Satisfaction flickers across his face, mingled with an unexpected wariness. He was prepared for tears, for rage, for bargaining. My calm acceptance has thrown him off balance, if only slightly.
Good.
“Do you have questions?” he asks, regaining his composure.
I have hundreds. About my mother. About his plans. About how long he intends to keep me here. But I select one that seems appropriately practical for my new persona.
“How long do you expect this... arrangement lasting?”
He studies me over the rim of his glass. “That depends on several factors. The resolution of certain business matters.Your mother’s movements. Moretti’s next play.” A pause. “Your continued cooperation.”
I nod, soaking it all in. He’s basically telling me I’m a pawn in a bunch of different games. Leverage against my mom, a trophy taken from Moretti, and maybe even someone he can use later.
Nico’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it, his expression growing more serious as he reads whatever message has come through.
“We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow,” he says, rising to his feet. “You should rest. Have Maria bring you anything you need.”
He moves toward the door, pausing only to deliver a last instruction: “Don’t mess with the security systems, Lea. You haven’t seen half of what I can do. And believe me, you don’t want to see the rest.”
With that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the vast, elegant space.
I remain seated for several minutes, ensuring he’s truly departed and not simply watching my immediate reaction. When I’m confident he’s gone, I return to my quarters, moving with the slow, careful gait of someone in pain, which, to be fair, I genuinely am.
Nico believes he’s isolated me and rendered me powerless. He thinks the game is over.
He’s wrong. It’s just beginning.
CHAPTER FIVE
LEA
Three days passin a blur of submission and recovery, my feet healing nicely. I’ve created a routine designed to lull Nico and his security team into complacency. Every morning, I limp to the kitchen, accept breakfast from Maria, and retreat to the sunroom where I read books from the well-stocked shelves. Each afternoon, I nap or pretend to. Each evening, I dine with Nico when he’s present, maintaining polite, restrained conversation.
I am a model prisoner. Compliant, subdued, resigned.
It’s all an act.
Behind the facade, I’m mapping, memorizing, calculating. The lake house is larger than I initially thought, with multiple points of entry and exit. The security team operates on twelve-hour shifts, with a change at 6 AM and 6 PM. Blake oversees both teams, but he’s not always present. There are blind spots in the camera coverage, particularly in the northeast corner of the grounds where the tree line comes closest to the house.
Most importantly, I’ve discovered that Nico is distracted. Something significant is happening that requires frequent calls and occasional absences. Whatever it is, it’s consuming enough of his attention that he hasn’t noticed my careful observations.
Today marks my fourth day of captivity here. I sit in the sunroom with a biography of Catherine de Medici open on my lap. I’m not reading it. Instead, I’m watching the reflection of the security guard in the window as he makes his rounds. Right on schedule, as always.
The door opens, and Nico enters. He’s wearing a charcoal suit, impeccably tailored as always, but there’s a tightness in his shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday.
“Good morning,” I say, not looking up from my book.
“We’re going out,” he announces without preamble. “If your feet can handle it.”
A rush comes over me. I look up, genuinely surprised. “Absolutely. My feet are much better,” I hurry to say before he changes his mind. “But out? I thought I was under lockdown. I thought Moretti was hunting me.”
“Moretti has gone quiet,” Nico replies, his expression unreadable. “My sources show he’s regrouping, likely waiting for the next big shipment to make his move. The immediate threat of a direct assault has passed. For now.”
The news sends a jolt of hope through me. “So, if it’s safe... I’m free to go?”
A cold smile touches his lips. “No. You’re not. This ends the day Moretti is no longer walking among us. Not a moment before. You know too much to be ‘free’ of this, Lea. And besides,” hisgaze darkens slightly, “I’m not done with you.” He gestures toward the hallway. “Get dressed. Maria has put suitable options for a business lunch in your closet.”
I carefully mark my place in the book. The hope I felt moments ago curdles into cold reality. I’m not a guest being protected; I’m a possession being managed. “May I ask where we’re going?”
