Chapter 19 -
They hurried back down the hallway, their footsteps quick and quiet against the polished floors. Micheal trailed behind them, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, whistling a tune that sounded suspiciously like a funeral march. They had just rounded the corner into another corridor when the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoed from somewhere uncomfortably nearby.
Lucia's eyes went wide, her face draining of color. "That is Matteo."
"Split up," Micheal whispered urgently, suddenly all business. "I will distract him. You two get back to Nia's room before he realizes she is missing. Go. Now."
Before either woman could argue or even thank him, Micheal strolled off in the direction of the approaching footsteps, whistling that same obnoxious tune even louder. Lucia did not waste a single second. She grabbed Nia's hand and pulled her in the opposite direction, practically dragging her as they half walked, half ran through the maze of hallways.
They made it back to Nia's corridor just as Matteo's deep voice rose in the distance, asking Micheal what he was doing in this part of the mansion and why he was not in his own wing. Lucia shoved Nia toward her door with surprising force.
"Get inside," she whispered frantically. "I will handle Matteo. Just get inside and act natural."
"But what about you?" Nia protested.
"I said go!"
Nia slipped into her room, closing the door as softly as she could manage with her hands shaking. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, hear it drumming in her ears. She pressed her ear against the cool wood of the door, straining to hear what was happening outside.
Lucia's voice floated through, smooth and unbothered. "There you are, Matteo. I have been looking for you. Did you manage to fix Gabriel's door? You know how worried I get when the lock does not work properly."
"Yes, ma'am, I fixed it." Matteo's voice was tight, controlled. "But where is Miss Wallace? The door was supposed to be locked from the outside. I specifically locked it before I left."
"Oh, I have no idea. Perhaps she is still inside? She did seem rather tired when I checked on her earlier. Poor thing probably fell asleep."
A long, uncomfortable pause. Then Matteo's footsteps approached the door. Nia held her breath, her entire body going rigid. The door handle rattled, testing.
"Miss Wallace?" Matteo called through the door, his voice carrying a note of suspicion.
Nia forced herself to sound irritated, sleepy. "Yes? What do you want?"
"Just checking on you, ma'am."
"Well, I am fine. Perfectly content in my luxurious cage. Thank you for your concern."
Another pause, this one even longer. Nia could practically feel him weighing his options on the other side of the door. Finally, his footsteps retreated. Nia sagged against the door, exhaling a breath she had been holding so long her lungs burned.
That was close. Too close. Way too close.
But as she sank onto the edge of the bed, smoothing down her dress with trembling hands, she could not quite suppress the small, triumphant smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. She had done it. She had learned the layout of at least part of this massive mansion. She had made genuine allies in Lucia and maybe even Micheal. And for the first time since Leonardo DeSanto had shoved a gun in her face and dragged her away from her life, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she had a fighting chance.
Outside in the shadowed hallway, Matteo stood perfectly still, his phone clutched in his hand. His jaw was tight, the muscles working beneath his skin. His dark eyes stared at Nia's closed door, troubled and uncertain.
He knew something was not right. He had felt it the moment he returned and found the hallway empty, the door unlocked. But he also knew his place. He was a soldier, not a decision maker. His job was to report, not to judge.
He unlocked his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen for a long moment. Then, with a resigned sigh, he typed out a message and hit send.
Boss, we have a situation. Miss Wallace may have left her room. Will continue monitoring.
The message disappeared into the ether, and Matteo pocketed his phone. He resumed his post outside the door, his expression carefully blank. But inside, his mind churned with questions he did not have answers to.
Inside the room, Nia lay back on the bed, staring up at the glittering chandelier. She did not know what came next. She did not know if her small rebellion would cost her. But for now, in this moment, she allowed herself to feel something she had not felt in days.
Hope.
And somewhere in the mansion, in his private wing where no one dared to venture uninvited, Leonardo DeSanto's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, read the message, and his jaw tightened. His gray eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds, and his hand curled into a fist on the desk.
"So," he murmured to the empty room, his voice low and dangerous. "She thinks she can wander freely."
He stood, straightening his suit jacket, and walked toward the door. His footsteps echoed in the silence, purposeful and unrelenting.
Nia Wallace was about to learn a very important lesson about testing the limits of his patience.