Page 21 of Little Deer
I shake my head and smile slightly. Yeah, there goes my imagination again. Living in a fake world in my head isn’t going to help any of this. I need to remember that this might look pretty, but it’s hiding dark secrets that few in the outside world will ever know.
I look down at Soren and watch as he pulls away, clearly having had his fill. I smile at him, lowering my shirt before positioning him to burp.
I never knew if I’d be a good mother, but Soren’s made it easy. Sure, it’s still frustrating, draining, and utterly maddening at times, but then he smiles at me and it makes it worth it.
Well, except for the blowouts. Those are fucking nasty and I could definitely live without them. And I probably won’t be able to con Kida into changing and bathing him after another one like I did the last time. She didn’t speak to me for two days after that disaster. Still, worth it. I only had to worry about the laundry at least.
That was the one time we figured out that me eating fish was a bad idea.
Once Soren burps, he lets out a loud sigh of contentment, and I smile. Alright, time to change him and see what they gave us for clothes. Then I’m getting up and getting out of this room. It’s quiet, and maybe our guard has fallen asleep. I’m alsostarving. Despite all the food Kida and Zeno brought back last night, I didn’t have much of an appetite for it, so Kida ate most of it, while the two of us talked. Now, I’m ravenous.
I ease out of bed, leaving Soren on the bed in case I’m still not steady, and while my knees shake just a little bit, I’m feeling much steadier than I did yesterday. Good progress. Picking up Soren, I carry him into the bathroom after grabbing some supplies, and I gape at what I see.
Holy shit. This place is just as stunning as the main room. Where the other room seemed to really like the gothic look, this was a much more modern-looking bathroom, though it still had some gothic elements. The room is covered in dark swirling marble tile, but the gothic architecture covers the ceiling, and another two of those chandeliers also dangle in here. The vanity is one long piece with two inset sinks, a long rectangle mirror spreads across it, and across the room is a toilet, a separate tub and a shower. The shower is a mixture of glass and tile, with dual fancy showerheads coming from either end and a long bench along the wall. The tub is large, deep, and has a large ledge around. It looks like a dream.
When I look on the other side of the bathroom door I see another door that when I open it leads into a huge walk-in closet. I step inside, and gawk at it. It’s just as long as the bathroom, though narrower, and boasts shelves, drawers, and racks all around the room, other than a vanity with a large mirror at the far end. In the center of it is a small island full of drawers, and a large rectangular ottoman that could double as a bed for someone.
The racks have suits hanging from them, and some of the shelves and drawers look to be full. Guess Massimo doesn’t have enough clothes to fill this place. Not that I’m surprised. This place would take forever to fill if you were just one person.
I step back out and look down at Soren. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, are we?” I murmur as I shut the bathroom door behind us. It doesn’t take me long to get him changed and dressed, then I focus on getting myself cleaned up and finding some clothes that fit me in the small pile that Sofia left for us. I eventually settle on some black yoga pants, an oversized dark gray shirt, and a new nursing bra with the tags still on it. I blink at that, but I don’t question it. I don’t want to wear my old one, and I need something or I’ll be leaking all over the place.
When I’m dressed, I find a pair of black flats and slip them on my feet. They fit, but I try to remind myself they probably checked my sizes when they were getting me all cleaned up in the first place. Dressed and freshened up, I pull my damp hair back into a simple braid, and grab the baby sling that’s hanging on the back of the door and get Soren settled in.
When I leave the bathroom, Kida is still fast asleep, the blankets up over her face and only her dark hair peeking out on the pillow. I roll my eyes and head for the door. Kida’s always been the one of the two of us who can sleep through anything if she’s tired enough. Clearly, this is one of those times. And heaven help you if you wake her up before she’s ready. She’s a bitch with a capital B.
I quietly turn the knob, poking my head out to look around. I nearly jump when I see the man standing against the wall just on the other side of the door. He looks at me in surprise, but then he gives me a quick nod, before turning his attention back to the phone in his hand. “Oh, um, hello,” I whisper as I quietly shut the door behind me.
“Good morning,signora,” the man murmurs back with a thick Italian accent. He’s an older man, maybe in his mid-fifties, with mostly still dark hair, gray along his temples, wearing a simple black suit, and kind dark eyes. If I saw him on the street I would think he was a businessman. The difference is the obviousgun in the sling at his waist when he shifts and his suit coat opens a bit more. He looks at the swaddle and a soft smile pulls at his lips. “You are both hungry, yes?”
“Oh, um, I am, but he’s good now,” I say awkwardly. “I was hoping I could get something to eat from the kitchen if you could direct me.”
He nods. “Just down the hall, take two rights, and then down the stairs and another right. You will find your way to the kitchen. Your sister, she is still sleeping?” I nod. “I shall direct her to you if she wakes then,” he promises.
“Oh, ah, thank you.” I take a hesitant step forward, almost half expecting him to stop me, but he just smiles at me and then looks back at his phone. I keep walking, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s still in the same position, seemingly absorbed in whatever he’s looking at, but I get the sense that he’s all too aware of where I am and how fast it would take to get to me.
I keep moving down the hall, taking in the large doors to multiple rooms, the dark tiled floors covered with a dark red floor runner, and the expensive artwork covering the walls. This place is dripping with money, but there’s an undercurrent of darkness, of something omenous. It sends a small shiver down my spine and I place a protective hand over Soren, as if that will be enough to protect him.
I finally reach the end of the hall, just as a door to my right opens. I turn my head quickly, and see Massimo stepping out of the room, looking awake, in a fresh suit, and far more handsome than should be allowed this early in the morning. Behind him, I hear someone saying something, but I can’t make out what or who it is. Massimo looks a little surprised to see me, but then his lips pull up into a warm smile. “Buongiorno, Lucy,” he greets, shutting the door.
“Hello,” I say softly, looking up at him. His dark blonde hair is tousled and damp, his beard well groomed and I get the faint scent of his aftershave as he moves closer.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks me, watching me. Then he looks at Soren and his eyes soften. “And I hope theomettogot lots of it too.”
“He actually slept more than I thought he would,” I admit. “What doesomettomean?” I mangle the word, but he’s nice enough not to call me on it.
“It means little man in Italian. I always forget just how small babies can be.”
A snort escapes me. “That’s such a man response.” I shake my head. “You’re not the one pushing out their giant heads.”
Massimo chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners slightly as his smile widens. “No, you are right. Which is exactly why Italian men thank theirmadresfor the rest of their lives as penance.” I smile, unable to help myself. Before I can reply to that, my stomach growls angrily, and I flush in embarrassment. “Come, let us get you something to eat,” Massimo immediately announces, motioning for me to follow him. “If we’re lucky, Sofia is cooking this morning and we’ll get something really delicious.”
“Does Sofia cook a lot?” As we walk, I realize that I could indeed get lost in this house. Holy shit it’s like a maze in here. I’m going to need to draw myself a map just to find my way back to our room. Or, well, Massimo’s room.
“Nico has a chef, but while we’ve been here she’s been the one cooking for us mostly because she knows we have a soft spot for it,” Massimo explains with a fond smile. “Her mother was a goddess in the kitchens. I remember being a young boy and sneaking to her house just for some sweets before the others. And she always gave it to me too,” he adds proudly with a grin.“Told me at least I was charming her and not some stupid girl who wanted me for my money.”
I glance up at him. Something tells me that he was still doing that too, but I keep that thought to myself. “And Sofia took after her mother’s cooking ability?”
“Don’t tell her father, but I think Sofia perfected a lot of those recipes. Her tiramisu? I’d kill a thousand men for it.”
