Chapter 36 Leonardo
Leonardo
The front door creaks open, and I step into the brisk October air, thinking of nothing but this new meeting, this fresh piece of business that’s all mine. No fucking Albanians sniffing around anymore.
Then I hear Eleanor. Her steps are quick, angry clicks on the cold marble, and she stops me before I even reach the car.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she says, folding her arms. She’s standing there in that black skirt suit, a high-collared silk blouse under the jacket, and heels that could kill. I smile and lean against the doorframe of the garage. I’ve never been good at saying no to her.
Eleanor holds her ground, statuesque, ice-blue eyes locked on me.
The mansion forecourt looms around us, all harsh angles and shadows, but she makes it her own.
I linger there, taking her in. Her hair’s pulled back, dark and sleek, showing the sharp line of her jaw.
She’s ready for war. It’s almost a shame to ruin her day by telling her I’m going to the meeting alone.
“I’ve got this, Eleanor,” I say, calm and measured, pushing my hands into my pockets. “No need for you to be bothered.”
She’s standing still, too still, and I know I’ve said exactly the wrong thing.
“No need for me to be bothered?” she repeats, tilting her head like she’s trying to figure out if I’m really that dense.
Her fingers go to her ring, twisting it, a habit she can't break. I’ve seen her do it when she’s ready to kill someone.
“Leonardo,” she says slowly, like she’s talking to a child, “you do realize I’ve been groomed my entire life to understand the gem business, don’t you? ”
I keep my cool, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. “Gems, fights, guns. They’re all the same. It’s business. And they know I’m in charge now.”
Her mouth curves, amused but ruthless. “If you want to look like an idiot in front of your new associates, by all means, go without me.”
She’s too smart for her own good. Or maybe too smart for mine. I push away from the doorframe, taking a step toward her. Her eyes never leave mine, and I wonder if this is the part where I pretend I have the upper hand.
I keep my voice light. “This how you plan to spend your morning? Arguing with me?”
“It’s a full-time job,” she says. She stands there, daring me to say no, to leave without her. And I know I can’t.
I think about the last few weeks, how I’ve finally taken over the gem business.
With the Albanians out of the picture and Richard gone, it should have been easy.
But nothing’s ever easy when it comes to Eleanor.
The space between us feels like it’s shrinking and expanding all at once, and I’m too aware of how much I want to close it.
“You think I can’t handle a meeting with a pen pusher?” I ask, watching her reaction. “That why you’re doing this?”
“I know you can handle the meeting. What I think,” she says, stepping closer, “is that you’re trying to cut me out. And I won’t let you.”
The stubbornness in her voice is the same thing that drew me to her, the same thing that drives me insane. “I married a damn bulldozer,” I say, shaking my head, pretending to be more annoyed than I am.
Her lips twitch, almost a smile. “You married the Price empire, but you got me instead.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice softening. “And you know what? I think I’m starting to like it.”
She gives me a long look, assessing. I should’ve known better than to think she’d let me go without her. Eleanor always gets what she wants. It’s something we have in common, except when it comes to each other. She has a way of undoing me, of taking my plans and turning them into hers.
“If you don’t take me,” she says, her tone sweet but sharp, “I’ll be sure to let the Albanians know you have trouble with negotiation.”
I try to hold my ground, just for the show of it. “And here I thought you’d appreciate a morning off.”
“From you? Never,” she says, and this time her smile is full, bright. It’s a victory, and she knows it.
“All right,” I say, holding up my hands like I’m surrendering. “Let’s go.”
She doesn’t even pretend to be surprised. “Finally,” she says, striding past me and into the garage. “We’re partners, Leonardo. Stop forgetting that.”
I watch her move ahead of me, graceful, unhurried, already certain that I’ll follow. I can never say no to my wife. The rest of the world can wait.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. Eleanor’s never been a part of my plan. She’s too wild for that, too unpredictable. But now she’s the best thing about it. I reach for her hand, pull her closer. “Come on, you’re going to make me late.”
Eleanor and I sit across from Larry Johnson, the new CEO of Price Enterprises. The conference room is a study in glass and steel, a sleek perch above the city where the sounds of traffic are too far away to matter.
Eleanor leans back in her chair, calm and collected, but I see the way she watches me, curious and almost amused. She’ll want to know how I got her father out of the picture, and I’ll have to tell her. But not yet.
Larry sits across from us, smiling that smooth smile that feels more like a sales pitch than sincerity.
“We’re thrilled to have you both on board as valued distribution partners,” he says, his gaze flicking between us.
He thinks he’s charming. He thinks he’s going to win us over with empty promises and thin charm.
