Chapter 31
I stare at Leo's face on the screen, the familiar angles of his jaw, the same eyes that match mine but carry a harder edge. Seeing him gives me a ton of solace but tension still coils in my stomach.
"Now it's your time to trust me, Leo," I say.
His brow furrows. "What does that mean?"
I take a deep breath, readying myself. "What did Papa say about me in recent days? About my... disappearance?"
Leo's expression clouds. "He said you were kidnapped." His eyes flick briefly toward Alessio off-screen. "At first it was Raymond who put men out to search for you. When I asked Father why we weren't tearing the world apart looking for you, he just said Raymond was taking care of it."
My heart sinks. Just as I suspected. My own father, uncaring, barely lifting a finger.
"That caused a huge fight between us," Leo continues, anger flashing across his features. "I couldn't believe he was so... calm about it. His own daughter is missing and he's letting Raymond handle it? I've had my own men searching but we haven't found any leads."
"Did you ever wonder why I was running away from my own wedding?"
Leo's eyes stretch slightly. "What?"
"I wasn't kidnapped on my way to the wedding, Leo. I was running away," I inform him.
"Running away? Mel, what the hell is going on?"
"Leo, we don't have time for the full story right now. I need you to do something really important."
His expression shifts from confusion to concern. "What is it?"
"I need you to help me open Papa's safe." My voice sinks. "The one in his office. The one he never opens in front of us."
"Why?" Leo demands, his protective instincts flaring. "What's this about?"
"Raymond and Papa... they're involved in something terrible, Leo." My voice catches. "Really terrible. I left in order to buy myself the time to find evidence."
Leo's face hardens. "What kind of terrible?"
"The kind that would destroy our family name forever if it came out." I lean closer to the screen. "The kind that would make Mom turn in her grave."
His jaw clenches at the mention of our mother. "You're being cryptic, Mel. I need more than that."
"Please, Leo." My eyes fill with tears I don't have to fake. "I'm begging you to trust me. Like when we were kids and I covered for you with Papa when you snuck out to meet that girl from the Ricci family."
A muscle twitches in his cheek. "That was different."
"It's not. It was about family then and it's about family now." I press a fingertip to the screen as if I could reach through and touch him. "You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. You know me."
Leo goes quiet, his gaze searching mine through the digital connection. I can see the conflict in his eyes—loyalty to our father battling with his love for me.
"Leo, please," I whisper. "I've never needed your help more than I do right now."
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache. "This could get me killed, you know that?"
"I know," I say softly. "But it could save countless lives."
His eyes sharpen at that. "What the hell has he gotten into?"
"Trust me," I plead. "Just this once, trust me completely."
Leo leans closer to the camera; "It's not like I have the combination, Mel. He never shared it with me."
"You don't need the combination," I say. "I just need you to give me some details about the safe—manufacturer, model number, any identifying marks. I can hack it from here."
Leo's eyebrows shoot up. "Hack it? Since when do you know how to hack anything?"
I press my lips together, frustration building in my chest. "Leo, asking a lot of questions, nothing's going to get solved anytime soon. Can you do this for me or not?"
He stares at me through the screen, studying my face with the same intensity he's had since we were children. I can see the conflict going on behind his eyes—loyalty to our father warring with his love for me.
"I'll do it," he finally says, his voice firm. "But you're going to explain yourself the minute we get whatever you think he's hiding in there. All of it, Mel. No more secrets."
Relief floods through me. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he mutters. "This could get us both killed."
"Do you know his schedule for the next few days?" I ask, changing the subject. "When can you get into his office without him noticing?"
Leo runs a hand through his hair. "He hasn't kept to any schedule since you left. He's been..." He hesitates. "Different. Distracted. But he has a meeting with Raymond today at ten. I can do it then."
"Today?" My pulse quickens. This is happening faster than I expected.
"It's now or never, Mel." His eyes harden with determination. "You asked for my help and this is when I can give it. Are you ready or not?"
I nod, swallowing hard. "I'm ready."
I see Leo's expression change as a flicker of suspicion crosses his features.
"What the hell are you doing with the Ferettis anyway?" he demands in a harsh whisper. "Have you lost your mind?"
