The numbers ten and thirty were displayed on the screen of my phone attached to the car phone mount, The Rolling Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil croons on a low volume by the speaker. It was drizzling rain when I left Coffee Hut, but the weather had been kinder as soon as I exited the freeway.
Because the road was wet with rain and my tires hadn’t been exactly in good condition, I was driving at a snail’s pace. At this rate, I will reach the Vitale estate before midnight, hopefully. The constant uphill and the lack of street lights, or any source of light for that matter, made this trip somewhat melancholic.
All my GMC’s headlight spots through the curves of the taxing road were tree after tree. It’s like driving through endless darkness. If the town proper was quiet, this place was eerie.
Luckily for me, road signs indicate how close I’m getting to my destination. I’ve been watching for those, like eyeing a suspect I’m hunting. It’s the only sane thing I could do while the song changed to The Beatles’ Don’t Let Me Down.
When I lost a bet at that stupid football game, Eloisa made this playlist for me back in college. I will not admit this to her, but I fell in love with her choice of music, so even until now, it’s been my go-to road trip jam.
Yep. This is a road trip—a sudden one.
A breathy sigh slipped past my lips when I saw the sign saying I was entering private property. I’m finally at Vitale Estate. This Mr. Valentin is a hard man to find. I wonder if his friends spend this much effort if he invites them for brunch.
I took the left turn, following the road sign’s instructions, leading me to a narrow dirt road nestled between nothing but bleakness.
I decelerate my already slow speed with additional caution, since I’m only following the dirt path. It looks like I’m entering an untouched territory, hidden in the mountains far from civilization, until I reach an arch made of stones. It has the words Welcome to Vitale Estate with a six-pointed star in the middle.
I can’t help but remember the same symbol engraved on Rivera’s forehead. And also, I kept seeing the symbol in my dreams. Glimpse after glimpse like an endless loop for the past nights.
Shaking my head, I cleared my thoughts as lampposts lit the road. Glad that I finally found a sign of civilization.
The road I’m driving on now was void of the imposing trees. There seemed to be an empty field on each side of the road, and to my utter surprise, I could see the twinkling stars from my vantage point.
Huh.
This was the first time I saw a clear sky in this town. It’s usually cloudy even in daylight.
I followed the street lights, which led me to a gated mansion manned by two stone-carved lions on each side. Surprisingly wide open, the sky-high gate was lit up by pale yellow fence light. Driving to the roundabout, I was in awe at how stunning the mansion was. There are probably fifteen or so bedrooms in this three-story building, if my calculation is correct.
It has a welcoming ambiance, even with its historical-looking architecture. It mirrors one of the houses Eloisa, and I saw when we went on vacation to Italy, made of grey stone walls adorned with spacious balconies and loggias.
I stepped out of my car, still star-struck that the estate rumored haunted by the townsfolk of Salvatore Hills was as picturesque as this. The aesthetic of this house is a work of art.
I climbed up the double stairwell leading to the expansive porch. Nestled between two massive pillars was an oakwood double door. Eyes still admiring the arts carved on the stones, I reached for the lion’s head with a ring trapped in its closed mouth, attached to the door, knocking three times.
About a minute passed, and I knocked again when no one answered. Silent footsteps echoed soon from the other side of the door. Awareness washed over me at the loud ringing of my heartbeat in anticipation of seeing Mr. Valentin.
It’s not him, although I was still stunned at how attractive the man was. I’d put him around the same height as Mr. Valentin with brown catlike eyes. It was a no-brainer that I woke up the man, still in his white shirt, grey pyjama pants topped with a thick black robe open in the middle. His salt and pepper hair pointed in all directions, sleep etched in his face.
If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it.
“Can I help you?” he had that sweet English accent that made me feel like I was standing in the door of some royalty.
I swallowed hard, keeping my hands to my side, clenching. “I apologise for coming here unannounced, but I was wondering if Mr. Valentin is home.”
Beneath his long lashes, he regarded me with a blank stare. “You are?”
I pulled out one of my cards tucked in my wallet and handed it to him, introducing myself in the process.
He studied the card with furrowed brows, lips pursed in a thin line. “Detective Grayson, is this an official visit? Can I ask what trouble he got himself into?”
“Oh, no. We bumped into each other in town, and I believe he has my journal.”
The man, who I haven’t gotten the name yet, tilted his head to the side. “You drive all the way here in the middle of the night for a journal?”
I sighed, closing my eyes to compose myself. It’s been an eventful week, and being on the other side of interrogation is not something I’m fond of. “It has everything I have on a case.”
