Two weeks had passed since we arrived at Silas's countryside home. Time moved differently here. It's slower, more deliberate—as if we existed in our own little world, untethered from the demands of the life we'd left behind.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the kitchen as I crept toward Silas, who stood with his back to me, concentrated on stirring a pot of strawberry jam. The sweet aroma filled the air, mingling with the scent of herbs hanging from the wooden beams above. Yesterday's strawberry harvest had been particularly bountiful, and Silas had insisted on preserving them 'the proper way,' as he called it.
I held my breath, carefully placing each foot to avoid the creaky floorboard near the center of the room. Just as I was about to reach him, without turning around, he spoke in that low, melodious voice that never failed to send a pleasant shiver down my spine.
"I should warn you that there isn't a ticklish spot on my body."
I stopped mid-step. My mouth fell open slightly. "How do you always know?"
He turned toward me then, wooden spoon in hand, and a smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark hair fell across his forehead in that way that made my heart flutter despite my best efforts to remain composed. Two weeks of seeing that face every day, and still, the effect hadn't diminished.
"I'm your butler, remember? Trained to sense even the slightest change in a room." His eyes held mine as he set the spoon down and wiped his hands on a dish towel. "Would you like some strawberry pie for dessert tonight? I thought it would pair nicely with the jam."
"I'd love that," I replied, straightening my posture and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
He crossed the space between us in three easy strides and wrapped his arms around me. The familiar scent of him enveloped me as I relaxed into his embrace. For a moment, we simply stood there, his heartbeat steady against my cheek.
Then I felt his fingers shift slightly at my sides.
"Don't you dare—" I began, but it was too late.
His hands found the sensitive spot just beneath my ribs, and I dissolved into uncontrollable laughter, squirming in his arms as he continued his merciless assault.
"Silas!" I gasped between fits of giggles, "Not fair—you knew—all along—"
"All's fair," he murmured against my hair, not relenting as I half-heartedly tried to escape.
The shrill ring of the telephone cut through our moment, echoing from the living room. Silas paused, his hands stilling at my sides as we both turned toward the sound.
"Expecting a call?" he asked.
I shook my head, still catching my breath. I wiped away the tears of laughter that had formed at the corners of my eyes. "No one knows we're here except..."
Silas released me gently. "I'll get it."
As he left the kitchen, I found myself drawn to the window. The sun had nearly set, casting the garden in deep blues and purples. I was about to turn away when movement caught my eye. There's a figure standing just beyond the garden gate, partially obscured by the gathering darkness.
My smile faded as I squinted, trying to make out details. The tall, broad-shouldered silhouette was unmistakable, even in the dim light. The straight posture and the way he held his head—I'd recognize that bearing anywhere.
My grandfather.
A flutter of confusion swept through me. He knew we were here, of course. He was the one who had arranged everything, who had insisted I leave the city with Silas for my own protection. But he had been adamant that no contact was to be made until it was safe. So why was he here now?
I unlatched the window, about to call out to him, when Silas returned to the kitchen. The warmth that had filled his expression minutes ago had vanished, replaced by something that made my stomach twist—concern, urgency, perhaps even fear.
"Aurora." His voice was controlled but tight. "That was the Chairman's secretary on the phone."
My hand froze on the window latch. "What about my grandfather?"
"He's missing."
The words hung in the air between us, incomprehensible at first. I immediately turned back to the window, eyes searching the darkness where the figure had stood just moments before.
He's gone. The space by the garden gate was empty.
"Missing? That's impossible." I pressed my palms against the cool glass. "He was just there. I saw him standing outside."
Silas crossed the room in quick strides, joining me at the window. His eyes scanned the darkened garden, one hand coming to rest protectively at the small of my back.
"The call was to inform us that they've launched a formal search."
I stared at the empty space where I'd seen the figure, doubt creeping in. Had the fading light played tricks on my eyes?
"Then who was that outside our window?" I whispered, more to myself than to Silas.