Chapter 6: The Answer He Couldn't Give

“You are…”

Luca stopped.

I waited.

One second.

Two.

Five.

Nothing.

His eyes stayed on mine, but whatever answer had been sitting behind them disappeared.

I hated that.

Not because I wanted to know what I was to him.

I didn't.

I just hated the way he looked at me like there was something about me I hadn't been told.

I pushed my chair back slightly.

“Forget it.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I didn't say you could leave.”

I almost laughed.

“Of course you didn't.”

I stood anyway.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Luca spoke.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“Don't make this difficult.”

I stared at him.

“You kidnapped me. I think we're way past difficult.”

Something flashed across his face.

Annoyance.

Maybe.

But there was something else underneath it.

Something I couldn't name.

I turned toward the door.

“I'm done with dinner.”

“Sit.”

I stopped.

Not because of his voice.

Because of the way he said it.

There was something different in it this time.

Not an order.

A warning.

I slowly turned back.

“Why?”

He didn't answer.

“Why do you care whether I sit here or not?”

Silence.

“Why do you care whether I eat?”

Nothing.

“Why do you keep looking at me like you know me?”

His expression changed.

Just slightly.

But I saw it.

And that was enough.

I stepped closer to the table.

“You do know me.”

Luca's eyes remained fixed on mine.

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

I frowned.

“You're lying.”

“I don't lie.”

I let out a humorless laugh.

“That's probably the funniest thing you've said since I got here.”

His face remained blank.

But his fingers tightened around the glass in front of him.

There.

Another crack.

Tiny.

But real.

I pointed at him.

“You know something about me.”

He said nothing.

“You knew I was afraid yesterday.”

His eyes didn't move.

“You knew I was angry today.”

Still nothing.

“And you keep looking at me like you're waiting for me to remember something.”

His gaze sharpened.

My heartbeat stumbled.

I hadn't meant to say that last part.

But the second it left my mouth, I knew I'd hit something.

“What am I supposed to remember?” I asked.

Luca slowly placed the glass down.

“You ask too many questions.”

“Then give me an answer.”

“You're not ready.”

“For what?”

He stood.

My body immediately tensed.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn't come closer.

Instead, he walked toward the end of the table and stopped beside one of the chairs.

“There are things you don't know about your life.”

My stomach dropped.

“What things?”

He looked at me.

“Things that made you a target.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

“A target for who?”

He didn't answer.

“Luca.”

His eyes hardened.

“Don't say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you trust me.”

I stared at him.

“I don't.”

“Good.”

His response came almost instantly.

“Because trusting me will get you hurt.”

I swallowed.

For the first time since dinner started, I didn't have a smart answer.

He walked toward the door.

I followed him with my eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with a problem.”

“What problem?”

He stopped at the door.

Then looked back at me.

“You.”

My eyebrows pulled together.

“Excuse me?”

“You're the problem.”

Then he walked out.

The doors shut behind him.

I stood there for a few seconds, completely stunned.

Then I laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because if I didn't laugh, I might actually lose my mind.

“Unbelievable.”

I looked around the empty dining room.

“You kidnap someone and then call them a problem.”

I grabbed my glass and took a sip.

It was water.

At least they hadn't poisoned me.

Small victories.

I set it down.

Then I heard something.

A sound from behind the wall.

I froze.

It came again.

A faint metallic click.

I looked toward the dining room doors.

Nothing.

Another click.

This time, it came from somewhere behind me.

I slowly turned.

There was a large painting on the wall.

An old man.

Dark suit.

Cold eyes.

I had noticed it earlier but hadn't paid attention.

Now something about it felt wrong.

I stepped closer.

The painting was slightly crooked.

I frowned.

I reached toward it.

Before my fingers touched the frame—

“Don't.”

I jumped.

Marco stood at the entrance.

I turned sharply.

“You scared me.”

His expression didn't change.

“Step away from that.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I stared at him.

“You and Luca really need new lines.”

He didn't smile.

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Your room.”

“I can walk there myself.”

“Then walk.”

He turned.

I followed, but my mind stayed on the painting.

There was something behind it.

I was sure of it.

And now I wanted to know what.

---

By the time I reached my room, the mansion had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Marco opened the door.

“Stay here.”

I folded my arms.

“Why?”

“Because Luca said so.”

“Does he ever say anything else?”

Marco looked at me.

“Plenty.”

“Like?”

He paused.

“Things you don't want to hear.”

Then he left.

The door closed.

I stared at it.

I waited.

Nothing.

I walked toward the window.

Outside, the grounds were surrounded by tall iron gates.

Two guards stood near the entrance.

There was no way out.

I stepped away from the window.

Then I noticed something on the floor.

A small piece of paper.

I frowned.

I hadn't seen it earlier.

I bent down and picked it up.

There was only one sentence written on it.

Stop asking questions.

My heart began beating faster.

I looked toward the door.

Nobody.

I turned the paper over.

Nothing.

Then I heard footsteps in the hallway.

I quickly shoved the paper beneath my pillow.

The door opened.

Luca walked in.

He closed it behind him.

His eyes immediately found mine.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

He stared at me.

“You're lying.”

I almost smiled.

“Funny. I thought you didn't lie.”

His expression hardened.

“Where is it?”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“The paper.”

I said nothing.

His eyes moved toward the bed.

I didn't move.

He walked closer.

“Give it to me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't.”

One word.

Quiet.

But dangerous.

I reached beneath my pillow and pulled out the paper.

I held it up.

His face changed the moment he saw it.

Not anger.

Fear.

Real fear.

And suddenly, I knew this wasn't about me asking too many questions.

Something was happening.

Something he hadn't planned for.

I lowered the paper.

“Who wrote this?”

He didn't answer.

“Luca.”

He walked over and took the paper from my hand.

His eyes scanned the words.

Then he crumpled it.

“What is going on?”

He looked at me.

For the first time, I didn't see the cold man everyone seemed afraid of.

I saw someone who was trying very hard not to lose control.

“You shouldn't have seen this.”

“That's not an answer.”

“I know.”

“Then answer me.”

He stepped closer.

“Someone knows you're here.”

My blood ran cold.

“What?”

“They weren't supposed to.”

“Who?”

His eyes met mine.

“I don't know yet.”

A horrible silence settled between us.

Then, somewhere downstairs—

A loud crash echoed through the mansion.

Luca's head snapped toward the door.

His entire expression changed.

“Stay here.”

I grabbed his arm before I could stop myself.

“What's happening?”

He looked down at my hand.

Then back at me.

“Someone just got inside.”

My fingers went cold.

“Who?”

He gently pulled my hand away.

“I'll find out.”

He opened the door.

Then stopped.

Without turning around, he said,

“And whatever you hear…”

A pause.

“Do not open this door.”

Then he disappeared into the hallway.

I stood there staring at the empty doorway.

For once, I didn't argue.

I didn't make a joke.

I didn't even breathe properly.

Because for the first time since I came to this mansion—

I was beginning to wonder if Luca De Santis wasn't the most dangerous person inside it.