Chapter 56: One day
Lucia’s POV
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, though I wouldn’t call it amusement.
More like patience.
The kind people have before deciding whether someone is worth answering.
I fold my arms before he can speak first.
“Why didn’t you warn us?”
His brows pull together just enough to show he understands immediately.
“The explosion.”
Because a building exploded. Men got hurt. Dante has looked exhausted for days.
And standing in front of me is a man who has access to the person responsible.
Nico’s expression doesn’t change. Not even a little.
“I don’t answer to you,” he says calmly. “I answer to your husband.”
The response irritates me instantly.
Maybe because it is true.
Maybe because of the way he says husband.
I lift my chin slightly.
“Whatever you can tell my husband,” I say evenly, “you can tell me.”
Silence.
His eyes settle on my face for longer than necessary.
Studying.
Not the way men usually study women.
The way someone looks at an old photograph and notices it has changed.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter.
“I didn’t know.”
I blink.
“What?”
“The explosion.” His jaw shifts slightly. “I wasn’t aware of the plan.”
Suspicion rises immediately. “You expect me to believe that?”
His expression hardens a fraction. “I’m not asking you to believe anything.”
Annoying. Always so annoyingly composed. He leans one shoulder against the wall behind him before continuing.
“Casteelo is clever.”
The words come slowly now.
Measured.
“He knew you would report everything back to Dante.” His eyes remain on mine. “You made that very clear during your meeting.”
My stomach tightens slightly at the memory.
The questions.
The answers.
The declaration.
My husband.
Nico notices.
Of course he notices.
His gaze flickers briefly before returning to neutral.
“Casteelo doesn’t trust people,” he says. “Not fully. Not even me.”
I frown.
“He keeps information divided. Different people know different things. That way, if something leaks…” A small shrug follows. “He knows where it came from.”
I stare at him for a second.
Because unfortunately—
It makes sense.
Which bothers me.
“So you genuinely didn’t know.”
His expression stays unreadable.
“No.”
The answer comes too easily. And somehow that convinces me more than defensiveness would have.
A silence settles between us after that. Then another thought surfaces. One that has been bothering me since the moment he walked through the door.
I narrow my eyes slightly.
“What did you come to report today?”
His eyebrow lifts immediately.
There it is again—
That almost amused look.
“You ask a lot of questions now.”
“I’m waiting for an answer.”
His gaze holds mine for a beat too long before he straightens away from the wall.
Then:
“I’ll give what belongs to Dante…”
His voice lowers slightly.
“…to Dante.”
Something in me bristles instantly.
Not anger.
Something sharper.
Because I am tired.
Tired of being protected from information.
Tired of rooms going quiet.
Tired of men deciding what I can and cannot know.
So before I think too much about it, the words leave.
“Then how about,” I say slowly, holding his gaze, “you give me what belongs to me?”
That—
That makes him pause.
Actually pause.
His eyes narrow slightly. I keep going before he can dismiss me.
“You owe me answers too, Nico.”
His name feels strange in my mouth sometimes.
Old.
“You disappeared,” I continue quietly. “Years passed. Then suddenly you come back as an assassin working for the man trying to destroy my husband.”
The emphasis is deliberate. His face doesn’t change.
Mine does. Because despite everything— The hurt is old.
And old hurts settle differently.
“You pointed a gun at me,” I say, softer now. “You knew it was me.”
That one lands. I see it. Only for a second. A tightening near his jaw. Gone quickly.
But there.
“So yes,” I finish. “Dante deserves information.”
“But I think I deserve something too.”
The hallway becomes very still.
From somewhere deeper in the house, I hear laughter.
Probably Alessia.
While mine keeps circling unanswered questions.
Nico looks at me for so long I almost regret asking.
Almost.
Then his mouth curves—not a smile.
Never a smile.
Something tired.
“You always wanted explanations.”
I blink. His eyes stay on mine.
“And you always hated silence.”
The familiarity in the statement unsettles me more than it should. Because he says it like he remembers.
Like years didn’t happen. Like I wasn’t abandoned. Then his expression hardens again.
Walls returning.
“One day,” he says quietly.
I frown immediately.
“One day what?”
“One day…”
His gaze flicks toward the study where Dante likely is.
Then back to me.
“…I’ll tell you everything.”
I hate the answer instantly.
Because it sounds too much like another disappearance.
Another delay.
Another unfinished thing.
And I’m about to say so when Nico steps back first.
Creating distance.
Again.
His voice returns to neutral.
“But today isn’t that day, princess.”
I stare at him.
Then glare.
Actually glare.
His mouth twitches faintly.
And I realise with sudden irritation;
He enjoys it.
Just a little.
Which makes me want to throw something at him.
Instead, I say coldly:
“I liked you better when I thought you were dead.”
The response leaves before I can stop it.
Silence.
His expression stills completely.
For one second. Then two
Then he nods once. Like maybe he thinks I have earned the right to say it.
“Yeah,” he says softly.
His eyes leave mine first.
“Some days…”
The words are almost too quiet.
“…me too.”