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Crossing my legs as I sit at the end of the bed, I take in my surroundings. A pale, dusty pink paint covers the wall, cream curtains hang around the window, and hardwood flooring shines on the ground. All the furnishings in here are made from solid oak, from the closet and drawers, the bedside tables, to the desk in the corner of the room and the bedframe beneath me. The cream colored satin sheets crinkle underneath my body. The softness is a dream against my skin as I pull apart my gun again, inspecting it.
It’s cute as hell in here, nothing like the bland holding cell I was expecting. Shit, I’ve had worse bedrooms in general. As a child, nothing was ever mine or just for me. It was always pieced together by my mother, with occasional input from my father whenever he made an appearance.
Shaking my head, I focus on the task at hand. Once I’m satisfied, I tuck the weapon back into the pocket of my oversized blazer. After my shower, my only option was to step back into the clothes I’ve been wearing all day. Maybe in the morning, when I reconfirm my lifespan with the De Lucas, I could discuss the alternatives.
My cell vibrates in my other pocket again. It’s been going off more than usual, and after the first glance when I saw a message from Luna, I didn’t bother looking again. I don’t need her pity or worry about my safety. I signed up for this, we all did, and we know exactly how this goes.
Maybe when I don’t feel guilt from her concern, I will look at them, but right now, I just can’t face it. Who knew a simple emotion could cripple me so much?
“I don’t care what you say. The light is on. I can see it under the door.” There’s no mistaking Nonna’s voice. She sounds as if she’s standing toe-to-toe with the door.
“Not my problem.” That sounds like Matteo, but he’s not as close to the door as she is.
As much as I’ve heard them in passing, this is the first time I’ve felt anyone this close, and within the next second, the lock is turning and Nonna is standing in the open space.
A wide smile spreads across her face as she keeps one hand on the door handle and the other balls into a fist and rests on her hips. “Come, eat.” Two words. An order, not a request, even with it spoken so kindly and softly, yet I still falter, hesitating in my spot as I look up at her. When I seem to take a moment too long, she quirks her brow at me. “Please, you’ll regret hesitating when you get a taste of my famous cannelloni.” Her Italian accent thickens as she says cannelloni.
Her sass is amusing and I can’t deny that I love it.
With a roll of my eyes, I rise to my feet, moving toward her with my gun and phone secured in my pocket, and as soon as I get within an arm’s reach, she’s linking her arm through mine and dragging me down the hall. The kitchen comes into view to the right as Nonna hums happily beside me.
The guys are sitting at the dining table at the far end of the room beside the patio doors leading out into the garden, but I ignore them and take in the kitchen first.
It’s rustic, with cream cabinets and an olive green paint on the walls, which matches the wooden worktops perfectly. The terracotta tiles on the floor completes the vibe as a chandelier hangs above the dining table. Countertops frame the room with an island set in the center, and with the amount of pots and pans scattered around, it seems Nonna likes to use every inch of space available to her.
My gaze finally returns to the three brothers glaring at me from across the room as Nonna shuffles us toward them. I have to clamp my lips shut when I realize not one of them is wearing a suit, not even Matteo.
Vito is wearing a fitted black t-shirt with a pair of matching shorts. Sweat beads at his temple, and his veins protrude on his arms, hinting that he’s been working out since I last saw him. But what holds my attention the most are the scars that are scattered all up his wrists to his elbow, each one as deep as the next, resembling those that also frame his neck.
Enzo looks hot as ever with gray sweatpants and a matching tee. His mousy-blond hair is curled behind his ear as usual, but the mischief that usually shines in his eyes isn’t there.
Matteo is the one who catches me off-guard. I’ve seen the other two undo something when wearing a suit, hinting that it’s not their favorite choice of clothing, but he’s usually the one who remains poised and held together. Not now, though. In a black polo top and a pair of jeans, he almost looks like a different man altogether.
If they sense me taking them in from head to toe, not one of them utters a word as I sit across from Enzo, where Nonna places me before she takes the seat to my left, facing Matteo.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip as I look up through my lashes at Enzo, watching as annoyance hoods over his gaze. The smell of hot food makes my stomach rumble, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything since last night.
When I reach for my cutlery, no one says a word until my hands are poised, ready to bring a forkful of the cannelloni to my mouth.
“Hostages shouldn’t be sitting with us at the table while we eat, Nonna.” The disdain on Matteo’s tongue is undeniable, and Nonna scoffs at him in response.
“We don’t hold hostages around here, Matteo. They’re either dead or they’re not, and as far as I can see, her heart is still working.” She clicks her tongue, like that’s the end to that, and it’s my turn to scoff as I shake my head at her.
“My heart has never worked, but I’m still breathing,” I correct, before taking my first bite of her cannelloni. I groan with satisfaction at the deliciousness in my mouth, making Nonna smile from ear to ear as she waves her fork at me.I told you soflashes in her eyes, but she keeps it off her lips, and I appreciate it as I dig into my food.
Surprisingly, no one comments, and we continue to eat in silence. Every nerve in my body is vibrating with awareness, my past making it impossible to relax when I know my life still hangs in the balance. My right hand keeps drifting to my pocket, feeling the weight of my gun like a safety net, until I clear my plate.
I murmur my thanks to Nonna before turning my full attention to the De Luca brothers across from me. Now that there’s food in my system, I’m more than ready to leave the table again, but there’s one thing on my mind first.
“So, I’m wondering what the likelihood of me dying in the next twenty-four hours is? Because if the odds are low, I would appreciate an alternative set of clothes.” I quirk my eyebrow as I look at Enzo first, before trailing my gaze over to Matteo, then Vito.
“Maybe I would prefer you in none,” Enzo blurts with a smirk before clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his seat. I have to bite back a smile as Nonna chuckles beside me.
“We did. Things changed. Remember?” Matteo’s terse tone makes my body tense, but I keep it hidden, not wanting them to see my reaction.
“I don’t recall at all since I wasn’t there,” Nonna interjects before twisting in her seat to face me. “So, I will most definitely help you with some clothes tomorrow.” Her warm smile relaxes my shoulders, making me smile at her in response.
“Thank you,” I breathe, an understanding flashing between us, which is crazy since this is the most fucked-up shit I’ve been involved in for a while.