He knows he’s working on the edges of the law, but he doesn’t know just how far past it the Rosettis operate. Way past the realm of empty promises.
Larry leans forward, hands clasped like he’s on the brink of a great revelation. “We’re moving away from the old model,” he says, voice full of forced excitement. “More focus on emerging markets, new territories. This is a new era for Price Enterprises.”
Eleanor raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Bold,” she says with a sharpness that cuts through the room. “What about existing markets?” Her voice is smooth and lethal. “They don’t matter anymore?”
The lights above cast a cold glow, reflecting off the polished table, but Eleanor is the brightest thing in the room.
Her attention is fixed on Larry, and I’m jealous for a moment that it’s not on me.
She’s got a way of pinning a man to the wall with just a glance, and I want to be the one squirming.
Larry stumbles, caught off guard by the question. “We’re not abandoning them,” he says, a little too quick. “Just... diversifying.”
Eleanor nods slowly, like she’s considering his answer.
But I know her too well. She’s already three steps ahead, already decided exactly how she’s going to play this.
The room is silent, the muffled hum of the city beneath us, but Eleanor doesn’t rush.
She waits, letting Larry feel the weight of her silence.
I watch Larry flounder. Eleanor was made for this. Groomed to be the perfect gem dealer, and I’m lucky as hell to have her by my side. The last few months flash through my mind—the way we’ve pulled this off, the way she’s outmaneuvered everyone who’s tried to put her in a corner. Including me.
Larry shifts, trying to regain his footing. “We’ve also got some exciting developments in our quality division,” he says, like it’s the ace up his sleeve. “Cutting-edge assessment techniques, quality evaluation, brand-new relationships with overseas experts.”
He thinks he’s regained control of the conversation, but Eleanor isn’t done with him yet. “Quality evaluation,” she repeats, her voice lilting. “Do tell.”
Larry fumbles for an answer, his confidence slipping. “We’re, uh, negotiating with new quality assessment partners,” he says, less sure of himself. “Finding efficiencies wherever we can.”
Eleanor nods, the picture of patience. She knows she has him on the ropes, and she’s taking her time, savoring it. “So, no one in-house?”
I sit back, watching him crumble under Eleanor’s gaze. She’s in total control, and she didn’t even have to raise her voice. Her power isn’t loud—it’s quiet, cutting. I think about Richard, about how I got him out, and I know Eleanor will demand to hear everything.
But not now. Not yet. She’s enjoying this too much.
I watch, caught between awe and anticipation, as she lays out a strategy that makes Larry’s sound like the ramblings of an amateur.
She knows every term, every nuance, and she twists them until Larry’s gasping for air.
It’s a work of art, the way she dismantles him piece by piece.
She asks about the four Cs—cut, color, clarity, carat—and throws in questions about fluorescence, sourcing, emerging trends.
Larry can’t keep up, but he tries. God, how he tries.
Eleanor listens, then makes him start over when he trips on his own words. “Let’s backtrack,” she says at one point, her tone almost generous. She knows she’s got him, and so do I.
This is the woman I can’t say no to, the one who keeps me on my toes and makes every second of uncertainty worth it. Larry’s not even on the same planet. She keeps at him, digging deeper, going over details that make my head spin. But Eleanor’s right in her element.
By the time she’s through with him, Larry’s looking at me like he’s hoping for an ally. I just sit there, let him squirm. He brought this on himself. He’s the one who thought he could go toe-to-toe with her. Now he knows better.
“Maybe you’d like to look at our numbers?” he says, almost pleading.
Eleanor nods, gracious in victory. “Yes,” she says. “I’d like that.”
I watch Larry flail a little longer before I step in, throwing him a lifeline he doesn’t deserve. “Why don’t you send them over?” I say, standing up, taking Eleanor’s hand. She rises next to me, and I feel her warmth, the confidence that’s mine by extension.
Larry’s face is flushed, his composure long gone. “I’ll get right on that."
I look at Eleanor, see the satisfaction in her eyes, the way she’s glowing from more than just the overhead lights. “We’ll be in touch,” I tell Larry, already moving toward the door.
Eleanor slips her hand into mine as we step into the elevator. “Now, aren’t you glad you brought me.”
“Had to,” I reply. “Can’t say no to my wife.”
She looks at me, a hint of mischief in her gaze. “And my father?”
The elevator descends, floor by floor, and I watch her, taking in every part of this woman who’s taken me apart and put me back together. “He’s gone,” I say. “For good.”
Eleanor squeezes my hand, and we step into the foyer on onto the street. Outside, the city waits.