Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

15 | Nina

I can tell there's something going on with the number of meetings and phone calls Massimo and Santo seem to be engaged in. Santo is gone a lot, coming back with busted knuckles and a bruised face. Samuel is often over, along with a horde of other men with expensive suits and dangerous looking haircuts. Don't ask me how a haircut can make a man look dangerous; if it oozes just the right amount of wealth and indifference, it just can. I'm sure this increased activity has to do with Luciano, but something keeps me from asking about it.

I can pretend like I don't know what that something is, but I do. It's fear.

I'm having... fun. For the first time in my life, I don't feel miserable or trapped. It's completely bizarre, and I'd never voice this to anyone, because they'd probably think there's something severely wrong with me. I feel freer than I ever have when I'm being held hostage?

Yeah. That sounds perfectly sane and normal.

I don't want to know what's going on with Luciano, because I feel more like a human in the Romano mansion than I ever did growing up. Somehow, the sociopathic Capo, the beautiful killer with obvious anger issues, the man-whore who makes a comment about my tits every other time I see him, and the boy who's killed more people than I've had friends have become tolerable people to live with.

Well, I'm still terrified of Massimo. I don't trust him, especially now. He seems to feel the same way about me, acting colder towards me than ever before and staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking.

Santo's brothers are a small part of the reason for my confusing emotions. They don't make my pulse race, the blood in my veins heat, and all thoughts exit my brain in a frustrating puff whenever they enter the room.

No, that's all Santo's doing. Every glare, every poorly veiled threat makes me stand a little taller and solidifies my resolution to keep getting under his skin. I'm not sure why I'm trying to settle there, like this house is where I belong, or why I trust him with things like my basic safety, when he's proved to me time and time again what he's capable of. There are things about him that make me curious, that I find my brain wandering to when it's late and I can't sleep. That mysterious tattoo. The small 'S' I noticed on his wrist, looking like it was branded there, like one does to cattle. The way his eyes burn lethally when he returns to the mansion after a few days' absence, sometimes covered in blood and sometimes clean as a whistle.

How often he might do certain things that are self-destructive because he likes the pain.

"You trying to make us gain weight?" Tommaso smirks when he enters the kitchen to find me bent in front of the oven with a tray of whatever baked good has captured my fancy that day. This time it's muffins. I've been baking to rid myself of the boredom that plagues me most days.

I shrug. "Maybe I'll be able to finally escape one day. Outrun your fat ass."

Tommaso barks out a laugh, reaching for a muffin and biting into it, despite it being piping hot. "I knew you'd be a stellar personal chef. You are a woman, after all."

My eyes narrow. "You know what, maybe I poisoned those."

Tommaso stops mid-chew.

"Nina." The Capo enters the kitchen, immediately sucking all the air out of the room.

Tommaso shrugs and grabs another muffin, shooting me a wink before exiting.

I gulp. "What's wrong? I know I'm baking a lot these days, and that's a lot of processed sugar, but I can make some low sugar options if y—"

"Come with me." He doesn't wait to see if I'm following before he turns and exits the room. I scramble to catch up, following him up the winding steps and all the way to the room I've been sleeping in.