Chapter 34 Leonardo
Leonardo
He emerges from the office tower like a king, surrounded by his men, coat billowing behind him.
His eyes find me instantly, narrowing to a glare that could curdle milk.
I smile, widening my stance and tilting my chin.
His bodyguards are large and expressionless, flanking him like cement blocks.
I see the moment they recognize me, the flicker of understanding in their eyes that stretches into a second of respect.
They look to Price for instruction, but I’m already stepping forward.
“Mind if I borrow Mr. Price?” I ask. The corner of my mouth curves up like I’ve told some kind of joke. His men pause, and then they give me what I want—a nod, a retreat.
Richard seethes as I move closer. “I’m busy today, Rossetti,” he says.
“I’m not,” I reply, leading him to the black SUV.
The street is chaos around us. Cars honking, engines roaring.
People move like ants on the sidewalk, buzzing in every direction.
The midday heat is crawling inside my suit.
I don’t like crowds. I don’t like waiting even more.
I glance at the driver through the open window, a silent signal. He nods and revs the engine.
“What’s so urgent?” Richard asks, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.
I open the door, gesture for him to get in. “I want to have a word about Eleanor.”
His mouth tightens at his daughter’s name. “I don’t have time for this,” he says, but he looks at his men and waves them off.
“I’m making time for you, Richard.” My voice is low, patient. I can wait him out forever if I have to.
His eyes narrow, trying to read me. But the man who raised Eleanor knows how to hide his weakness. He throws his hands up in mock surrender and climbs in.
I get in after him, a shark closing in on a goldfish.
He adjusts his cuffs as I slide in beside him and close the door, shutting out the city’s noise. “I hope you don’t plan to bore me with tales of your wife’s misbehavior,” he says. “She’s your problem now.”
The driver eases into traffic. I turn my attention to the passing streets, the grimy storefronts and cracked sidewalks, each mile marker dragging Price further from his comfort zone. I want him squirming, unsure. I’m nowhere near done with him yet.
“What do you want, Rossetti?” Richard leans back, crossing his arms. His confidence grates against me, a reminder that men like him don’t learn unless you carve the lesson into their skin.
“I want to discuss business with you, Price.”
Richard’s eyes sharpen, glinting. “So why the fanfare?” He motions to the car, the fast drive through the streets. “You Rosettis are all the same,” he says, as though he’s complimenting my tailoring. “All flash, no substance.”
I don’t rise to the bait, don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me angry. Instead, I reach for my phone, send a quick text to the driver, a single word.
It takes less than ten minutes to reach the bridge.
The city stretches away behind us, an empire of ambition and greed.
Now we’re on my turf. I feel the familiar pull, the raw, bare-knuckled simplicity of it.
The SUV veers off the main road, cutting down a narrow path lined with rusted metal and cracked concrete.
Abandoned. Forgotten. Like Richard would like his daughters to be.
The car pulls up beneath the bridge, the rumble of traffic overhead. Richard looks out the window, and this time, he’s the one trying to mask his discomfort.
“You bring all your business associates here?” he asks. He tries to sound casual, but his voice has an edge. I hear it, and I love it.
“Only the important ones.” I open the door, motion for him to follow me out.
He hesitates, then steps out. I leave the driver in the car. He’s loyal enough not to talk, but he doesn’t need to hear everything.
Richard takes in the surroundings, the peeling graffiti and the scent of decay. I watch him, gauging his reaction. “Interesting location,” he says.
“I thought you’d appreciate the view.” I walk a few paces, stop, turn to face him. The moment stretches between us. I want to be the one to break it. “You think I don’t know what you did to Eleanor?”
Richard doesn’t flinch. He’s good at that. “What I did? I gave you a valuable asset.”
He’s testing me. Pushing to see how far I’ll let him go. I step closer, cutting the distance between us. “You whored her out to your business associates,” I say. My words are ice. I want them to slice through him.
Richard lifts his chin. “That’s a very dramatic way of putting it.”
I imagine hitting him so hard his grandchildren will feel it, but I restrain myself. I’ve waited this long. “You gave away her cat. You sold her off to marry me.” My voice rises, a low growl that betrays my anger.
“It seems to be working out well for you,” Richard says. “The Burmese rubies are of the finest quality, and you’ll get your share.”
