Chapter 15
Zora
By the time evening settles over the estate, the chaos from the morning hunt has faded into an uneasy calm. Most of the guests have scattered throughout the manor, some gathering in the lounges downstairs while others retreat to their rooms before dinner.
I make my way down the hallway, but my mind isn't on the upcoming evening. It's in Fergus' room. More specifically, the locked case hidden inside it.
The image has been bothering me ever since I found it.
When I push open the bedroom door, I find Domenico sitting on the edge of the bed. His shirt has been discarded onto a nearby chair, exposing the graze wound on his upper arm. A roll of bandage rests in one hand while the other awkwardly attempts to wrap the injury. He's failing miserably.
I watch him struggle with it for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. "You're making that look far more difficult than it needs to be."
His head immediately lifts. The moment he sees me, a familiar smirk appears. "Well, this is unexpected."
I walk toward the medical kit on the bedside table. "What is?"
"The woman who shot me voluntarily checking on her victim."
"If I actually wanted to shoot you, Nico, we wouldn't be having this conversation." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Silence immediately follows. My hand freezes halfway to the medical kit. Across from me, Domenico goes still. Not completely. Just enough for me to notice. Enough for him to notice.
For a brief second, neither of us says anything. The nickname hangs awkwardly between us. I have no idea why I said it. I've always called him Domenico. Or Lucien when we're around other people. Never Nico. Never something that sounds so familiar and intimate.
His eyebrow slowly lifts.
I busy myself with opening the antiseptic bottle as if nothing happened. As if I didn't feel the sudden warmth creeping up my neck.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. "Nico."
The single word sounds different coming from him.
I finally glance up. "It slipped out."
"Did it?"
"Don't make it weird."
His smile only grows. "I wasn't planning to. But now that you've mentioned it..."
"Nico."
His laugh is low and entirely too pleased with himself. "See? You did it again."
I hate the fact that he's enjoying this. Even worse, I hate the fact that I suddenly can't bring myself to call him anything else.
"Stop smiling."
"I can't."
I decide very quickly that continuing this conversation is a mistake.
Before he can say anything else, I reach for the medical supplies and move closer to inspect the wound properly.
"Try not to enjoy this part quite as much." I mutter.
I step between his knees to get a better look at the wound. The moment my fingers brush against his arm, he goes quiet. Not tense. Just watchful. As if he's more interested in observing me than the injury itself.
"You looked very pleased with yourself this morning." Nico says, watching me far too closely.
I dab the antiseptic against the wound before replying. "You imagined it."
"I didn't."
"You did."
His eyes narrow slightly. "You smiled."
"People smile all the time."
"Not after shooting someone."
I lift my gaze and give him a flat look. "It was an accident."
"Sure it was, Elf."
I don't bother responding to the nickname.
At this point, it has become such a regular part of our conversations that arguing about it feels pointless.
Instead, I focus on cleaning the wound, carefully working the antiseptic around the edges of the graze before checking that the bleeding has finally started to slow.
The injury really is minor. A few more inches and it would've been serious, but as it stands, it looks worse than it actually is.
For a moment, silence settles between us. Comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. And that's exactly what bothers me.
Nico watches me secure the bandage around his arm, his expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief as I pull the gauze a little tighter than strictly necessary. He notices immediately but instead of complaining, he simply shakes his head and lets out a low laugh.
"I suppose I should be used to you invading my privacy by now." He says casually.
My hand immediately stills against his arm. There it is. The trap.
I narrow my eyes. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing at all." His tone is entirely too innocent. "I was just thinking about how naturally you seem to wander into places you don't belong."
I already know where this conversation is heading.
"Nico."
"Like bathrooms."
I close my eyes. "Nico."
"Specifically bathrooms occupied by naked men."
The memory hits me instantly. Heat rushes up my neck and settles squarely in my cheeks.
Unfortunately, he notices. And a smug smile spreads across his face. "Look at that."
"Don't."
"You're blushing."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
"I'm holding disinfectant. My face is probably reacting to the smell."
Nico stares at me. Then he laughs again. The sound fills the room. "That is genuinely the worst excuse I've ever heard."
I shoot him a glare. "I walked into the wrong room."
"You stood there for three seconds."
"I was in shock."
"You were staring."
"I was not staring."
"You absolutely were."
I press the edge of the tape down with slightly more force than necessary, making sure the bandage stays exactly where I put it.
He doesn't miss that either. "Easy, Elf. You're starting to act defensive."
"I'm not defensive."
"The tape says otherwise."
"Oh, please."
I smooth the bandage once more, entirely because it needs adjusting and not because I need something to do with my hands.
"You're impossible."
"And yet here you are taking care of me."
I hate how quickly that response lands. I hate even more that I don't immediately have a comeback for it.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. The teasing gradually fades, leaving behind something quieter. Something that feels considerably more dangerous.
I finish securing the bandage before reaching for the medical tape. When I glance up again, the amusement has disappeared from his expression.
His gaze sharpens. The change is subtle, but immediate. One second he's teasing me about walking into a bathroom. The next he looks like the man who came here with a purpose. The man beneath the jokes. The man who never stops calculating.
