Chapter Seven LEO #2
Her breathing was uneven when I looked at her again, her lips parted, flushed, her eyes unfocused in a way that told me she hadn’t expected it to feel like that, hadn’t expected her body to react before she could stop it.
I took a moment to look at her properly, letting it settle.
“That kiss,” I said quietly, my voice steady again, “is your punishment for running away.”
Her hand came up to her mouth, fingers brushing over her lips like she could erase the feeling of it, like she could undo what just happened.
“Now,” I continued, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You have to live with yourself, knowing you wanted it just as much as I did.”
“You don’t get to punish me… like that,” she rasped.
“Would you rather I spank you?” I suggested, and she took a step back, shaking her head, body trembling. Her composure cracked slightly, the control she’d been holding onto slipping at the edges.
“I gave you a choice this time,” I continued, watching her closely. “Now that we both know the truth, there won’t be any more running from it.”
Her chest rose and fell too quickly, her voice shaking despite the effort to steady it. “And I don’t get to decide when you touch me?”
“Not anymore.”
The word settled between us, final. I let the silence stretch again, long enough for it to sink in, for her to understand exactly what she was up against.
“You’re going to remember this kiss, and how it made you feel,,” I said. “The next time you think about running.”
She didn’t answer. But I could see it in her eyes. I’d won the first battle.
“There’s something else,” I added, reaching into the pocket of my slacks. “This.”
I presented her with a small red box, and her eyes widened when it opened. An intricate engagement ring with a large ruby set in a teardrop shape, surrounded by diamonds.
Shakily, she extended a hand. That was permission enough for me to slide the ring on her finger. I didn’t get on my knee, nor did I ask for her hand. We both knew the wedding was inevitable.
“Now,” I said softly. “No one will mistake you for anything but my property.”
Her hand snapped back, but it was too late to deny what she’d just given me. The fact that she refused to meet my eyes was the proof I needed.
“Sleep well, Chiara,” I muttered. “Soon, you’ll come to sleep in my bed. Don’t disappoint me again.”
The next morning, I made arrangements for a doctor to come to the penthouse.
Chiara realized something was wrong the moment I walked into her bedroom.
I saw it in the way she slowed, the instinctive hesitation that caught in her step before she could mask it, her gaze moving from me to the unfamiliar man standing a few feet behind me.
He looked out of place here. Too clean and too clinical, his presence cut through the controlled luxury of the penthouse.
“Who is this?” she asked, suspicion already threading through her voice.
I didn’t answer. I watched her instead, taking in the tension building in her shoulders, the way her body was already bracing for a fight she didn’t fully understand yet.
“A precaution,” I said finally.
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of precaution?”
The doctor shifted slightly beside me, clearly uncomfortable, but I ignored him. “Medical.”
Her gaze snapped back to mine, something sharper flaring behind it. “You want me to speak to a doctor?”
“It’s just a little exam,” I shrugged. “Just to make sure you’re… untouched.”
Chiara’s posture stiffened. “You want to see if I’m really a virgin.”
I stepped forward. “Yes.”
“I don’t think so.” Her voice rose, not loud, but tight with controlled anger. “You don’t get to do this.”
“I do, and I will.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her breathing uneven now. “You don’t get to decide what happens to my body.”
I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to press the truth of it into her. “That decision was made the moment you fell into my life. I saved your life, remember? You owe me.”
Something in her expression fractured. Not fear, not exactly. Something more like rage.
“This is insane,” she snapped. “You already lied about me, and now you want to, what? Check your own story?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re serious,” she said, quieter now, disbelief bleeding into the words. “Did I give you any reason to doubt me?”
“I don’t deal in uncertainty.”
Her laugh was sharp and hollow. “So this is about you? Your pride?”
“It’s about control.” I smiled. “Like I keep telling you.”
Her chest rose and fell too quickly. “I’m not doing this.”
I crossed the space between us in two strides, stopping just short of touching her, letting her feel the shift without giving her an outlet for it. And I could tell her body wanted to respond again. Just like the night before, when she was so eager for me to steal more than just a kiss from her.
“I hate you,” she said.
“You keep repeating that, like it’s going to make it true,” I smiled.
I motioned at the doctor. “Do your job.”
Chiara didn’t look at me after that. Not once.
I stayed in the room anyway, positioned just far enough not to interfere, close enough that I missed nothing. The doctor moved carefully, professionally, guiding her to sit despite her resistance, his tone low and measured as he worked.
“Your ankle,” he said gently, kneeling in front of her. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
“No,” I said without raising my voice. “You’re not. She was bitten by a snake, doctor. I worry it’s still inflamed.”
She went still after that, her jaw tightening as she reluctantly allowed him to touch her. The doctor peeled back the bandage at her ankle with practiced precision, revealing the bite, bruised skin still healing. He examined it closely, his expression shifting into something more focused.
“This was treated quickly,” he said, almost to himself before glancing up at me. “Whoever helped her with it saved her life.”
I smirked. “Tell her that. She doesn’t seem to believe it.”
