Chapter 5: Inhabitants of the De Santi mansion (2)

CAT

I open the door to Nico's worried face. I almost think he is actually worried about me after how I blazed out of the dining room but when I process that thought, I nearly scoff. It has to be an act. There's no way I could ever believe he gives an actual shit about me.

He may not be the one who jabbed a needle into me and kidnapped me but he is a De Santi nonetheless. He is as cold and ruthless as the rest of them, maybe even more. Nico probably has more skeletons in his closet than the cemetery. Like some of the most ruthless villains, he probably only knows how to hide it perfectly under that practiced and perfected smile.

"What?" I snap, then I immediately realize that shouldn't have been my reaction. I shouldn't be getting off on the wrong foot with him.

If he is my ticket out of this hellhole, I should make him think I consider him to be different from his brothers. That I trust him. I should win him over and make him think we are friends. It sounds so ridiculous in my head that I almost laugh out loud, but Nico speaks and saves me from any embarrassment.

"Somebody's got her claws out. And they're as sharp as I thought." He grins, nudging me out of the way to bring in the huge platter he's balancing on one hand. It's covered, but I can still smell an alluring buttery aroma emanating from it.

I frown. "I just had breakfast. Downstairs."

He sets the platter on the nightstand on the left of the bed and sits on the bed. "A few bites of bacon and two sips of coffee doesn't count. Plus, you missed Luna's cornettos al cioccolato."

Little horns to the chocolate?

It takes a while to figure out what Nico means. "Oh, chocolate croissants!"

He looks amused. "You're Italian, right? Rossi?"

I nod and then shake my head, and then nod again. I was born and raised right here in New York. My adoptive father was Italian but the only person who actually spoke the language was Nonna. I didn't pick up much, not even food vocabulary despite spending endless hours cooking with her.

Still, I don't need the De Santis knowing they could completely blindside me by having all their conversations in Italian.

Nico doesn't push it. He uncovers the platter and takes a long whiff of the food. "Fresnly baked, with lots of chocolate and the best in the world. Just the way I like it. Come on." He nudges me to take one.

I don't know if this is a good idea. A De Santi privately offering me food? It could have arsenic in it for all I know.

But what the hell? I just had breakfast with them. It wouldn't be hard to make their maids rub poison all over the rim of my cup. Besides, I'm starting to believe William is more likely to shoot me in the face, if Alma doesn't stab me with her fork first. Then there's Esteban. He would slit my throat in the blink of an eye. In such a den of monsters, food should be the least of my concerns.

I take a bite and when the sweet, buttery taste explodes into my mouth, I have to agree with Nico. These are indeed the best croissants I've had since Nonna died.

"You like it?" He asks with a smile. "Luna is the best. Wait until you taste any of her dinner specialties. She may not be Italian but she can cook an Italian feast like she was born in Bologna."

I smile. Now that he mentioned it, I ask something I've been curious about. "What about your mom? I'm pretty sure I heard her call someone mijo."

He is silent for so long that I think he wont answer me, but he does. "Her family's Spanish."

I nod. It's only three words—three significant words. He may be loyal to his family but I can still subtly dig around for information. Enough to run away, I hope.

Which means I can't ask about this mansion or its security. I have to tread carefully. Talk about topics he won't think would be helpful in the least bit.

It's manipulative but I don't care. Who knows? Maybe he was sent to do the same to me. Poke around and find out what I know and what parts of me can be more useful to them in their insane plan.

There were three croissants on the platter, we reach for the last one at the same time. I retract my hand at the same time as he does.

"I was going to cut it in half." He explains, then changes his mind. "You can have it. I'm pretty sure I can get Luna to give me one more later."

"Are you sure?" I hesitate.

"Of course. I'm her favorite." He winks.

That's not what I meant but okay.

By the time I've wolfed down the treat, I am sated, which means I now have time to think about the horrible twist my life has taken.

"Hey, Nico…" I start, then I trail off.

I shouldn't. He will probably rush back to his brother like a tattletale. When I realize he's looking at me, waiting for whatever I have to say, I smile. "Thank you for the croissants."

He doesn't bite. "What's on your mind, Snow?"

"Nothing." I lie.

He raises his brow , subtly letting me know he doesn't believe me. I'm not a good liar most of the time. I must be flushing and averting my gaze without even knowing it.

I catch sight of the empty platter in my periphery and shrug in the end. What's the worst that could happen? He could simply say no and that wouldn't be tragic.

I try not to wring my hands as I say, "my family must be worried about me. I simply disappeared. Is there any chance you could…lend me your phone to tell them I'm okay?"

He doesn't even need to think about it. "No."

I expected that answer, but I'm still deflated. I'm not self-absorbed enough to think he will side with me after only knowing me for about ten minutes, against his own family. That doesn't stop disappointment from coursing through me.

He leaves soon after, not bearing the awkward silence that has settled in between us. A few minutes later, the door opens again.

I think it's Nico and I'm about to joke about how fast he changed his mind when I see the incomer—the woman who looks like she would enjoy skinning me alive.

"Oh, it's you." I don't hide my scoff.

Alma shuts the door behind her and leans against it, arms crossed. "Stay away from my sons."

Now I am pissed.

How dare she?

"I don't even want to be here. How about you tell your dearest sons to stay away from me? They could take me back home for starters."

She looks like I slapped her in the face. She probably has the world at her fingertips and no one has ever said no to her, but she's not getting that amount of compliance from me. She has no right to be furious. What did she think, that I'm her little pet just because her sons brought me here? Hell, the only thing I want from her sons is my freedom.

She takes a few steps towards me and I stand, not wanting her to catch me off-guard with an attack.

That's not what she has in mind. She's staring at me like something she would find at the bottom of her Louboutins. "Look. You are not in your home with your dearest mama and papa. You are in De Santi territory. You will follow the rules."

I cut her off. "I'm sorry. Do I look like a De Santi to you?" I almost laugh at her frown. "I thought so. William De Santi is not the boss of me. Unlike you, I don't answer to him."

She doesn't respond. She opens the door and leaves, but not without shooting me a smirk that tells me she's about to make my life a living hell.

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