8. The Walls That Bind #2
I glance at Elise, who stands near the door, her hands clasped in front of her, ever composed. “I hope it’s to your liking,” she says smoothly. “If anything needs adjusting, just let me know.”
I don’t answer. Because this isn’t hospitality.
It’s calculated.
I feel it in the way the furniture is arranged, in the way the colors soothe instead of overwhelm. Every piece, every detail—it was designed with me in mind.
Like Antonio already knew exactly what I would want.
I swallow hard, my fingers brushing over the smooth fabric of the bedding.
This isn’t just a room. It’s a message.
Antonio isn’t trying to win me over with words. He’s weaving me into this world with precision, showing me how easily I could belong here—how seamlessly I could fit.
And I hate how effortless it feels.
Valentina steps inside behind me, gasping softly. “Nichole… this is unreal.” She spins in a slow circle, taking it all in before throwing herself onto the bed with a groan. “I think this mattress just changed my life.”
I force a small laugh, but it comes out strained.
She doesn’t see it.
She doesn’t feel it.
But I do.
I turn toward Elise, clearing my throat. “Thank you.”
She inclines her head slightly. “Dinner will be served shortly. Take your time settling in.” With a polite smile, she steps out, the doors clicking softly shut behind her.
The silence in the room stretches, heavy and filled with too many unspoken thoughts.
Valentina sits up, propping herself on her elbows. “You’re being weird.”
I shake my head, trying to ignore the weight pressing against my ribs. “I just… wasn’t expecting this.”
She huffs. “Yeah, well, neither was I. But if this is what being kidnapped leads to, maybe I should start considering my life choices.”
I shoot her a glare, but she only smirks.
I want to tell her. I want to say that this is more than a luxurious place to stay—that there’s something deeper at play here.
But what’s the point?
I don’t even know how to explain it.
So instead, I sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair as the evening settles around us.
I tell myself I’ll keep my guard up.
That I won’t let this place get to me.
But as I sink into the mattress, the weight of the day pressing down on me, I realize something unsettling.
It already has.
Dinner is already set when we step into the dining hall.
The long mahogany table is elegantly arranged, silverware gleaming under the candlelight.
The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted herbs fills the air, mingling with the faintest hint of red wine.
The meal itself looks like something out of a five-star restaurant—perfectly plated, meticulously prepared.
Valentina, who had been quiet for most of the walk over, lets out a low whistle. “I could really get used to this.”
Antonio gestures for us to sit, and without hesitation, Valentina slides into the seat next to me, already reaching for the bread. I hesitate for only a second before taking my place across from Antonio, my posture stiff as one of the staff members fills my glass with water.
Antonio watches me carefully, as if assessing something, but when he finally speaks, his voice is calm, composed. “I assume you have questions.”
I grip my napkin, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I do.”
He leans back in his chair, studying me. “Then let’s discuss them.”
The simplicity of his answer throws me off. No pressure. No manipulation. Just direct, open conversation.
I glance at Valentina, who has already taken a bite of her food, looking far too comfortable for someone who was just kidnapped. Her shoulders visibly relax as she takes another bite, completely oblivious to the weight of this conversation.
I steel myself and meet Antonio’s gaze. “Valentina was taken. We don’t know why. We don’t know who was behind it. But I do know that whoever it was, they mentioned my name.”
Antonio’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpens. “And you believe that means you’re in danger as well?”
I exhale slowly. “Wouldn’t you?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a sip of his wine, his movements slow and deliberate before he finally responds. “Yes.”
A chill creeps along my spine at how effortlessly the word leaves his mouth. No doubt. No hesitation. Just cold, hard certainty.
I place my fork down carefully. “Then that means I need to know what I’m up against.”
Antonio watches me for another beat before setting his own glass down. “And what exactly are you asking of me?”
I glance at Valentina, then back at him. “Protection. For both of us.”
His gaze flickers toward Valentina, who finally seems to register the weight of what I just said. She swallows hard, her previous comfort shifting into something more cautious.
Antonio nods once. “Consider it done.”
Just like that.
I blink, caught off guard by how easily he agrees. “That’s it?”
His lips twitch slightly, as if amused by my reaction. “You’re my daughter, Nichole. You never needed to ask.”
The words land heavier than I expect, settling somewhere deep in my chest. I don’t respond, because I don’t know how to.
Instead, I focus on my plate, pushing the food around absently as the realization sinks in.
I came here for protection. And now, I have it.
Whether I’m ready for what that means… is an entirely different matter.
The night air is cool against my skin as I step onto the balcony outside my suite. The gardens stretch beneath me, illuminated by soft golden lights that line the walkways, casting long shadows over the meticulously trimmed hedges and marble fountains.
Beyond the estate walls, the city looms in the distance, a world away from where I stand now.
I grip the balcony railing, inhaling slowly. I should feel relieved.
Antonio agreed to protect us. Without hesitation, without question, as if it was already decided before I even asked. And yet, I can’t shake this feeling that everything has changed.
Valentina has already fallen into the comfort of this place, treating it like a luxurious retreat rather than a sanctuary born out of necessity.
She didn’t hesitate to sink into the warmth of the bed in her suite, or indulge in the five-star meal prepared for us without a second thought. I envy her ability to let go, to accept what’s in front of her without analyzing every possible consequence.
Because I can’t.
I press my fingers into the cool metal of the railing, my mind replaying every detail of tonight’s dinner. Antonio didn’t ask for anything in return. He didn’t push, didn’t demand my trust or my loyalty. But that’s what unsettles me the most.
This world isn’t one of generosity. Nothing comes without a price.
A quiet knock pulls me from my thoughts. I turn as the door to my suite eases open, revealing Antonio standing in the dim glow of the hallway. He doesn’t enter, simply waits at the threshold, his presence filling the space without effort.
“You should get some rest,” he says, his voice smooth but unreadable.
I nod, but I don’t move.
He watches me for a long moment before he speaks again. “You may not trust me yet,” he says evenly. “I understand that. But what I promised you tonight—I meant every word.”
A lump rises in my throat.
He doesn’t wait for a response. With a small nod, he steps back, pulling the door closed behind him.
I stare at it long after he’s gone.
Maybe I don’t trust him. Maybe I never will.
But the truth is, he’s given me no reason not to.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind tangled in too many thoughts to unravel. The weight of the evening presses against my chest—the conversation with Antonio, the effortless luxury of this place, the way everything about it feels both foreign and dangerously familiar.
I should feel like an outsider. But I don’t.
That’s what scares me the most.
I turn onto my side, the silk sheets cool against my skin. The quiet hum of the estate surrounds me—distant footsteps of patrolling guards, the faint rustle of the wind against the balcony doors.
Everything here is controlled, calculated down to the smallest detail. There’s an order to it, a rhythm I don’t yet understand but can already feel pulling me in.
Valentina sleeps soundly in the next room, unbothered, already accepting this new reality without hesitation. I envy her for that. For the ability to let go of the past and step into the present without constantly questioning what it might cost.
Because I know better.
Nothing is ever given freely.
And yet, as I close my eyes, exhaustion finally winning over, I know one thing for certain.
For now, I have no choice but to stay.
And whether I like it or not, I am a Beretti.