AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CAMILA
As I walk into the library, I get this odd sense that I’m being followed, an unsettling prickle at the nape of my neck. Glancing over my shoulder, I see no one there, just the stacks and the soft rustling of pages being turned.
“Keep it together, Camila,” I mutter to myself.
Lucia, Maeve, and Emily don’t understand why I spend so much time in the library. It’s my quiet place, my sanctuary. The place I can come to escape the constant buzz of the world and unwind, letting the tension seep from my shoulders. Anxiety has been something I’ve wrestled with most of my life, a constant companion that clings to me like a second skin. And being around people twenty-four-seven isn’t my idea of fun.
The library is supposed to be a quiet place where no one can speak to you, as long as the students follow the rules, a blessed respite from the chaos outside. However, on a few occasions, people have approached me, shattering the fragile peace I’ve found among the books.
I sit at my usual table in a far corner on the second floor and select a book, sighing as tension eases from my shoulders. The weight of the book in my hands grounds me.
I nestle into the groove of my chair, the worn leather cradling me like an old friend. The book’s spine gently cracks as I open it to the first chapter, the scent of aged paper and ink wafting up to greet me. The words blur before me, a symphony of letters that should be an escape, yet my mind buzzes with an unshakable feeling of being watched, a tingling awareness that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I try to focus on the page, to lose myself in the story, but my eyes betray me, flicking up and scanning the room, searching for the source of my unease.
A whisper of movement from between the shelves catches my eye. My heart does a staccato beat that echoes in my ears. No, it’s nothing—just the draft from an old vent, probably stirring the dust in the air. But then there he is, emerging from the stacks like a wraith.
Elio Barone stands there with his enigmatic presence. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says with a half-smile.
His voice is like a ripple in a still pond, disturbing my solitude in an unwelcome and electrifying way.
He steps closer, each footfall measured and sure, a predator stalking its prey. “May I?” He gestures to the seat opposite mine.
Despite every fiber of my being screaming for solitude, I nod. Elio’s proximity is a siren call I can’t seem to resist. Elio is breathtaking—those tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves add to his dark allure.
Why would someone like him want to talk to me, the quiet girl in the corner with her nose always buried in a book?
Elio sits, leaning forward with elbows on the table, bridging the distance between us as if he has every right to invade my space. I find myself momentarily lost in his gaze, drowning in the intensity of those gray eyes that seem to see right through me.
“So, what brings you to this corner of intellectual solitude?” he asks, his voice teasing.
“I could ask you the same,” I reply.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward as if he appreciates my retort and my boldness in the face of his intrusion.
“Maybe I’m here for the same reason you are,” he suggests, his tone almost conspiratorial. “To find some peace and quiet... though it seems I’ve failed at the latter.”
I can’t help but smile; his honesty is disarming, cutting through the layers of pretense and small talk. It’s as if he sees through my facade to the anxiety beneath, the restless energy that thrums through my veins.
“Peace and quiet are rare commodities these days,” I say, wanting to to prolong our moment of connection.
“Indeed.” He leans back in his chair, observing me with an intensity that should be unnerving yet feels thrilling. “But sometimes,” he continues, his voice a low rumble that resonates in my bones, “it’s worth sharing that quiet with someone else, someone who understands the value of silence.”
Our eyes lock and something unspoken crackles in the air between us, a current of electricity that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. The book lies forgotten on the table as Elio Barone—a man who should embody danger in every sense—flirts with me in my sanctuary. And for reasons I can’t fathom that excite and terrify me, I flirt back, drawn into his orbit like a moth to a flame.
A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. The tension I’d carried earlier melts away under Elio’s gaze, replaced by a different tension. “I guess solitude can be overrated.”
“Especially when there’s good company to be found,” he replies, his eyes never leaving mine.
I chuckle, a lightness bubbling inside me, a giddiness that feels foreign and exhilarating. “You consider yourself good company?”
“I have my moments.” His smirk is playful.
Our banter is interrupted by a sudden shadow that falls over our table, a looming presence that makes the air feel thick and heavy. Another man stands beside Elio, his beauty rivaling the man sitting before me, a dark mirror image that’s both familiar and unsettling. But where Elio’s presence is commanding yet somehow safe, this newcomer brings a chill along with his charm.
Elio’s face tightens ever so slightly as he looks at the man, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features before he smooths them into a mask of indifference. “Renzo, what are you doing here?”
The man—Renzo—flashes a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, a smile with sharp edges. “Can’t I chat with my brother?” he asks.
Brother.
