Chapter 50 -
Nia tried to make a quick escape toward the gardens, hoping the fresh air would clear the fog in her chest. She made it as far as the heavy oak doors of the sunroom before a hand caught her elbow. It was not the rough, possessive grip of Leo, but a firm, slender one.
Lucia pulled her into the small alcove behind the heavy velvet curtains, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the brothers.
“What happened last night?” Lucia asked. There was no judgment in her voice, only a sharp, sisterly demand for the truth.
“Nothing happened, Lucia. Truly,” Nia insisted. She tried to pull away, but Lucia held fast.
“Do not lie to me, Nia. I am the one who has to live with these men every day. I know the way the air feels when something has changed,” Lucia said. She stepped closer, her eyes searching Nia’s face. “I saw how Leo looked at you when he told Matteo to take you upstairs. And I saw how he avoided looking at you just now. He is terrified.”
Nia felt her face heat up. She looked down at her shoes, unable to maintain eye contact. “How did he look at me?”
“Like he wanted to either strangle you or kiss you,” Lucia replied bluntly. “And knowing Leo, he is probably confused about which one would be more dangerous for him.”
Nia let out a shaky breath, her heart doing a frantic dance in her ribs. “You are imagining things, Lucia. He sees me as a tool. He told me so himself. He said I am just a part of his mission and nothing more.”
Lucia let out a short, bitter laugh and released Nia’s arm. She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. A knowing, almost sad smile touched her lips.
“Leo has spent his whole life convincing himself that people are just pieces on a board,” Lucia whispered. “If he told you that you are just a tool, it is because he is trying to convince himself, not you. He is trying to build a wall because you already found the door.”
“I have not found anything,” Nia argued, though her voice lacked any real strength.
“Sure you haven’t,” Lucia said, her smile widening into something almost pitying. “And I suppose the moon is made of green cheese, too. Just be careful, Nia. When a man like Leo starts feeling things, he does not just fall. He burns everything down so he does not have to feel the cold.”
Lucia turned and walked away, leaving Nia standing in the shadows of the sunroom. The mansion felt quieter now, but the silence was no longer empty. It was filled with the terrifying possibility that Lucia was right.
~
The library was the only room in the DeSanto mansion that did not feel like a cage. It was a vast, circular space with shelves that reached toward a domed ceiling, filled with thousands of books that smelled of vanilla, old paper, and wood smoke. Nia spent most of her afternoons here, tucked into a velvet armchair, trying to lose herself in worlds where the villains were easy to spot and the heroes always came home.
Today, the silence of the room was broken by the soft, rhythmic thud of small feet on the carpet. Nia did not have to look up to know who it was. Gabriel had a way of moving that was both cautious and determined, a trait he had clearly inherited from the men in his family.
“Miss Nia?”
Gabriel stood at the edge of her rug, clutching a worn picture book about a lonely dragon to his chest. His dark curls were a mess, and his eyes were wide with a question he had been carrying all day.
“Hello, Gabriel,” Nia said, closing her own book and offering him a small, genuine smile. “Did you finish your lessons with the tutor?”
“He is boring,” Gabriel declared, marching forward. Without waiting for an invitation, he climbed onto the oversized armchair and crawled into Nia’s lap. He was warm and solid, a reminder of the innocence that still existed within these stone walls. “He wants me to learn about numbers. I want to learn about dragons.”
“Dragons are much more interesting than numbers,” Nia agreed, adjusting her position so he could lean against her chest.
Gabriel opened his book, but he did not start reading. Instead, he looked up at her, his expression suddenly very serious. “Miss Nia, do you like Uncle Nardo?”
The question felt like a physical blow. Nia’s breath hitched in her throat, and she felt the familiar heat of a blush creeping up her neck. She thought about the hallway, the way Leo’s hand had felt on her arm, and the words he had snatched back from the air.
“That is a very complicated question, Gaby,” Nia said carefully. She ran a hand through his curls, trying to keep her fingers from trembling.
“Why is it complicated?” Gabriel asked, tilting his head. “Either you like someone or you do not. I like you. I do not like the tutor. See? It is easy.”
Nia let out a soft, tired laugh. “It is easy when you are six. When you get older, the people you should not like are often the ones who are the hardest to forget. Your uncle… he is not an easy man to understand.”
“He likes you,” Gabriel said with the absolute certainty that only a child can possess.
Nia froze. She looked down at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. “How do you know that? Did he say something to you?”
“No,” Gabriel whispered, as if he were sharing a great secret. “He does not say it with his mouth. But he smiles different when he talks about you. His eyes get soft, like the way Mama’s eyes used to look when she tucked me in. He does not look like the Enforcer when you are around.”
Nia felt a lump form in her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but the weight of Gabriel’s words was too much. “He talks about me?”
“All the time,” Gabriel nodded, his little face solemn. “He asks me if you are eating your lunch. He asks me if you are sad. Last night, he stayed in my room until I fell asleep, and he asked me what kind of flowers you like. I told him you like the yellow ones in the garden because they look like the sun.”