stranger & secret

| ARIANNA |

I woke up to the unfamiliar sensation of soft sheets against my skin. The scent of clean linen mixed with something deeper.. Masculine and expensive. Blinking against the soft morning light, I pushed myself up. My heart pounding the moment I realized this isn't my room.

Where the hell am I ?

My eyes darted around the space. A king-size bed. Dark wooden furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city skyline. It was sleek, modern, and completely foreign. Panic curled in my stomach. The last thing I remembered was the abandoned building, the pain, and then.. Nothing.

My breath hitched as I looked down at myself. Same clothes. Relief flickered for half a second before I touched my temple, wincing. There was a sharp sting beneath my fingertips. But when I traced the skin, I felt the soft press of a cotton pad, neatly secured with medical tape. Someone had taken care of me. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous.

A voice from outside the room made me freeze. Deep and low. A male voice.

I couldn't make out the words, but I heard the steady rhythm of conversation. I needed to find something. Anything to defend myself. Cause my gut doesn't feel right when I heard that noise.

My gaze swept the room. There was nothing obvious. No knife, no lamp, nothing heavy enough to use until my eyes landed on a glass paperweight on the bedside table. Not much, but it would do.

Moving silently, I grabbed it. Tightening my grip before inching toward the door. My pulse pounded as I slowly twisted the doorknob, pushing it open just enough to peek through.

There, I see a man sat on the couch, broad back facing me. Dark, slightly messy hair as if he had just woken up, Bare tanned skin. The muscles of his back shifting slightly as he leaned forward. Shirtless.

He was on the phone, his deep voice calm but firm.

"Yeah, I got the report. Still no trace of him?"

I stiffened. Who is he talking about?

"Dammit. He's covering his tracks too well. Keep watching the docks. If he tries to move anything, I want to know first."

My grip tightened on the paperweight. Docks? Tracking someone? Was he a cop? A criminal? Or worse?

I had to get out.

Taking careful steps, I moved toward him, ready to strike if I had to. But just as I got close enough, he moved too fast. Before I could react, he twisted and in a blur of movement, he spun around and grabbed me. The paperweight slipped from my grasp as he pinned me down onto the couch, twisting my arms behind my back.

"Let me go!" I thrashed against him, but his grip was like iron, his weight pressing me down, making it impossible to move.

"Stop." His voice was firm, but not cruel. Controlled.

I fought harder, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "Get off me!"

"I said stop," he snapped, his grip tightening before exhaling sharply. "Stop and listen to me. I found you injured and brought you here last night, okay."

His words barely registered. My body was still in fight mode, my mind screaming at me to get away.

His voice softened. "Come on, stop wiggling. You are safe. I'm not a bad guy. I'm not gonna hurt you."

I stiffened, my breath coming in sharp gasps. My pulse thundered in my ears. Was he lying?

His grip loosened slightly. A calculated move. Giving me the choice.

"Just.. breathe," he murmured. "You don't have to trust me. But if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have patched you up, would I?"

Hesitation creep in. He had a point.

"See?" he said quietly. "I'm letting go."

His hands released me slowly. But the moment I felt freedom, I kicked him back. He let out a low grunt and stumbling a step.

I scrambled to my feet, breathing hard. His gaze darkened slightly. But instead of grabbing me again, he just sighed and rolling his shoulders.

"Yeah," he muttered, "should've seen that coming."

"Who are you ?" I ask. My voice come out in a cold, sharp tone.

He exhaled, stretching his neck like he was shaking off the tension from earlier. Then, with an easy smirk, he said, "The man who just got kicked for saving your life."

I narrowed my eyes.

He touched his ribs, wincing dramatically. "You're welcome, by the way."

I didn't react. Didn't blink. Just stared. His smirk lingered as he let out a slow breath.

"Marcello Dante." His voice was steady and confident.

That name meant nothing to me. He tilted his head, studying me like he is waiting for recognition. When I didn't respond, he smirk wider. 

"And you are?" he prompted, crossing his arms.

I stayed silent. His smirk widened slightly.

"Ah. So we're playing that game." He nodded like he found that amusing.

I clenched my jaw. What the hell is wrong with this guy ? When I didn't speak, he sighed dramatically.

"Okay, mystery girl. Keep your secrets." He glanced toward the kitchen. "Coffee?"

I blinked. Did he seriously just offer me coffee ? I didn't answer. Just kept my icy glare locked on him. His smirk didn't fade.

"Right. Not a coffee drinker. Got it. Tea, then?" His voice come out almost playful that make my blood boil for a second.

I clenched my fists, "Why did you bring me here?"

Something flicker in his gaze, playful expression shifting just slightly.

"You were bleeding in an abandoned building," he said simply. "What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?"

"Yes," I said coldly.

His brow lifted. "Ouch. Harsh."

"What do you want from me?" I demanded. I just need an answer right now.

His smirk faded slightly, replaced with something more serious. "Nothing."

