Chapter 19 Eleanor
Eleanor
Leonardo lies tangled in the sheets, his chest rising and falling with sleepy breaths.
He’s still here, real and solid in the gray light of morning.
Usually, I’m left with an empty bed, wondering if he regrets the strings that bind us.
But today, he’s here. I soak up the moment and the heat of his chest under my flung arm.
“Don’t look so happy, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep.
I roll away, fighting the warmth that rises to my cheeks. “Who says I’m happy. You take up a lot of space in this bed, buddy.”
His sleepy grin says he’s not buying it. He reaches out and grabs me before I can get up. “You like snuggles. Don’t be too proud to admit it.”
“You wish,” I say. “The only reason I'm glad you're still in bed is it means I get first shower.”
I wrap a sheet around me, tugging it off him, and slip off the bed.
My steps are light, careful. My fingers fumble on the bathroom door.
I glance back, a quick peek I can’t help, and find his eyes on me, half-lidded and knowing.
My pulse leaps at the quiet challenge there, at the memory of his body.
“It’s a bit too late to get prudish now.” His smirk is enormous. “After you laid everything out for me last night.”
My cheeks heat, and I turn my back and escape into the bathroom.
The tiles are cold underfoot, and I shiver. I let the water heat up and step inside the shower, shutting my eyes against the steam. Leonardo will slip away while I’m in here, the way he always does. I’ll be glad when he’s gone. Really.
But then he follows me in, and his skin is hot against my back.
“You gonna save any water for me?” he says, pressing his lips to my shoulder. I twist around to face him, and he looks at me like he did last night, like he wants more than I can ever give. Maybe that’s why he stayed, to collect the debt.
I swallow hard, and his gaze slides over me, tracking the water as it runs down my body.
“See something you like?” I try for bold, but it’s too breathless, too raw.
“I’m seeing everything I like,” he says, and my heart trips over itself. His hands move down my arms, my waist, like he’s mapping me out, staking his claim. I catch my breath and hold it tight, because any sound I make will give me away. I tilt my head up, meeting his eyes and his challenge.
The soap slips through my fingers, but Leonardo catches it.
“Here,” he says, tracing suds over my skin. “Let me.”
His touch starts slow, gliding over my neck, my shoulders.
Then lower, deliberate, stirring heat with each stroke.
I brace against the shower wall, shaking under his hands.
He knows exactly what he’s doing. The pressure of his fingers slides down my hips, my thighs.
He kneels before me, washing me inch by inch.
When his hands move between my legs, the contact jolts through me, and I lose myself in a surge of pleasure.
My pulse is wild, my breath shallow. It’s all too much, too soon after last night. I want to pull away, to hide how much I want him, how deep I’ve already fallen. But he’s watching me, his grip steady as I shatter.
“Fuck,” he says, a smile in his voice. “You’re incredible.”
I almost believe him.
Leonardo rises, pulling me into him. The shower is steaming hot, but his skin is hotter. He holds me close, his heart drumming against mine, and I want to say something, anything, to break the spell. But words tangle on my tongue. He kisses me, and I finally remember how to breathe.
His touch lingers on my waist as he reaches to rinse the suds from his hair. He thinks it’s over, that I’ve had enough, but he’s wrong.
I press him against the wall, reversing our positions, wanting to make him feel what I can’t say. He looks at me with a flash of surprise and heat. His cock is hard against my belly, and I lower myself to my knees, taking him in my hands. His breath catches, and I slide him into my mouth.
His response is electric, a sharp exhale that fuels my desire.
I move with purpose, feeling every pulse of him, the hot weight of him on my tongue.
He braces himself on the wall, trying to keep control, but I don’t let him.
Not today. His body tenses, and he groans, low and desperate, as he comes hard, his release spilling inside me. I take it all, eager and reckless.
When I look up, his eyes are dark, his grin even darker.
“My turn to get the first shower next time,” he says, pulling me to my feet.
The promise of a next time hangs between us, heavy and bright. I don’t know what to make of it, or of the way my heart jumps at the thought. He draws me in for another kiss, and it’s too much. The closeness. The heat. I can’t let him know how much I need this. How much I need him.
So instead of leaning into the kiss, I pull away. Press my hands to his chest and, with the slightest pressure, push him away. He lets me. I leave him in the shower, wrap a towel around my body as quickly as I can, then pad into the bedroom to dry off. Alone.
The restaurant swarms with sleek bodies.
I walk in, the threat of disaster snapping at my heels.
My mind is loud with questions, but I drown them out with the search for my sister.
I’d wanted Leonardo to drive me but I couldn’t find him, and it was Emilio who’d finally relented, expressionless in the driver’s seat.
Now I’m alone, scanning faces. I find her by the window, eyes wide and fearful, and all the worry I’ve kept at bay crashes through me.
My shoes clack too loudly on the floor, drawing attention I don’t want.
I duck past the clusters of people, heart racing as I close the distance between us.
