Chapter 21 -
Back in her room, Nia lay on the bed, staring up at the chandelier. Her mind raced, replaying every word of her confrontation with Leo, analyzing it, picking it apart.
He was hiding something. She could feel it. The way he had hesitated when she mentioned Alex's death, the flicker of something in his eyes when she accused him of using her as bait.
There was more to this than he was letting on.
A soft knock on the door made her sit up. "What now?" The door opened a crack, and Rosa's face appeared. "May I come in, dear?"
Nia nodded, too exhausted to argue.
Rosa entered, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. She set it down on the small table by the window and turned to Nia with a sad smile.
"You are making things very difficult for yourself," Rosa said gently.
"I know." Nia's voice came out small, tired.
Rosa sat on the edge of the bed, her weathered hands folding in her lap. "The boss is not a bad man, Nia. He is just a man carrying too much weight. Too much pain."
"That does not give him the right to treat me like property."
"No," Rosa agreed. "It does not. But understanding him might help you survive him."
Nia looked at the older woman, really looked at her. "You care about him."
"I have known Leonardo since he was a boy," Rosa said softly. "I watched him grow up. I watched him fall in love. And I watched that love get ripped away from him in the most brutal way possible." She paused. "He is not the same man he was before Andrea died. I do not think he ever will be."
Nia felt something twist in her chest. Not sympathy, exactly. But maybe something close to understanding.
"That still does not make this okay," Nia whispered.
"No," Rosa said again. "It does not."
She stood, smoothing down her apron. "Drink your tea, dear. And try to get some rest. Tomorrow is another day."
Rosa left, closing the door softly behind her. Nia stared at the tea, steam curling up from the cup in delicate spirals.
She thought about Leo. About the cold fury in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way he held himself like he was always braced for an attack.
A man carrying too much weight.
Nia wrapped her hands around the warm cup and brought it to her lips.
She still hated him.
But maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand why he was the way he was.
And that scared her more than anything.
A soft knock made her look up. The door opened a crack, and Lucia slipped inside, her face worried. "Are you alright?" she whispered. "I heard him come up here. Half the house heard him."
Nia let out a shaky laugh. "Define alright."
Lucia sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand. "I am sorry. I should not have taken you out. I just thought..."
"No." Nia squeezed her hand. "Do not apologize. I needed that. I needed to feel like a person again, even for just a little while."
"He is furious with me too," Lucia said with a wry smile. "Christian is probably going to hear about it, which means I am going to hear about it, which means tonight's dinner is going to be absolutely delightful."
Despite everything, Nia found herself smiling. "We really know how to make trouble, do we not?"
"The best kind."
They sat together in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Lucia stood, smoothing down her dress. "Get some rest," she said gently. "And tonight at dinner, keep your head down. Let me handle Leo."
"Lucia..."
"Trust me." She gave Nia's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We troublemakers have to stick together."
After Lucia left, Nia lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The chandelier sparkled above her, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
The tension from Leo's visit still clung to Nia's skin like humidity before a storm. She sat on the edge of her bed, picking at a loose thread on her dress, replaying every word he had said, every look he had given her. The memory of his closeness, the heat of his anger, the almost-softness in his eyes when he had mentioned Andrea. It all swirled in her mind until she thought she might go mad.
A knock at the door made her jump.
"If that is you again, Leo, I swear I will throw something," she called out, trying to inject some courage into her voice.
"Not Leo," came Micheal's amused reply from the other side. "Just the fun brother. Can I come in?"
Nia hesitated, then stood and crossed to the door, pulling it open. Micheal stood there in dark jeans and a rumpled gray shirt, his dirty blonde hair even messier than usual. He held up two bottles of water like peace offerings.
"Thought you might be thirsty after all that excitement," he said with that easy grin of his. "Mind if I come in? Or are you under strict solitary confinement now?"
She stepped aside, letting him enter. "I think I am one step away from actual chains, so enjoy the visit while you can."
Micheal handed her one of the bottles and settled himself into the chair near the window, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Leo came to see you, I heard. Well, everyone heard. The man has a way of making an entrance."
"Is that what we are calling it?" Nia twisted the cap off her water and took a long drink. "I would call it a home invasion."
"Fair point." Micheal chuckled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "He does have a flair for the dramatic when he is pissed off. Which, these days, is pretty much all the time."
Nia sank back onto the bed, crossing her legs underneath her. "Does he ever relax? Like, ever? Or was he born wearing a suit and scowling?"
"There was a time," Micheal said, his expression growing more thoughtful, "when Leo actually smiled. Laughed, even. But that was before..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting to the window.
"Before Andrea," Nia finished quietly.
Micheal nodded. "Yeah. Before Andrea."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of that name settling over them. Then Micheal seemed to shake himself out of whatever dark thought had gripped him, and his grin returned.
"But enough about my brooding older brother. I did not come here to talk about Leo." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I came to talk about you. So, Nia Wallace, what is your story? And I mean besides the whole being-kidnapped-by-a-mafia-family thing."
Nia raised an eyebrow. "Is not that enough of a story?"
"Fair point," he said again, laughing. "But come on. Who were you before all this? What did you do? What did you dream about? I want to know the person, not just the prisoner."
There was genuine curiosity in his voice, no mockery or hidden agenda. It caught her off guard. Most of the people in this house either ignored her, threatened her, or looked at her like she was a problem to be solved. But Micheal was looking at her like she was an actual human being.
"I do not know if my story is all that interesting," she said, toying with the water bottle in her hands.
"Try me."