The doctor returned his attention to Chiara, cleaning the wound, reapplying pressure with steady hands. “Another hour, maybe two, and the venom could have spread further. Whoever intervened knew what they were doing.”
My gaze stayed on her. She didn’t even look at me, but at least now she knew I wasn’t full of shit. I saved her life, so I was entitled to it now.
The doctor worked in silence for a moment longer before his hands paused slightly. Something had caught his attention.
“Signorina,” he said carefully, “I need you to relax.”
“I am relaxed,” Chiara hissed.
“You’re not,” he replied gently, though there was tension in his tone now.
Her body resisted anyway, but not enough to stop him.
The doctor pulled up the shirt she was wearing over her back, exposing welts.
Some of them old, some of them fresher. My hands formed fists.
I hadn’t seen those yet, because she was still hiding her body from me.
I’d seen shapes of her Papa’s fingers, bruised around her wrist, but not this.
Those thin, angry lines shouldn’t have been there at all.
“Were you treated for these?” the doctor asked Chiara quietly.
“No,” she spat out.
His gaze lifted to her face, searching. “Do you know how you got them?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot,” she replied.
“And?”
Her shoulders went rigid. “It doesn’t matter.”
The room shifted. Not visibly. But we all felt it.
The doctor hesitated, then glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to her. “If there’s been repeated trauma…”
“There hasn’t,” she cut in, sharper now. Her pulse was visible at her throat, her breathing shallow.
Lying. Not well enough.
I said nothing. I watched. Memorized.
The placement of every mark. The way she held herself, like she was trying to hide what couldn’t be undone. The difference between the newer, still bloody bruising and the older scars, faint but unmistakable under the light.
Someone had put their hands on her before I could stop them. The thought settled in quietly. Dangerously.
I couldn’t stand to be in the room anymore. The thought of someone, likely her father, beating his own, beautiful daughter like that, made me enraged. I stood abruptly, walking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind me. I didn’t even bother to lock it.
In the living area, I paced the room. Originally, I wanted to be with Chiara for the full exam. I trusted the doctor, but a part of me wanted to see her squirm. After I saw the welts though, I could barely contain my anger.
When the doctor finally reappeared, it felt like eons later. I looked at him expectantly.
“She’s untouched,” he said.
The words fell into the room with quiet certainty. For a moment, nothing moved. Then something in my chest tightened, sharp, immediate, and deeply satisfying.
Of course she was untouched. I knew that, didn’t I?
Maybe I had to admit to myself this exam wasn’t about her being a virgin. Maybe I just wanted to confirm my doubts about her father, and how he treated his children. I nodded once.
“I’ve left some salve for the bite, and some scar fading cream for her back.” The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “Signore Moretti, if I may… Some of those scars are old. She got them before she was a teenager.”
Fury pulsed through my heart. I nodded, and showed the doctor out after paying him handsomely. All my fears came true. And now I knew Chiara was about to hate me a lot more than she already did, because I already knew without a doubt, I was going to kill her father for what he’d done.
The door closed behind the doctor with a soft click, leaving us alone in the penthouse again. Chiara was waiting by the time I got back to her bedroom, her back to the window. She stood there, arms wrapped around herself, holding something together that had already started to crack.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said finally, her voice low, trembling with something she refused to let spill over. “That was the most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to do.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t need to, because I believed her.
My gaze moved over her again, slower now, more deliberate, tracing the tension, the anger, the humiliation still lingering in the air between us. And beneath it, the marks I’d already committed to memory.
Her father had hurt her. Repeatedly. I’d make sure no one else suffered because of him again.
“That man last night,” I said quietly, “he thought he could touch you.”
Her jaw tightened. “He barely did before you killed him in cold blood.”
“He still thought he could.” I stepped closer again, close enough to see the way her breathing shifted, the faint flush still lingering on her skin. “He was wrong. Hurting you had consequences.”
Her pulse jumped.
“And now I know,” I added, letting the words settle with intention, “that no one else has claimed you before me.”
Her breath caught. “I could have told you that myself.”
“But why?” I smirked. “This was so much more fun for me.”
“You’re sick,” she whispered.
“Maybe.” No point denying the obvious. My hand lifted slightly, hovering near Chiara’s face without touching, close enough that she felt it anyway. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t share what’s mine.”
Her eyes dropped for a fraction of a second before snapping back up, defiance fighting through everything else.
“Are you pleased now?” she asked, her voice shaking. “You’ve taken everything from me. Even my dignity.”
I held her gaze. Watched her try to hold onto control that didn’t belong to her anymore.
“I am not pleased,” I said calmly. “I’m not happy my fiancée keeps secrets from me. Like those welts on your back. You know I’ll make him pay for those, don’t you?”
The certainty in it landed harder than anything else. She stilled.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said weakly.
“Do you really think I’m so stupid?” I hissed. “The only person who could have put them there is your father. That slimy, red-faced little traitor will pay for it in blood. That, I promise you.”
Chiara paled. But this time… she didn’t argue.