He hummed, head bobbing once, eyes assessing me. “He’s not home, Detective.” A slow, mischievous smile stretched his lips. “But you can come in. It’s cold, and I have this house all to myself.”
Not home? The side of my eyes twitched in anger. I drove here for almost two hours only to find out that he wasn’t home and why did this jerk ask me all those questions?
Well, it’s not anyone’s fault I am here, so I have no right to be mad at all.
Even if my patience was hitting rock bottom, I still managed to be civil and told him I’d be waiting for Mr. Valentin’s call. I thanked him for his time and took the road back to town again.
~~
I went to Seattle on Saturday and spent the night at my parents’ place, waiting for Mr. Valentin’s call, but none came. I’m wondering if the annoying jerk gave my number to him or not. If he still wouldn’t make contact with me on Monday, I’ll probably drive back to that mansion to follow up.
With my eyes trained on watching the bubbling lavender soap spun inside the washing machine on Sunday morning, my phone rang with a call from an unknown number. I hesitated for a second, heart hammering inside my chest before swiping the receive call icon.
“Rory Grayson,” I answered, breathless. Why the heck am I breathless? I was just sitting here in the laundry room, listening to the machine wedge on the wall as it hummed and did its purpose.
“Good morning,” the deep voice on the other line said. I don’t know how it’s possible, but my heart gained more speed, pulse accelerating at recognition. “This is Eli Valentin. You were looking for me?”
Eli? He doesn’t look like an ‘Eli.’ Why do I even care?
I chewed on my lip, on my feet now, pacing the laundry room. Glad that I was alone, or they’d probably think there’s an emergency at work. “Uhm, yes… I was. I bumped into you last Friday at the Coffee Hut.”
He made a silent hum. “You ran away from me.”
I halted on my steps. “Excuse me?”
If I’m not mistaken, I could hear a smile while he spoke. “You asked me if I was the man in your dreams, and then you ran off. Am I correct?”
My skin prickled with flames of mortification. And here I thought he wouldn’t make fun of me.
“I was having an awful week.” Explaining my side to him is not my obligation, but I felt the need to protect my dignity.
He hummed once again. “I got your journal. Is that the only reason you’re looking for me, or do you have more questions?”
My eyes narrowed to slits at the teasing tone in his voice, just in time for the washing machine to beep that it’s done with the wash time.
“I need my journal. Can we meet somewhere, or can I come to you if you are busy?”
“I’m in Italy for business, and I won’t be back until Friday.”
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath. Apparently, he heard me because he chuckled. The sound was so deep and sensual I wondered if his grey eyes squinted the same way they did in the cafe. “Sorry.” I sighed, taking a seat on the waiting bench, rubbing my temple.
“It’s alright. I asked the cashier if she knew you, but she told me you’re new in town.”
“Yeah, just moved in, and I’m still getting used to living alone.”
“I understand. That must be hard.”
“A bit, yeah…” and it suddenly hit me. I’m making a conversation with a man I barely knew over the phone about what I feel.
“It’ll get better. Don’t worry, I didn’t read your journal. It’s also the reason I kept it instead of leaving it there with the staff by the café.”
“Why not? Most people would.”
“I’m not most people.” No, you’re not. It’s puzzling that you have the same voice as the man in my dreams, I wanted to say, but decided against it - wouldn’t want to sound even weirder than I already feel. “Tell you what. When I get back, I’ll show you around town.”
“Are you asking me out?” I pressed a hand over my mouth, realising I was flirting with a man I knew nothing apart from his name and the fact that he’s gorgeous.
“Yes.”
I can’t deny the fact that my curiosity is killing me. This silly part of me wanted to say yes, find out if he was indeed the man in my dreams and why I was dreaming about him in the first place. I don’t know him. If I did, I would surely remember him, so I said, “I’ll think about it, Mr. Valentin.”
“Eli. Please call me Eli, Aurora.”
“It’s Rory, Eli.”
A pause took its toll before he said, “I’ll see you soon, Rory,” making my heart skip beats.
