WHISPERS OF LOVE

3.Emma

🎧 Listen to🎵 Breaking Free by Night Riots 🎶

***

I've been kidnapped.

Someone with a brain can clearly see that, but it took me a while to do so. That showcases how dumb I can be.

A few seconds have passed since I discovered the guy's presence in the room. I'm not sure if he just came in or if he was in the room all along. I stopped screaming, seeing as I'm only exhausting the little to no strength that I have.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the hazel-eyed stranger says, and I scoff.

This is absurd. He is absurd.

"I'm telling you the truth," he says, seeing that I don't believe him.

"I would never hurt you," he adds in a hushed tone, making me calm down, but just a little.

We both go quiet for what seems to be hours. I look into the stranger's eyes; his facial expression seems genuine, and for a fraction of a minute, I find myself believing that he won't hurt me.

"W-Where am I?" I stutter.

"We are home," he says as if that's the most sane thing ever.

My eyes widened in shock and confusion as I take in the unfamiliar room around me. I had just woken up from a disorienting slumber, and the reality of my situation begins to sink in. The room was tastefully decorated, and everything seemed meticulously chosen-for me.

Me.

Did he actually think I'm going to stay? Me?!

I'm angry, I'm mad, I'm all kinds of crazy, but I can't seem to do anything when he's staring at me that way-with those eyes that seem to draw me to him.

Hazel eyes clear his throat, ready to tell me something, but I beat him to it.

"Who are you, and where am I?" I ask.

Hazel eyes sighs, recognizing the disorientation in my eyes. He seems defeated.

"I owe you an explanation," he starts by saying, and I'm more drawn into him.

"My name is Maximilian Goldstein. You can call me Max. The Goldstein & Co. auction house, this estate-it's all part of my family's legacy."

My expression shifts from confusion to disbelief.

"Goldstein? As in, the wealthy Goldstein family?"

Max nods, gauging my reaction carefully. He doesn't seem shaken by my reaction to who he is, showing me he's used to it.

"Yes, that Goldstein," he says.

I watch him watch me, thinking I'm going to say something, but I don't.

"I brought you here because your art, Emma, spoke to me in a way that transcends the boundaries of wealth and privilege."

I listen to him, but deep inside my brain, I'm still processing the information.

"Why am I here? What do you want from me?"

Max takes a step forward.

"It's not about wanting anything from you. Your art, your resilience-it resonated with me. I wanted to provide you with a space where your talents could flourish without the weight of life's hardships."

Does he know how crazy he sounds?

My eyes dart around the room.

"This place, these things... it's too much. I don't belong here," I say to him.

Max sighs, nods his head in agreement, and gazes at me sincerely.

"I might have misjudged what you needed, and for that, I apologize. I just wanted to offer you an opportunity, a canvas to paint your dreams without the constraints of your past."

Standing in the center of this opulent room that felt both foreign and intrusive, grappling with the reality of my unexpected journey into Max Goldstein's world, I knew I had to get away from him as soon as possible.

It was clearly visible that we were two individuals from vastly different worlds.

Just then and there, my chest starts to tighten as Max's words hung in the air.

The weight of the revelation bore down on me, and a surge of anger ignited within me. Where on this earth did he get the audacity to forcefully insert himself into my life, manipulating my surroundings, and claiming it was for my own good?

"What the hell is wrong with you?" My voice trembled with a mix of anger and disbelief. "You bring me here, mess with my life, and expect me to be grateful?"

"Emma, I just wanted to give you a chance to-" Max tries to explain himself, realizing the impact of his vast decision but I don't let him.

I cut him off, my frustration boiling over. "A chance? You think throwing me into this fancy prison is giving me a chance? I never asked for your help, and I certainly don't need it!"

Tears well up in my eyes as I continue, my voice strained.

"You've invaded my privacy, messed with everything I know, and for what? Because you like my art? Is that your twisted way of helping someone?"

Max takes in a deep breath, his face full of remorse and a desire to understand, reaches out to me.

"Emma, please, I thought-"

"Don't touch me!" I recoil, my eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right to play the savior with my life!"

"I want out of here. I want my life back. You have no right to decide what's best for me!" I say, my hands shaking with the intensity of my emotions.

Fueled by anger and determination, I stand straight and take my ground.

"Open the damn door. I'm leaving." I declare, but that seems to have no effect on him.

I walk past him towards the door, hoping he left it open as he walked in. As I reached for the doorknob, Max's hand gently rested on mine.

In that moment, a subtle yet undeniable surge of energy passed between us, creating a connection that transcended the physical touch. It felt like a wave of electricity, awakening something profound within both of us.

The atmosphere shifted, and I couldn't ignore the strange but undeniable sensation that we were linked in a way that defied explanation. Startled, I pull my hand away, not because of reluctance but due to the unexpected intensity of the connection, leaving us both standing there, grappling with the unspoken currents that lingered in the air.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, turning to face Max, seeking answers in his hazel eyes.

All he does is shrug, wearing a knowing expression, as if this unusual occurrence was something he had anticipated.

Was this a sick joke, or was fate playing a game of chance ?