Chapter 94 -
Nia stopped pacing. She knew those footsteps. Had learned to recognize them over the past three months the same way she had learned to recognize the smell of tobacco that seemed to follow Leo wherever he went.
“Boss,” Matteo said on the other side of the door. His voice had shifted, become more formal. More guarded.
“How is she?” Leo’s voice was low, rough like he had not slept. Which he probably had not. According to the house gossip that Rosa kept feeding Nia whether she wanted it or not, Leo had been working around the clock. Chasing leads, interviewing contacts, doing whatever it took to find the person responsible for Andrea’s death before the deadline ran out.
“She has been asking about the timeline,” Matteo said carefully.
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth,” Matteo said. “Five more days.”
Silence. Long enough that Nia found herself holding her breath, straining to hear what was happening on the other side of the door.
“Is she eating?” Leo asked finally.
“Rosa brings trays,” Matteo said. “Most of them come back untouched.”
“Make sure she eats,” Leo said. It was an order, delivered in that flat tone he used when he was trying to keep emotion out of his voice. “I do not care how you do it. But she needs to keep her strength up.”
“Yes, boss.”
More silence. Nia pressed her ear against the door, shameless in her eavesdropping. She wanted to hear what Leo would say next. Wanted some indication that he cared, that the kiss they had shared meant something, that she was more than just a prisoner to him.
“Has she said anything?” Leo asked. “About that night?”
Nia’s stomach dropped.
“No, boss,” Matteo said. “She has not mentioned it.”
“Good,” Leo said, and Nia felt something crack in her chest. “Keep it that way.”
Then the footsteps were retreating, getting fainter as Leo walked away like he had not just broken Nia’s heart all over again with two simple words.
Keep it that way.
Like their kiss was something to be buried. Something to pretend never happened. Something shameful that needed to stay hidden.
Nia pulled away from the door, stumbling back until she hit the bed. She sat down hard, her hands shaking as she pressed them against her face.
“Miss Wallace?” Matteo called through the door. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Nia said. The word came out strangled, unconvincing. “I am fine.”
She was not fine. She was the furthest thing from fine. But saying that out loud to Matteo, who was just doing his job and did not deserve to be dragged into the mess of her feelings, seemed cruel.
So she said nothing else. Just sat on the bed and stared at the wall and tried not to think about the fact that Leo had been right outside her door and had not even tried to see her. Had asked about her like she was livestock he needed to keep healthy, not a person he had kissed like she mattered.
The air in the room felt thicker now. Harder to breathe. Like the walls were pressing in, stealing oxygen, making everything feel too close and too small.
Nia stood abruptly. Started pacing again. Five steps. Turn. Seven steps. Turn. Faster this time, her feet hitting the floor with more force, like she could outrun the feeling building in her chest.
Five more days.
Five more days and then what? The Don would take her away and Leo would let him because he had already made it clear that Nia was just a prisoner. Just a means to an end. Just another problem to be solved or disposed of depending on which option was more convenient.
“Damn him,” Nia muttered under her breath. “Damn Leo and his guilt and his fear and his complete inability to feel anything real.”
She stopped at the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Outside, the grounds stretched out in carefully manicured perfection. Green lawns and trimmed hedges and flower beds that probably cost more to maintain than most people made in a year.
It was beautiful. Pristine. Empty.
Just like everything else in this house.
The sun was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that would have been stunning if Nia had been in any mood to appreciate beauty. Instead, she just watched the colors bleed together, counting down the hours until another day was gone.
“Miss Wallace?” Matteo again, always there, always watching. “Dinner will be served soon. Will you be joining the family?”
Nia almost laughed. The family. Like she was part of it. Like she belonged here instead of being held here against her will.
“No,” she said. “Tell Rosa I am not hungry.”
“She will bring a tray anyway,” Matteo said.
“Then she will take it away untouched,” Nia replied. “Same as always.”
She heard Matteo sigh on the other side of the door. Heard the resignation in it. He was probably as tired of this routine as she was. Standing guard outside her room, watching her waste away, knowing there was nothing he could do to change any of it.
The sun continued its descent, the colors in the sky deepening from orange to red to purple. Nia watched it all, her hand pressed against the window, feeling the last warmth of the day through the glass.
Five more days.
The words echoed in her head like a countdown. Like a death sentence. Like the ticking of a clock that would not stop no matter how much she wanted it to.
And somewhere in this massive mansion, Leo was probably sitting in his office or his room or wherever he went to hide from the world, pretending that everything was fine. Pretending that he had not kissed Nia like she was the only real thing in his life. Pretending that pushing her away had been the right choice instead of the cowardly one.
The sky went dark. The sun disappeared completely, leaving behind only stars and the distant glow of the city lights beyond the mansion walls.
Nia stayed at the window, watching the world outside continue on without her.
And she counted. Days. Hours. Minutes. Anything to make the waiting feel less suffocating.
Five more days until everything changed.
Five more days until she found out if Leo would fight for her or let her go.
Five more days until the clock ran out and Nia learned exactly how little she meant to the man she had been stupid enough to care about.
The window was cold against her forehead now. The room behind her was dark, filled with shadows that seemed to reach for her with hungry fingers.
But Nia did not move. Did not turn on the lights. Did not do anything except stand there and stare at the setting sun until even that small comfort disappeared.
And outside her door, Matteo kept his vigil. Silent. Steady. A constant reminder that no matter how much time passed, no matter how many tally marks she added to her hidden paper, Nia was still a prisoner.
Still counting down to an ending she could not control.
Still waiting for a man who had already made it clear he was not coming back for her.