The accusation stings but I lift my chin. "They've helped me more than our father ever did."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Leo, when was the last time Father actually protected either of us from anything? Really protected us?"
The question hangs between us. I can see greater conflict in his eyes as memories surface—all the times our father chose business over family, power over love.
"Alessio will give you a phone number," I say gently. "Call it when Father is gone from the house. It's secure—no one can trace it."
Leo runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so like our mother's it makes my heart ache. "Fine. But this better be worth it, Mel."
"It will be," I promise. "And Leo? Thank you."
His expression softens just slightly. "Don't thank me yet." He glances at his watch.
"Be careful."
"You too." He pauses, then adds, "Whatever you're into, Mel... just watch yourself."
The screen goes black as he ends the call, and I'm left staring at my own reflection.
I return to the Feretti estate, my mind still replaying the conversation with Leonardo. The man had been ready to kill me on sight, but in the end his love for his sister overrode everything else. That kind of loyalty is rare—dangerous and valuable in equal measure.
When I push open the door to my bedroom I find Melania sitting on the bed, her back to me. Her shoulders tremble slightly and I know immediately something's wrong.
"Melania?" I keep my voice low, gentle.
I crouch down in front of her, my thumb tracing her jaw. "What's wrong, piccola ?"
"Nothing." She shakes her head, blinking rapidly. "I'm fine."
"Bullshit." I cup her face between my hands. "Talk to me."
Her composure crumbles like a house of cards. One moment she's holding herself together, the next she's collapsing against my chest, her body wracked with sobs.
I gather her against me, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other wraps around her waist. Her tears soak through my shirt as she clings to me, her fingers digging into my back.
"I've got you," I murmur into her hair. "I've got you."
I don't ask any questions. Don't demand explanations. Just hold her while she falls apart, her body shuddering against mine. The weight of everything is all crashing down on her at once.
Eventually her sobs quieten to shaky breaths. I lay her gently back on the bed, then stretch out beside her. She curls against me immediately, her head on my chest, her hand fisted in my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear.
"You should get some rest," I tell her, my fingers combing through her hair. "I'll wake you when it's time."
"Don't leave," she whispers, her voice raw.
"I'm not going anywhere." I press my lips to her forehead. "Sleep, bella. I'll be right here."
Her body gradually relaxes against mine, her breathing slowing as exhaustion claims her. I continue stroking her hair, watching as the tension eases from her face.
I stay perfectly still, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my side.
Her lashes rest on her cheeks, damp and spiky from tears. Even now, exhausted and vulnerable, she's fucking beautiful.
This room has been my sanctuary for years. The place I return to after missions for Damiano, after blood and violence, after making examples of men who crossed the Ferettis. These walls have witnessed my nightmares, my rare moments of weakness when no one else could see.
I also have an apartment in Manhattan—sleek, modern, untouched. I pay the bills but I'm rarely there. It never felt like home, just another asset, another piece of property. Something to own rather than inhabit.
But now, looking at Melania's sleeping form, I can picture it. Her books scattered on the coffee table. Her laptop open on the kitchen counter. Her scent lingering in my sheets.
I want to take her there. I want to wake up with her beside me, not because we're hiding or because she needs protection, but because she chooses to be there. With me.
I've never wanted this before. Never allowed myself to imagine a life beyond service to the Ferettis, beyond the next mission, the next target.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with these feelings? I don't even have words for them. They're foreign, dangerous—more terrifying than any gun pointed at my head.
She shifts in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and my arm tightens around her automatically.
I want her mind, her laughter, her fucking brilliant brain. I want her fears and her nightmares and her past. I want all of it.
I want her to make my miserable life shine.
The realization should send me running. Should make me put distance between us, remind me who she is, who I am. Instead, I pull her closer, press my lips to her forehead.
What are you doing to me, piccola?
She's lost in dreams I hope are kinder than reality. But I already know—she's remaking me from the inside out.
Something tickles my cheek. A whisper of breath, then the press of lips.
"Melania. Wake up, piccola ."
I burrow deeper into warmth, clinging to the edges of sleep.