I have to give it to Paul. He just wouldn’t give up on trying to win me over. His perseverance is commendable but sadly for him, I have no intentions of coming back in the arms of someone who treated my heart like a piece of trash. It’s still there, my feelings for him. I cannot deny that to myself, but it’s not right. It’s already affecting our work and somehow, I’m glad that I’m paired up with a partner with oozing confidence in his abilities - barely. “Officer Miller,” I called my partner from his desk on Wednesday morning. His green eyes narrowed to slit, lips pressed into a thin line while he stood from his desk. He’s mad at me and his feelings are valid. I put him on paperworks for Rivera’s case for valid reasons. He passed out at seeing a dead body crying out
“What the hell are you wearing?” Eloisa’s voice echoed from the open screen of my laptop.I should’ve known that telling her about Eli’s invitation was a mistake. The moment I hit the send button on my reply to her question on what I’m doing tonight, f’acetime won’t stop notifying me about her call. I gave in and answered her call, already dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks.The clothes I was wearing were very unflattering, and it looked as though I was going to interview a suspect rather than going to dinner with that gorgeous Italian. It’s one thing I have to be sure of - if he’s Italian - but the accent gives it away already.“What?” I said exasperated. Even with my side facing Eloisa while I check if I tucked in the dress shirt
There’s a sudden dark cloud looming over our once kind of romantic dinner. Elijah’s lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes trained on me. His hold on his glass was so tight it seemed that it’ll break any moment now. From the folded sleeves of his flannel shirt, I got a glimpse of how the veins in his arms were popping out. “Elijah.” I tried to say his name, and it felt like everything fell in its right place. Me and him, staring at each other. I’m losing myself in his eyes. They’re so expressive, as if they’re telling me something he couldn’t say in words. Everything around me became trivial, the noise of the people ordering drinks in the bar; the couple arguing about where to go on their summer vacation by the booth next to us; they all faded in the background. I
If anyone would tell me how deranged I became, I wouldn’t argue with them.The hypothetical question-and-answer Elijah and I had were certainly not intended to produce a hypothesis. He asked. I answered, less the hypothetical words.I sighed, hands trembling while I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering how I even thought that this place was bigger for one person in the first place.Elijah, peering at my endless stack of books on the shelf, made the living area look smaller than it actually is. He blends in perfectly on the beach-inspired decoration I managed to put up little by little.I’ve always wanted to live close to the beach. That’s the reason for the white and blue drapes around the apartment. The dark bl
~Every life has its essence. Every sacrifice has its gain. Every death has its purpose~ Thank you for reaching this far on the story ;)I’d like to introduce my books before HELLBOUND if it’s your first time stumbling upon my work. COMPLETED1|Devin ~ CEO/Billionaire Romance2|Don’s Fiancée ~ Mafia Romance3|Promise Me Jake ~ Teen Romance [A sad love story.]4|Evan ~ CEO/Billionaire Romance [Devin’s spin-off, but it can be read as standalone]5|Falling For My Husband ~ Mafia Romance6| A Game With No Rules ~ Mafia Romance7| HellBound: The Last Tribute ~ Fantasy/Mystery Romance Lastly, this novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Don't forget to follow me on lnstagram Castiel.Lj.xx12.19.21
The dipping sun’s burst of orange, yellow and red pigment in the western clearing reflected on the calm waters of Lake Salvatore.On the other side of the lake, where the water meets the bank, fescue and ryegrass grew in abundance, green and full of life, gently swaying as the wind swept by. As the stretch of the grass field ends, the treeline begins. Towering trees loomed over the forest grounds. Movements from pygmy rabbits, squirrels, and deers echoed with the cacophony of the twittering birds and insects.The water moved in small waves, crashing on the bank closer to where I stood. Warm air, telling me Silver eyes were watching in the distance, caressed my skin ever so softly.I closed my eyes, inhaling the cedarwood scent fused in the air, smiling at the stillness and fire that slowly ignited within my ch
I’ve witnessed countless deaths in all forms and manners. Some were untold to the public, sugar-coated to avoid stirring chaos and panic in their everyday lives.The entire town mourned Corina’s death. A vigil was held in the town square. Everyone, including Mayor Davis Howard, gathered together in memory of Corina Parker.Her family and friends created a board where they wrote farewells and goodbyes in colorful papers, unspoken words they couldn’t say when Corina was still alive. The words ‘farewell Corina’ were written in bold letters above the thousand little notes. Flowers were overflowing everywhere. Red roses, which I learned were Corina’s favorite, filled the air with a scent that haggles between sweet, fruity, and minty.Even the night seemed to mourn with the entire Salva
Elijah once again turned my apartment into a claustrophobic place - the good kind, if that even makes sense. I’m tucked in the couch, a white woven blanket around me, while Elijah forages through my kitchen.Upon my request, he drove me home and refused to leave, telling me I was in some kind of shock and something of the same scenario might happen again.I doubt it. The only possibility I see is me drowning in the dark nightmares just like every night.Just when I’m starting to accept my fate of having such horrid dreams, now I’m faced with another reality I should accept. Is it really the man in dreams I saw in the square, or was I just hallucinating? But I’m certain it was him. I’ll never forget the shape of his face, that nose, and that wicked smile.