Page 60 of Merciless Queen

Zeno immediately drags me away from the doorway, his clench tighter than earlier. I jerk my arm, meaning both for him to release me, or at the very least, loosen his hold. He pushes me toward the right staircase, and I trip on the bottom step, matching his scowl with my own.

“Asshole,” I grumble, righting myself, but ask, “What kind of dog is that?” I don’t recognize the slim body and short fur of any particular breed. In my defense, I gave up researching any animals because it all resulted in the same answer from Papa.

“A Doberman,” he answers after a moment, almost like he wishes he didn’t at all. “She’s…”

His sentence goes unfinished and halfway up the stairs, I lean back, forcing him to stop and answer with my prompted, “Yes?”

“Never mind.” We’re back to that scowl again.

At the top of the tiled steps, he nudges me to the left, suddenly in a rush to put me wherever his cruel mind has decided to make my dungeon for the time being. I imagine some empty, white room where he’ll leave me to rot and stare at the walls while my mind slowly drifts away.

Unfortunate for him, my Elite should find me long before the threat of that even begins.

The short hallway we’re in connects with a few shut doors. Only one is open and I make sure to peek inside as he propels me by, revealing a dog bed and other assorted pet items. His pet having a room all to herself is…sweet. Heartwarming in a way I wish I could ignore.

We reach a set of double, shut wooden doors that have a similar filigree design as the front entrance, and he opens them before shoving me inside.

I trip to an upright stance and take in the decently large room. It’s no stone-walled room with chains and dirty cement, but it’s also not a plain, white room meant to fuck up my mental stability. Instead, it’s an actual bedroom. Equipped with windows that showcase the vast property, a king-sized bed covered in tan bedding that’s the exact shade of the exterior villa’s walls, and an ensuite bathroom at the other end. There’s a couple of padded chairs scattered around and a footstool. Seems like a guest bedroom.

“No cage? I’m honoured.”

Silently, Zeno approaches. My stance remains firm because he’s already shown his hand at this point. If he was planning on hurting me, he would have by now.

He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out another key, this one much smaller. He shows it to me before grasping the small chain tying my cuffs together and unlocks them, freeing my wrists entirely. The metal drops with a light thud between our feet, and he turns away without retrieving them.

With his back to me, he says, “You gave me a bed while I was healing. Suppose I can repay you the same way.”

“Seems the Cosa Nostra needs some training on torture methods then because you’ve missed the mark. If I’m not here to die, I’m here for another reason.”

He peeks over his shoulder, his mouth pulling up to one side as though we’re discussing a more pleasant topic, if it wasn’t for the evil gleam there too. “That you are.”

He reaches the door, and my stomach lurches. The drive to save myself forces the next words from my mouth. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Zeno, it’s that fighting won’t get me out of here. Words will. Attacking him at this point does little when his guard is up, and there’s still so much to understand.

“An answer for an answer?”

He turns with my offer, head tipping to the side. “I have places to be, so make it quick.”

“If you’re keeping me alive, why am I here?” I gesture to the room. “In your house? In Rome?”

“You’ll learn soon.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“But it’s the only one you’re getting.”

Dick.There’s another answer I need more than anything. The fact Ivan was so close to handing over, and the only missing piece in this confusing ass puzzle Papa designed long before his death. Thewhyin all this. Not why Zeno took me, but why our families are even at war and what’s causing Zeno to continue the campaign against the Bratva.

There’s another question that comes instead. One I might have briefly wondered over the past twenty-four hours but also one not remotely important. “Was everything in my bedroom real or was that a giant act as well?”

Did you play a role just to appeal to me?He was the perfect submissive so if it was a performance, then it was a damn well executed one. And that’ll make this hurt more.

Zeno tenses, as though readying for an argument. “Other than lying about my identity, everything else was the truth.”

Which means?—

“What did your father do to make you despise him so much?” His rapidly fired question interrupts my line of thinking, but perhaps it’s a good thing. To remain focused, everything occurring that night needs to remain an error in my past and nothing to resonate on.

“It doesn’t matter.”

---