I studied him, waiting for the catch.

"You don't know me," I said slowly. "Yet you still helped me?"

He let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "Yeah, crazy concept, right? Some of us still have morals."

I wasn't sure if I believed him. But I did know one thing, Marcello Dante wasn't normal. And until I figured out what his game was, I wasn't letting my guard down.

"Let me get this straight," I said, folding my arms.

"You found a random, unconscious girl in an abandoned building, bleeding and instead of calling the cops or taking her to hospital, you thought, 'Hey, let's take her back to my penthouse.'" I pause looking at him in disbelief. 

He blink at me, unfazed. 

"Are you stupid ? Or just reckless ?"

Still. No reaction. No offense taken. Just that same irritating calm.

"You don't even know me," I continue sharply. "For all you know, I could have been a criminal, a murderer, or worse."

His lips twitched. "Worse than a murderer ? That's dramatic."

"You're an idiot."

He shrugged, utterly unaffected by my words. "So I've been told."

I exhale sharply, pressing my fingers softly to my temple to prevent my wound hurt again. I don't have time for this shit with this Dante boy.

Then it hit me. Domenico.

Shit.

He must be losing his fucking mind searching for me right now. I need to leave. Now.

Without looking at Marcello who is observing me entire time, I turn around to the door. 

"Where are you going ?" His voice come out gentle.

"None of your business."

He nod slowly, his expression unreadable. "Right. So, mystery girl, can you at least tell me your name ?"

"Not your business either." I said in sharp tone.

His smirk was barely there, but I caught it. "Huh. Thought so."

"Why were you in that abandoned building?" he asked again.

I hesitate. "Not. Your. Business."

He exhaled like I was exhausting him. "You say that a lot."

I reached the door, shoving my feet into my shoes as fast as possible. The sooner I got out of here, the better. I didn't trust this man. I didn't know who he was and why he helped me. Nothing about this situation made sense.

But as I yanked on the laces of my shoes, I caught movement from the corner of my eye.

Effortlessly, Marcello shrugged on a dark button-up, rolling the sleeves to his elbows like he had nowhere better to be. He didn't even bother fastening all the buttons. Then, in one smooth motion, he grabbed his car keys from the counter, spinning them once between his fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing?"

He tilted his head, amused. "Driving you home."

I stiffened. "I didn't ask for that."

He let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable. "No, you didn't. But let's be honest, you're in no condition to go anywhere by yourself."

I clenched my jaw. He's right. But I'm not easily let him. "I can take care of myself."

"Sure." His lips twitched, as if he found my defiance entertaining. "That explains why I found you unconscious in an abandoned building."

I bristled. "I don't owe you an explanation."

He sighed dramatically. "Of course not. And I don't have to drive you home either." He tossed his keys into the air and caught them. "But I am. So unless you have an actual reason to refuse, let's go."

I glared at him, but he didn't waver.

Why does he care? Why is he so annoyingly persistent?

I exhaled sharply. Fine. Let him try. I'll lose him the second we're outside.

But before I could take another step, his voice stopped me.

"You still haven't told me your name."

I didn't respond. I wouldn't. Why would I ? 

And yet, as walk out of his penthouse, I could feel his smirk burning into my back. He's enjoying this. And somehow, that irritated me more than anything else.

He follow me from behind and we both walk down to the parking lot. I look at him who jog toward his grey BMW. I roll my eyes.

As we get into the car, I told him the address. Lilith apartment address, cause why would I want him to drop me off at the mansion ? He would die right then and there if Domenico seen him. He smile playfully at me while drive off his penthouse parking lot. I make a cringe expression and the feel to just hit his head right then and there boil up inside me. 

The drive was silent. I kept my arms crossed, eyes fixed on the window while Marcello hummed absently to some song on the radio.

When the car finally pulled up in front of Lilith's apartment complex, I reached for the door handle, only to hear Marcello's voice again.

"I'll walk you to the door."

I froze, quickly turn my head to him. "What ? No."

Marcello raised a brow. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean, you can go back now."

He tilted his head, clearly amused. "You're acting like I'm about to meet your secret mafia family."

If only you knew.

I forced a sigh. "I don't need an escort. Just go home."

He studied me for a second, then shrugged. "Alright. But I should at least apologize to your parents."

I gripped the door handle tighter. "For what ?"

He sighed. "For basically kidnapping you for the night. Don't want them thinking I'm some kind of criminal."

My pulse kicked up, but I kept my expression unreadable. "They won't care."

Marcello blinked, probably expecting a different reaction.

I pushed open the door before he could say anything else. "Thanks for the ride."

I climbed out and slammed the door behind me. He didn't try to stop me. Good.

I stormed toward the apartment, shoving down the uncomfortable weight in my chest. I just need to get inside and make a call to Domenico. He must be fucking crazy right now. I didn't look back as I stepped inside.

Unaware of the small parchment that had slipped from my pocket onto the passenger seat.