couldn’t be her.

She was dead.

I had seen her casket.

I had watched them lower her into the ground.

She was gone.

She was never coming back, and I had to accept that.

I had to move on and live with it.

But God, it was hard.

She reminded me of Ariana, but she wasn’t Ariana; no one was Ariana.

No one could ever be Ariana.

And I had to accept that.

Even if it killed me.

Even if it destroyed me.