Crimson || Tom Riddle

𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

Arabella sped around her manor like a madwoman. She used her super speed to turn each room she entered upside down, to cover an entire floor in a matter of seconds. But her ring was nowhere.

Arabella hadn't took Tom to bed solely for the thrill. No, she'd let herself sink into him because it was the fastest way to make sure he didn't have the ring on him. And he didn't. Not in his pockets. Not under his clothes.

Which meant it was somewhere in the manor.

Finally, she entered Tom's room, the room she had given him when they arrived the first time during Christmas. The sight made her want to strangle him. Tom Riddle had made himself comfortable in her manor in the room she had let him borrow.

Arabella had no time to dwell. She moved quickly, scanning the obvious places first. Not in the drawers. Not behind the mirror. Not under the pillow. Not behind the bed frame.

Then she paused. Her eyes slid toward the fireplace. She crouched down in front of it and ran her fingers along the bricks, tapping each one. Solid. Solid. Solid. Solid. Hollow.

She smirked. A panel opened and inside was a small box wrapped in velvet.

Oh, Tommy. How precious. Was he planning to propose? Arabella opened it, and—

Empty. Her face went blank. "Son of a—"

She shut the box hard enough to nearly break it in half. Okay. Not there. But she was close. He had made a hiding place in his room — her room. That meant she was onto something. If it wasn't here, then—

Footsteps from the floor below. Tom's heartbeat. Fucking hell. He was coming.

Arabella made no move to run. She stood up and faced the doorway, ready for him to enter. She was sick of speeding around the mansion and avoiding the sunlight. It was time to confront dear Tom.

Then, the door swung open and in entered a scowling Tom. He stopped when he saw her standing in the middle of his room. His gaze flicked around the room. Disheveled bed. Open drawers. The shattered glass of a cup of water she had knocked over.

His eyes narrowed.

"I would ask what you're doing in here," Tom said, shutting the door behind him, "but I think I already know."

Arabella tried to ignore the way the morning light from the window was creeping dangerously close to her bare arms. "Then save us both the performance."

He said nothing at first. Just walked further in, steps light — almost bored — as his eyes took in the mess she'd made. "You're not very subtle when you're desperate. The entire ground floor is a mess."

She smiled without humour. "You're not very subtle either, darling," she replied, hinting to Tom that he knew what she was looking for.

Tom stopped a few feet in front of her, his eyes cold. "You went through my things."

"You went through me first, meaning my dead body. I'd say we're even."

"You're trespassing."

She huffed. "In my manor?"

His jaw clenched. "Why are you really here?"

Arabella rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You know what I'm looking for."

Tom cocked his head to the side. "Tell me."

She glared at him, veins beginning to faintly form under her eyes. "Give it back and I'll decide not to lock you out the manor."

Tom smiled. "I can't."

What?

Arabella stilled. "What do you mean, you can't?"