Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eleonora
I’m starving.
I regretted sending that first maid away the second my door clicked shut. Especially while I was still trapped in that heavy, suffocating wedding dress. I regretted it even more when the second maid brought food earlier and I snapped at her to leave.
I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Nerves had killed my appetite this morning before we even left for the church. Now my hands are almost shaking as I pick up the fork and stuff my mouth with food, not bothering that Nico is right at the same table.
I’m no longer pretending not to be hungry, I just figured, if I’m going to escape him and his men, I need the energy.
Another bite of warm, creamy risotto hits my tongue and I have to stop myself from moaning. It’s rich, perfectly seasoned, and so good it’s almost criminal. I take another bite, then another, barely chewing before I reach for the balsamic-glazed tomatoes.
I feel his eyes on me the entire time.
I finally look up. Nico is leaning back in his chair, wine glass in hand, watching me with that dark, unreadable intensity that makes my skin feel too tight.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He doesn’t look away. “You’re staring.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the one staring. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude?”
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He takes a slow sip of wine before asking, “Why did you pretend to be Sienna?”
I set my fork down. “Do you have memory problems on top of everything else? I already told you. I did it so my sister could run away with the man she loves.”
He leans back further, looking genuinely intrigued. “And what was your plan when Andrea realized you weren’t the bride he chose? What were you going to do then?”
I shrug, reaching for another piece of focaccia. “I was going to cross that bridge when I got to it.” I guess not anymore.
Nico’s expression darkens. “He would’ve eaten you alive, Eleonora. You know that, right?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “Guess I have you to thank for saving me then,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He raises his glass toward me like he’s giving a toast. “You’re welcome.”
I huff and look away, tearing off another piece of bread. I knew Andrea was dangerous. I dreaded the moment he’d lift my veil and realize I wasn’t Sienna. But I’d been willing to face it for her.
After a long stretch of silence, I ask the question that’s been burning in my chest.
“Why won’t you let me go?” My voice comes out quieter than I want. “I’m not even the sister you wanted.”
Nico sets his glass down, eyes locked on mine.
“Because neither Gallo nor your father knows that,” he says simply. “As far as everyone is concerned, I have Sienna Caruso… and possibly her sister too. And I’m going to let them keep believing it. That way, I’ll get to have your father bend over quicker.”
I stare at him across the candlelit table, the rich food suddenly tasting like ash in my mouth.
I’m not a person to him. I’m leverage. Same way my papa sees me.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” I ask, pushing my plate away even though I’m still hungry.
Nico’s lips curve into a slow, mocking smile. “Missing home already? Or is it Andrea Gallo you’re eager to get back to?”
I blink, stunned. “What?”
“You willingly took your sister’s place,” he says, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “Why else would you do that unless you had a little crush on Gallo? Maybe you wished he’d picked you instead of Sienna.”
The words hit like a slap. It’s almost insulting that he’d think I like a man like Andrea Gallo. He’s a monster and I hate him with every fiber of my being.
“That’s ridiculous!” I say, heat rushing to my face. “I did what I did to save my sister from a miserable life. But I guess that’s something you wouldn’t understand, someone actually sacrificing for the people they love. Maybe no one’s ever done anything for you before.”
He watches me for a long second, anger flashing in his expression, then murmurs, “Touching.” He stands abruptly, dinner clearly over. “Let’s go.”
I throw my napkin on the table and rise. His hand settles at the small of my back as we leave the dining room, guiding me up the stairs. The heat of his palm burns through the thin sweater. I hate how aware I am of every finger.
On the way back to my room, my mind starts working. I scan the corners for cameras, note the placement of the guards we pass. I need to find out the time between their rotations. I need to know their routines.
“Attempting to escape won’t end well for you,” Nico says quietly, without even looking at me. “It would be in your best interest not to try running. You won’t make it past the gate.”
How did he know what I was thinking? Was I that obvious? I tilt my head, meeting his gaze with a smile. “If I’m going to be your prisoner, I’m not going to stay blind and stupid. You can lock me in, but you can’t stop me from looking.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t reply.
We reach my bedroom door. He opens it and waits for me to step inside. Before I can close it, he leans in slightly, voice low and dangerous.
“Don’t try anything funny tonight. I’ll know.”
The door shuts with a click. I stand in the middle of the room, heart racing, skin still tingling where his hand had been on my back. God, I hate him.
I huff out a frustrated breath and walk over to the tall glass doors leading to the balcony, yank one open, and step outside.
The night air hits me instantly, cool, crisp, carrying the scent of pine and blooming night flowers. I walk to the stone banister and lean against it, gripping the cool railing as I look out.
The garden below is stunning, even in the dark. Soft landscape lights illuminate winding paths, perfectly trimmed hedges, and clusters of white roses glowing under the moonlight.
It would be peaceful… if it weren’t for the armed guards I can see patrolling the grounds in pairs, their black uniforms blending into the shadows. Escaping this place will be hard.
I grip the railing tighter. I have to find a way out.
Camilla, Rosalia, and Daniela… I hope they’re okay.
I hope Papa isn’t taking his rage out on them now that both Sienna and I are gone.
Rosalia’s already married off, but Camilla and little Daniela are still under his roof.
They need me. They’ve always needed me to stand between them and his temper.
And Sienna… God, I hope she and Domenico made it somewhere safe.
I hope she’s happy right now, laughing, finally free.
I know I might never see her again. Any contact would be risky.
But that’s okay. As long as she gets the life the rest of us can only dream about.
Love, freedom, a man who looks at her like she’s his entire world.
I’m so lost in thought I almost miss the deep, baritone voice beside me.
“You wouldn’t survive the fall.”
I stiffen then quickly regain my composure. “At least I’d be free of you.”
I turn and the air leaves my lungs.
Nico is standing by the second door that opens onto the balcony, wearing nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. My gaze flicks from him to the door, then back again. Is that his bedroom? Did he put me in the room next to his?
I move my gaze back to him. His chest is damp, water droplets tracing slow paths down the hard ridges of his abs before disappearing into the towel.
He’s chiseled, broad shoulders, defined pecs, and a six-pack that looks carved from stone.
Dark, intricate tattoos cover his chest and left shoulder, swirling patterns and lines.
The sight of him like this, half-naked, water glistening on his skin, dark hair wet and tousled, sends a rush of unwanted heat straight through me.
He steps closer. My back hits the stone banister. His body heat wraps around me. I can smell his body wash, something clean with a hint of spice mixed with the faint scent of his skin.
My heart slams against my ribs. He’s so close I can see the individual droplets clinging to his collarbone. For one dizzying second, I think he’s going to kiss me. His eyes drop to my mouth, dark and intense, and the tension crackles between us like electricity.
I hold my breath expecting his lips on mine. Instead, his hand closes around my upper arm and he pulls me away from the balcony.
“Inside,” he orders.
He marches me back into the bedroom and releases me so suddenly I stumble and land on the mattress with a shriek.
“You bastard!” I snap, scrambling up. “Don’t you ever—”
But he’s already gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
I rush to the balcony doors. Locked. I storm over to the main door. Locked.
That fucking asshole.
I slam my palm against the wood, anger boiling over. He just walked in here half-naked, pressed me against the railing like he wanted to devour me, then tossed me on the bed like a disobedient child and locked me in.
I hate him.
I hate how my body reacts to him. And I really, really hate how part of me wishes he had kissed me.