This time, I let the anger show. “This isn’t about rocks, old man.” I grab him by the collar, yank him closer. His breath is stale, sour. I breathe it in, knowing he hates it, knowing it’s the closest I’ll come to devouring him whole. “If it weren’t for the blood tie, you’d be dead already.”
I see it now, the fissure in his composure. It’s small, but it’s enough.
“You’re pathetic,” he says, his voice less sure. “I’m not afraid of you, Rossetti.”
I release him, shove him back a step. His shoes scrape against the concrete, sending up dust. He adjusts his collar, trying to reclaim his dignity. I let him have it. I let him think he’s got some leverage. It’ll make his surrender all the sweeter.
“You should be,” I say. “Now, do you want to hear my business proposal?”
Richard’s eyes narrow. “Fine.”
I smile. “You disappear. Eleanor never sees you again. I don’t have to burn your world to the ground.”
The threat hangs in the air. Richard weighs it. He knows I can do it. But he doesn’t believe it, not yet. He lets out a breath, like he’s the one humoring me. “And in return?”
I don’t blink. “I let you keep breathing.”
Silence follows my words. Heavy, suffocating. The moment where everything hangs in the balance.
Richard breaks it with a dry laugh. “Always so dramatic.”
I drive my fist into his jaw. Hard bone meets soft flesh, and my knuckles sting with satisfaction.
Price stumbles back, his eyes wide. Shocked.
Terrified. Like he’s never been touched by anything other than money.
His hand shakes as it rises to his face; he pulls it back and sees the blood.
Wet, red confirmation that he can bleed—is bleeding.
His confidence oozes out with it, pooling on the ground.
I hit him again. Something shifts under my fist, and I'm glad it hurts. I think about Eleanor, trapped under his thumb, living her whole life as collateral. Anger drives me. I land another punch, and it sends him sprawling to the dirt.
His limbs are awkward. Ungainly. He’s trying to make sense of what's happening. I breathe heavily, looming over him, my fists still clenched and itchy for more. He starts to scramble back, the grit of the pavement biting into his expensive clothes. He’s still got some fight in him.
Still thinks he can come out of this with a win.
I like that. It means I get to break him twice.
I haul him up by the collar, his legs unsteady beneath him.
“Are you going to leave the city?” I spit the words at him, each one a jab.
He’s trying to clear his head, rubs at his temple like he can’t quite get his thoughts straight. “What? No—” That’s all I let him say before my fist meets his cheek. Hard. Swift.
“Are you going to leave the city?” I ask again, and he doesn’t look so sure of himself now. The hint of panic is rising in him, makes him human for once.
“Yes,” he says, the word forced out, barely a whisper over his labored breathing.
“How long will you stay away?” I drill him, and the desperation in his eyes is everything I want to see. He’s searching my face for a clue, a reprieve. But there is none.
He blinks, falters. “A month,” he says. It’s a guess.
I shake my head. His wrong answer earns him another punch. I put my whole body into it, watch him slump against me, dead weight. Barely conscious. Barely anything.
“Wrong, buddy,” I snarl, holding him up by the shirt. “You’re going to leave New York, and you’ll never come back. Am I right?”
There’s a flicker of resistance—pride maybe—before fear takes hold. He nods weakly. “I’ll never come back.”
I let my hand drop, and he crumbles to the ground, a sack of bones.
He’s hurt but not broken yet. I can’t have that. Not until he knows what it’s like to feel helpless. I kick him in the side, and he rolls over, wheezing, blood dripping from his mouth onto the dust.
“How do I know I can trust you?” I ask, staring down at him, daring him to defy me again.
“I’ll go,” he says, his voice cracking like a boy’s. “I swear.”
He’s lost all traces of his bravado now, stripped bare. I crouch down, bringing my face level with his. Close enough to make him flinch.
“What if you change your mind?” I taunt him, watch his eyes grow wide as eggs. I want to savor this. I want him to believe the worst.
He coughs, chokes on his own excuses. “An agreement’s an agreement,” he gasps, clutching his side.
“If you don’t honor it, you know what happens.” I grab him by the collar again, drag him close. “How long, Price?”
His words are a tremor. “Forever.”
I drop him like a sack of potatoes, and he falls to the concrete.
I spit on him, then leave one last piece of advice. “Never contact my wife again.”