Chapter 2 My Aunt's Villa

Olivia The tall hedges that surrounded the property reminded me of the days I would spend with my childhood best friends, Nathan and Alvin, as we would play hide and seek amongst the thick branches. The cupolas on either side of the house reminded me of how we would climb up there against my aunt’s wishes so we could look at the birds’ nests, and how we would get a good scolding from my aunt afterwards. Inside, I could see a light on upstairs in my aunt’s bedroom. Seeing that light filled me with a bit of warmth, and I paused for a moment to look up at it with a smile on my face. “Olivia?” a somewhat familiar voice suddenly said. It sounded different, gruffer, but I still recognized it immediately. I spun around to see my aunt’s gardener, an old man named Clint, standing behind me in his wool sweater and worn overalls. “Clint,” I said with a smile. The gardener, who was getting on in years now, walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. He had a limp now, which he didn’t have before. “Your leg…” I muttered, pointing. The old gardener shrugged. “Arthritis,” he said. “They weren’t lying when they said that getting old ain’t for the faint of heart. Anyway… You’re back in the pack now, huh?” I nodded. “My eviction order was lifted,” I said. “But I don’t have anywhere to go. I hope my aunt will let me stay here until I get back on my feet.” Suddenly, Clint’s eyes went from smiling to full of sorrow. “You haven’t heard?” he asked quietly. I shook my head and scrunched my nose. “No. Haven’t heard what?” “Your aunt died six months ago,” he said. “In her sleep.” At that moment, I felt my heart sink and absolutely shatter at the bottom of my stomach. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out other than a strained squeak of pain. Sure, my aunt and I didn’t have the best relationship, but she was all I had left now. But now, it seemed as though I really had no one. Before anything could be said, I stumbled forward and threw my arms around the old gardener. He stiffened for a moment before he wrapped his arms around me and let me cry into his shoulder for several minutes. When no more tears would come, I stepped back and wiped my nose with my hand. “Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s just…” Clint shook his head. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a sealed envelope, then handed it to me. “I’ve been keeping it with me in case you show up. Your aunt asked me to make sure that no one opens it except for you.” I took the envelope, still scrunching my nose as I blinked back tears. But when I opened the envelope, that look of despair turned into one of surprise. It was a deed to the house with my name on it, along with a key. After all these years, my aunt had left her villa to me. I was stunned. “R-Really?” I whispered, looking up at the gardener with tears in my eyes. He nodded, and smiled slightly through his thick mustache. “Yep,” he replied. “I don't know what's there. But that was the blessing your aunt left you.” My eyes were wide as I looked up at the old villa. As if I was in a trance, I slowly walked up to the front door and put the key into the lock. I turned it and heard the satisfying click before I swung the door open and looked into the place of old memories and new beginnings. As I walked in and flicked on the light, a gasp caught in my through. It looked perfect, as though it had been renovated. I guessed that my aunt must have fixed it up before she died, which was confusing considering the fact that she was always so particular about the style of the house. Before, it was rather outdated and now, it was fully outfitted with modern appliances, freshly painted walls, and even the old, rattley windows had been replaced. “Clint—” I turned around, but he was gone. I was alone now in this house, but I didn’t mind. As I slowly walked in, still in shock, I ran my hands along the wooden table in the dining room. I peered into the old living room to see that it was outfitted with all new furniture, although my aunt’s old rocking chair still sat in the corner. Just seeing it brought more tears to my eyes as I imagined her still sitting there, her knitting needles clicking together furiously as she listened to the radio. The radio was still there, too. I headed upstairs next. The stairs still creaked as I walked up them, but it was like music to my ears. I trailed my fingers along the wall as I slowly walked down the hallway, and finally stopped in front of my aunt’s old bedroom. The light was left on; maybe Clint was cleaning and forgot to turn it off. The door was closed, but I could see the light spilling out from underneath the door. I couldn’t bring myself to open it — I couldn’t bring myself just yet to look into the room where my aunt used to sleep, and where she died. Not yet. I headed to the guest bedroom next, where the bed was freshly made with crisp white sheets and one of my aunt’s handmade quilts. The room was much more airy now, with light white curtains in the windows and lace throw pillows on the bed. It was a far cry from the way that my aunt used to keep it decorated, but I liked it. As I threw myself down on the bed, I let out a loud, bittersweet sigh. I wished that I could have talked to my aunt one last time… But the fact that she left her villa to me filled my heart with warmth. After all these years, I was just excited to start over fresh within the walls of my aunt’s villa that looked over the sea. … The morning sun was shining through my window when I woke up the next morning. But honestly, I could have slept longer if it weren’t for the fact that I could hear voices coming from downstairs. Did someone break in while I was sleeping? I quickly sat up, furrowing my brow as I tried to remember if I had locked the doors before I went to bed, but I knew that I did it. I was always so careful with those sorts of things. Maybe it was Clint or someone else, but either way, I grabbed my small folding knife out of my bag and slipped it into the sleeve of my sweatshirt before I slowly made my way down the stairs. With each step, the voices became clearer. And none of them sounded like Clint. “I’m thinking that we should convert this into a nice set of French doors,” a male voice said. “My fiancee likes to have her morning tea and do her yoga outside, so I think she’d like a nice patio area for that…” I swallowed, confused. French doors? Fiancee? What were they talking about? This was my house now— surely they had the wrong house. Suddenly, as I was slowly making my way down the stairs, my sock slipped on the wood and I found myself tumbling down the last few steps. I fell to the floor with a bang and a groan, and my pocket knife fell out of my sleeve and slid across the floor, right toward the location of the voices. There was a brief silence, followed by the same male voice. “Who’s there? Stay where you are!” the voice said. I scrambled to my feet, cursing under my breath, as I heard hurried footsteps approaching. Suddenly, I came face to face with my childhood friend, Nathan— the new Alpha of my pack. He was much older now, more handsome and no longer the awkward teenage boy that I remembered. As he looked at me, his square jaw and Cupid’s bow lips were lit from one side by the morning sun shining in through the window, and I couldn’t deny the fact that my heart melted a little just looking at him. His eyes widened as he saw me. Slowly, and without a word, he took three steps toward me. The smell of grapefruit salt on his skin floated across the air toward me, further bombarding my senses. There was a flash of bewilderment in my childhood friend’s eyes, followed by what looked like surprise. But there was something else there, too. Was it a hint of irony that I saw in my childhood friend’s eyes? Why was Nathan in my villa? There was something strange about my childhood friend’s demeanor as he stared at me. I could feel it. “Olivia?” Nathan asked, taking another step forward. The smell of grapefruit salt on his skin became even stronger now that he stood closer to me. “Why are you here?”