She stands as I approach, tucking strands of soft, golden-blonde hair behind her ear.
A pale blue dress hangs loose on her small frame.
She looks fragile, younger than ever, and my pulse kicks with guilt. Her hug is tight but trembling.
“Juliet,” I say, holding on too long, “I’ve missed you.” It feels thin, a threadbare cover for everything else I need to say.
“I thought you’d be with him,” she replies, her voice almost lost under the chatter. “How did you get away?”
“Emilio dropped me off.”
“The quiet twin?”
“That’s the one. Leonardo was...” I search for the right word. Busy? Avoiding me? “Occupied.”
Juliet frowns, worry lines knitting her brow. She glances around like she expects him to materialize from the shadows. It strikes me how different she is, more skittish and uncertain, a shell of her usual dreamy self.
We sit, and a waiter appears before I’m ready, menus at the ready. I wave him off, unable to think about food. My mind is too full, buzzing like a downed power line.
Juliet looks broken. “What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice firm. “Tell me.”
Her hazel eyes glisten. She takes a breath, but it’s more like a shiver. “It’s awful, Eleanor. He...he’s worse than ever. Now that you’re gone, he’s watching everything I do.”
“What happened?”
Juliet drops her gaze to her hands, twisting the napkin.
“He found the money I was saving for college,” she says, voice cracking. “He took it. Canceled all my summer applications. I think he called every school to block my entry. He won’t ever let me leave. He won’t let me do anything.”
Each word sinks into me like a stone. I see father, his cold smile as he tells me I’m leaving to be a bride, a pawn in his game. He didn’t care then, and he doesn’t care now. He’ll cage Juliet as long as it suits him.
“He can’t do this,” I say, but my conviction is weak. “I won’t let him. I’m going to find a way to get you out.”
Her eyes search mine, desperate and unbelieving. “How?”
I grab her hands, stop the twisting, hold them steady. “The Rosettis have connections. More than connections. Power. If I can convince them to help...”
My words trail off, but the thought remains.
The last thing I wanted for my life was a mafia family, full of violence and crime.
Even when I married in, I didn’t want to become part of it.
Swore I’d never ask for anything, never owe them anything.
Since then, I’ve slowly formed friendships with Carmela, Matteo, even quiet Emilio and scary Dom.
I haven’t cracked Rafe yet, but we have a quiet respect for one another.
Then there’s Leonardo. The memory of last night burns away my hesitation. Who am I kidding? I’m already neck deep in this family.
I set my jaw. “I’ll figure something out. I promise.”
Juliet blinks, a single tear slipping free. “What if you can’t? What if you’re stuck there, and I’m stuck here, and we never—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “Don’t even think it. I will get you out. Whatever it takes.”
She nods, the motion small and unconvincing. Her faith in me has always been blind, but it’s never been this brittle. We sit in the crowded bistro, surrounded by laughter and oblivious strangers. The rest of the world carries on while ours crumbles.
“You’re so brave, Eleanor,” she says, and it feels like an accusation. I’m the one who left her behind.
“You’re the brave one. Holding out against him all this time.”
“I can’t hold out much longer.”
Her admission tears through me, fierce and unforgiving. I tighten my grip on her hands and her hope. “Just a little while,” I say, “and I’ll be back. I swear.”
She forces a nod, but it crumbles into a sob.
“Juliet,” I murmur, squeezing her hands, trying to anchor her to the promise I can barely keep. “You know I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t think I was protecting you.”
“I know,” she whispers.
Her words hang heavy between us. I look at her, and I see everything I left to protect. Her small hands in mine. Her tearful resolve. I see all the ways I’ve failed her and all the ways I still might. It’s a new kind of desperation, one that makes my reckless promise burn brighter.
“You can’t tell father we met,” I say. “Or that you spoke to me.”
She hesitates, and I see the fear in her eyes. She doesn’t just fear our father. She fears I’m not coming back. Her nod is more of a question. It hurts to see her so unsure. It hurts more knowing I put that uncertainty there.
“I miss you,” she says, and the words break something open inside me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep it together. “I miss you, too. But you’ll be with me soon.”
The confidence I force into the words is more than I feel. I’ve left her defenseless against father’s whims, the way he left me defenseless against Leonardo’s. It’s a cruelty I never thought I was capable of, but here we are.
She bites her lip, fighting back tears. It’s the same fight I’m waging. We sit there, our hands tangled, our plans collapsing around us while the noise of the restaurant presses in.
“What’s it like?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Being with the Rosettis. Being with Leonardo.” I look at her, startled by the question.
I think of Leonardo, his touch, his wild grin.
My heart trips over itself, and Juliet catches the stumble.
“You like him,” she says. Not an accusation. Not a question. But a surprise.
“It’s complicated.” The understatement of a lifetime.
“Does he know?”
I shake my head. “I don’t like him, okay. I just don’t loathe him as much as I expected.”
Her face brightens. “Well, that’s something.”
Yes, it certainly is something.