Claimed by The Rogue Alpha
Claimed By The Rogue Alpha Chapter 15

==Matteo==

I was there. Again. Surrounded by nothing but darkness. Just like the previous time, I couldn't move. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how much effort I put in doing so. My lips were sealed, only opening up moments later and just in time for me to say, "Anyone here?" I got no response. Again. I cursed. What a fool I was. Of course, I'd been stuck in this limbo to know what the drill was. So, I waited.

It wasn't long before she appeared.

Angela De La Crux, as she had told me. Donning a dazzling white gown, she drew close to me till it was just a foot that separated us. "Could this stop?" I said before she speak. I knew just what she wanted to say. "Who are you and what the f**k do you want from me?"

She smiled, irking me more. "You've made so many mistakes in your past, Matteo. Don't you think it's time to make corrections?"

It wasn't in me to roll my eyes. But at this point, I could care less about habits. "And who do you think you are to tell me that?"

She was silent for a moment. "I've told you. You know who I am."

I couldn't help but scoff. "So I'm to believe that you are my..." I stopped myself. There was no point. "Listen, if you don't let me be, you're going to have a lot of regrets."

"Wow." Her tone as flat as ever. "Who would have thought someone can cause the almighty Matteo Roberto-Macini such amount of distress?"

Her smile surfaced again. "Oh, I know. The species considered as weak."

My patience was hanging on a thin thread. Sinner than later, it would snap and this lady-whoever she was-wouldn't replace it funny.

I found speaking instead. "What's your point?"

She held that gaze of hers. Looking straight into my eyes. "You've found her."

"Excuse me?"

"You've found her, Matteo. But you're too proud to admit it."

"Okay, you better start talking sense right now. I've not got all day to waste."

"Oh, but you do because in this realm, there's no boss," she said. "Listen, Matteo. There are a lot of mistakes that can be avoided. One of such is this one. I warned you. I've warned you."

I tried to speak, but couldn't part my lips. Great, they had been sealed again. Paralysed, I watched her fade into the darkness. And just like before, a waft of frangipani filtered into my nose. Gradually, the darkness receded, bringing me face to face with a cream coloured wall. Wait a minute... I squinted at this said wall, only for me to notice it was my ceiling. The chandelier blinking at me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them. F**k. It was a dream. That weird dream again. I grunted as I rose to lean on the bedhead. The dream... Why did I keep having it? What did any of these mean?

I rubbed my temple. This was beginning to constitute a nuisance. I hated it. But no, I wouldn't bother brood over it. I wouldn't bother to try to remember what had happened. I had done those but was still left with unanswered questions.

I had to blame it on something else. The dreams. Maybe I'd been stressed out. Maybe I should eat healthier and try to stay away from meat.

Glancing at the wall clock, I realised it was exactly 3 in the afternoon. I yawned, then did a little stretch. Lunch was in five minutes. I got ready and went to the dinning room.

As the meal was served, my mind wandered off, back to the dream earlier. This time I couldn't shake it off. Angela De La Crux...is that even a real person? Of course not. It was a lady from my imagination. But then the dreams were livid. It was almost as if it was real. You've found her. What did that even mean? And then the scent of frangipani? What could I make out of this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All I could say was that I loved that flower a lot. I used to have a pot beside my bed. But that was years ago, at least 10 years. And I hadn't come in contact with it. It wasn't planted anywhere in the mansion, nor did I have an artificial make of it. No, because the mansion wasn't meant for ornamentals. So how could I possibly be scenting such?

My butler poured in sparkling wine into my glass. I watched the bubbles rise.

"Has she had anything to eat today?" I asked the maid who was laying the cutlery, without making eye contact with her.

"The slave, sir?"

I was forced to look up. And as she saw my glare, she looked away. "I'm sorry, sir."

Her apology made me question why I had gotten angry. The fact that she used the term 'slave'? Well, technically, Oliva Haynes was a slave. But then, I and I alone was meant to call her that. "You haven't answered my question."

"I'm afraid, no, sir. She wouldn't touch any-"

"Send for her." I told me butler this time. Miss Haynes and I were going to have a lengthy discussion. And should she refuse to come, goddammit, I would drag her myself.