One minute, Rose had been sitting in her office, trying to talk about her hotel plans. The next, she was running after Malachi, trying to keep pace with him as he exited the building. And here she was now, her brain whirring as she tried to collect her thoughts, sitting in Malachi's car.

What the hell was happening?

Malachi was casually scrolling through his phone, looking up only to mention directions to his driver. He looked completely at ease, like there was nothing as comfortable as the dark leather seats of his car. Rose, on the other hand, looked like she was sitting on thorns. Her back was stick straight, her eyes fixed on the back of the seat before her. The car heater was clearly not up to snuff, if the goosebumps trailing up her arms were any indication.

"How do you know the way?"

Rose hadn't looked at him when she asked the question, her eyes still fixed on the dark leather. From the corner of her eye, she caught Malachi move, but she didn't dare turn her head.

"It's my job to know," he said, offering no further information.

"And why did we have to see it today? We could have scheduled it—"

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to keep tabs, Mrs. Price, but the project has just started, and we're already lagging behind." The barbed condescension in his voice finally made Rose turn, her eyes burning as she glared at him. He didn't seem to notice, or care. "I would rather not waste time idling away in an empty office," he added, before turning his gaze back towards his screen.

"You were never this rude."

Malachi raised an eyebrow, his eyes still on his phone. "Wasn't I?"

Rose didn't say anything else the rest of the way.

It took over an hour to drive down to the location, the entire drive rife with tense silence. Rose pointedly stared at the window, trying to hold on to the rage that was bubbling inside her. But, that proved to be rather difficult, especially as they rounded the corner to the property they were visiting. A few signs had been put up, boasting the Beaumont-Price name, but that was not what caught her eye. Behind the newly put up fence surrounding the property sat what must have in its day been a glorious garden. Even now, despite the overgrown trees and wild bushes, Rose could see how beautiful it must have been, how beautiful it would be. Before Malachi could say anything, Rose was out of the car.

She could hear the sound of gravel crunching under boots as Malachi joined her, standing quietly beside her to take in the place. It was quiet, but the silence didn't feel quite as tense anymore—not with the soft twittering of birds, the rustling of leaves, the crisp breeze.

The breeze.

It took Rose multiple seconds to realise that she was cold. It was the middle of winter, and she had, in her rush, forgotten her coat.

"Let's—let's hurry," she mumbled quickly, wrapping her arms around herself. Maybe if she kept moving, her blood wouldn't freeze in her veins. Malachi, however, made no attempt to move. Her brows scrunched up as she looked up at him, only to find him already looking at her.

"Forgot a sweater, Mrs. Price?"

Rose was too cold to be irritated by the smugness in his voice. "Well," she hissed, "it's your fault. You made me run out before I could collect my coat."

"Ah, what a travesty." He looked at her, before gesturing to the coat swung over his arms. "You can borrow mine."

Rose frowned. "No, thank you."

"I don't think your husband would be too pleased if I returned his brand new wife to him dying of hypothermia."

"I said I'm fine."

Malachi sighed. "Just take it. I'm wearing a blazer already, I don't need it."

Rose quietly weighed her options for a bit, and even though she knew she could find at least twenty-three different reasons to not take his coat, a timely gust of freezing wind that sent a shiver rattling straight into her bones made the choice clear. She averted her eyes and mutely extended her hand, palm outstretched. But, instead of handing her the coat, Malachi just stared at her palm, before looking away with a soft click of his tongue.

"What?" Rose snapped, snatching her hand back.

Malachi looked back at her, and for the first time, he didn't look smug, or cold. He looked disappointed.

"I cannot believe you still do that," he muttered, before thrusting the coat into her arms. "This place is old, God knows what infections are lurking around. Wait here, don't touch anything."

Rose blinked, holding the thick coat close against her chest before casting her eyes down at her palm. Thin red crescents marked the inside, the soft skin broken by her nails. She closed her palm into a fist quickly, before stuffing herself into Malachi's coat. Immediately, the warmth enveloped her, paired with the scent of him that was still so familiar. And, stupid as it was, Rose couldn't help but feel a small flutter in her chest.

He remembered.

"Here," his voice came, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Give me your palm."

She did as he asked, watching him silently as he grabbed a roll of bandages and some ointment from the small first aid box he had retrieved. Setting it on the hood of the car, he turned back to her, and took her hand. Rose held her breath, her traitorous heart thundering against her chest as he pushed back the coat sleeve, his fingers gently applying the cold ointment to her cuts. Each motion was like the stroke of a paintbrush, ever so careful, ever so deliberate. Her eyes travelled up, rushing past the scars that marked his arm to focus on his face. The dark waves of his hair fell over his face, hiding some of it. For all the lifetimes that had seemed to pass, Malachi looked just as she remembered, down to the curve of his eyelashes, and the arch of his nose. He caught a corner of his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrated, wrapping the soft bandage around her palm. Before she knew what she was doing, Rose's free hand had lifted up, seemingly possessed by a spirit.

Malachi went rigid as Rose's eyes widened, staring in horror at her fingers that were now in his hair.

In half a breath he was gone, his face turned away from her.

"I trust you can finish bandaging yourself, Mrs. Price," he muttered, before taking off, walking past the fence and onto the overgrown cobblestone path. "Join me once you're done."

Despite the warmth of his coat, Rose felt colder than she ever had before.

-🥀-

It took a long walk for the thicket around the property to slowly give way, but it did nothing to fade the raging shade of red Rose's face wore. She had tucked her hands into the sleeves of the coat he had given her, hiding her bandaged hands—out of shame or cold, she herself wasn't sure. Bundled into the much larger coat, Rose finally stepped off the rough pathway and onto the first time-worn stair of the porch. She tilted her face up, finally allowing herself a reprieve from her thoughts to take in the manor before her.

None of the broken windows or graffiti could hide the sheer majesty of the house.

The house loomed regal, a monarch of a kingdom long forgotten. Its stones were worn, the walls overgrown with ivy. As she stepped past the door, she could smell the musty scent of rotting wood. And yet, it was beautiful. Three stories tall, with more windows and doors than she could count, this was grander than any modern hotel she had ever walked into. If she squinted enough, she could see the sunlight streaming in morph into the gilded light of a magnificent chandelier. She could hear the soft notes of a piano playing, could feel the rustle of silken ballgowns as ghosts of the past danced past her.

"I know." Malachi's voice was soft, and as she looked up to see him standing on the spiraling staircase, she could see him, too. Not the cruel, cold man wearing his face that had stepped into her life that day, but him. The boy who knew her, knew her every thought, her every dream.

"You see it too, right?" She whispered as she walked towards him, each footstep echoing against the stone of the house.

"I do." Malachi stepped off the staircase, the blue of his eyes glimmering as an errant ray of sunlight kissed his face. "I can see it, and it's beautiful."