"So? What did you find around the mansion?"
I place the roll of tape back into the medical kit before leaning against the edge of the bed. "I found something."
His attention sharpens immediately. "What?"
I hesitate. The image of Fergus's room flashes through my mind. Then the locker.
"I ended up in Fergus' private quarters."
The shift is subtle, but I notice it immediately. His posture doesn't change, his expression remains carefully controlled, yet all traces of amusement disappear from his face.
"What did you find?"
I step away from the bed and fold my arms across my chest.
"I didn't have enough time to search properly. I was looking for a shirt when I ended up there. Trying to see if there was anything useful while I was there. Most of the room looked normal, but then I found a digital locker hidden inside his walk-in closet."
His eyes narrow slightly. "Hidden how?"
"Behind a row of winter coats. It was bolted directly into the wall."
"And you got a look inside?"
I shake my head. "No. I didn't even get a chance to touch it."
"What happened?"
"Roisin."
Understanding immediately flashes across his face. "She caught you."
"Standing right in the doorway." I exhale slowly.
"I managed to convince her that I was lost. At least, I think I did. She smiled and acted normal, but something felt off."
Nico studies me for a moment before nodding. "She's smarter than people give her credit for."
"I know." The memory of her expression makes me uneasy.
"She looked at me like she knew I was lying."
"Maybe she did."
The possibility settles heavily between us. For several seconds neither of us speaks.
Nico is clearly turning the information over in his mind, examining every angle the same way he examines everything else.
Finally he leans back slightly. "A digital locker in Fergus Keegan's private closet isn't something we can ignore."
"Exactly."
"But instincts aren't enough."
I already know where he's going with this. "They're enough for me."
His gaze lifts to mine. "Zora."
"I'm serious." I push away from the bed and begin pacing slowly across the room. "Think about it. Fergus is paranoid. Everything about this family revolves around secrecy, leverage, and control. If he's hiding something valuable, he's not leaving it inside a desk drawer."
Nico remains silent. Listening. Which somehow makes me continue.
"I can't explain it. I know how ridiculous it sounds. But the moment I saw that locker, I knew it mattered."
"And if you're wrong?"
I stop pacing. "Then we're fucked."
His mouth twitches slightly, but he doesn't interrupt.
"We came all the way here for information. If we leave without checking it, we'll spend the rest of this operation wondering what was inside."
Nico slowly nods. "Fair point."
Relief washes through me. Not because he agrees. Because he understands.
"The problem is getting back into that room."
"The celebration." He says immediately.
I nod. "The celebration."
For the first time since entering the room, we begin looking at the situation from a practical standpoint. The upcoming commemoration is only days away. Important guests will arrive from across Europe. The estate will be overflowing with people.
"The staff will be overwhelmed." I say.
"And security will be focused on the guests. Nobody is going to care about the residential wing while hundreds of people are downstairs celebrating."
"They'll care if they find us inside Fergus's room."
"True." His expression remains thoughtful. "We'll only get one opportunity."
I nod. "And if we miss it?"
"We leave empty-handed."
The answer hangs between us. Neither of us likes it.
For the next several minutes we go over everything we know. The layout of the estate. The movement of the staff. Which family members are likely to be occupied. What rooms might be empty. What areas will attract attention.
The conversation becomes increasingly focused. There is no teasing now. No games. Just two people trying to solve a difficult problem before time runs out.
Eventually the discussion begins slowing. Neither of us has a perfect solution. Only possibilities. And possibilities are dangerous.
"The biggest issue is timing." Nico says quietly. "If Fergus leaves the celebration unexpectedly, we're trapped. If someone notices we're missing, we're trapped. If Roisin sees us again, we're trapped."
I let out a frustrated breath "You're incredibly motivating, you know that?"
"I'm being realistic."
I hate that he's right.
For a moment, the room falls silent as I study the documents spread across the table, searching for solutions that aren't there. The problem remains exactly where I left it, stubborn and immovable.
When I finally look up, I find Nico watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"We'll figure it out." He says quietly.
The confidence in his voice catches me off guard. It's not arrogance. It's certainty. And for some reason, that certainty settles something restless inside me. I should probably find that concerning. Instead, I find it reassuring.
Eventually he pushes himself off the bed and walks toward the chair where his fresh shirt is waiting. The discussion is over.
For now. We have a target. A rough plan. And a very small window to make it work.
As he pulls the shirt over his head, I find myself watching him longer than I should. Maybe because my mind is still running through possibilities. Maybe because I'm trying to convince myself that trusting him isn't a mistake. Either way, I don't look away fast enough.
And… Nico notices. Again.
A slow smirk appears on his face. "Careful, Elf."
I grab the nearest pillow and throw it directly at his head.
He catches it effortlessly before it can hit him.
The smug bastard actually has the audacity to grin.
I shake my head and push myself off the bed before I do something even more embarrassing.
Or worse, something that makes him think he's winning.
Without giving him another response, I turn and head toward the bathroom attached to our room.
His laugh follows me across the bedroom as I reach for the door handle.
By the time I step inside and close the door behind me, the sound is still echoing in my ears.
Infuriatingly enough, I find myself fighting a smile of my own.