CHIARA
Sitting at the kitchen island, I watch as Krista busily prepares a late lunch for Killian's business meeting this afternoon. I've been here for a little over a week, and so far, it's not as bad as I thought. I think.
Those first few days after Sergiu—which l've now learned is his name–visited me in my bedroom, I turned into a recluse. I didn't know how to feel about it or how to navigate it. My thighs were bruised, and one look from Killian would have told him exactly what he needed to know--that someone had put their hands on me, and I wasn't ready for that conversation. I believe every word that Sergiu said, that he will return with a vengeance if I so much as breathe even a single word of what happened in my bedroom that morning.
I've lived the last week in fear of his return, but as I've crept through the mansion, searching around every corner, I've seen no sight of him. Krista has mentioned in passing that he's here quite often, which turned my blood to ice.
