Chapter Nine LEO
Ishould’ve known Chiara would be dangerous the second she opened her mouth at breakfast.
Not because she threatened me. Plenty of people had done that before.
Men with guns in their hands. Blood on their suits.
Fear hidden beneath fake confidence. No, Chiara was dangerous because she sat barefoot at my table, sunlight spilling over her pale skin like molten gold, and solved a problem my men had spent months fighting over without even realizing how brilliant she was.
That kind of intelligence was rare. That kind wrapped itself around a man’s throat before he noticed he was choking.
The dining room stayed quiet after she finished speaking. Steam curled lazily from Sergio’s coffee while pale morning light stretched across the marble floors and white walls of the penthouse. Everything felt too still and controlled. Even the silence belonged to me.
Chiara shifted slightly beneath our attention, one tiny bare foot curling against the chair leg. She tried to hide her nerves, but I noticed anyway. I noticed everything about her now.
The way her fingers tightened subtly around the edge of the table. The faint flush creeping up her throat. The loose strands of blonde hair escaping the braid she’d twisted together purely to spite me.
And the ring. My ring. The precious stones flashed against her delicate hand every time she moved, obnoxiously large against her tiny fingers. She could’ve taken it off upstairs. Could’ve thrown it across the room out of spite. But she hadn’t.
Something dark and deeply possessive settled warmly in my chest at the sight. Christ. She was beautiful. Not in the polished, predictable way most women around me were beautiful. Those women tried too hard. Too much makeup. Too much perfume. Too eager to please.
Chiara looked untouched. Soft golden hair. Huge blue eyes sharp with fury. Full pink lips practically made for sinful things. And that tiny little body wrapped in silk like a fucking present I hadn’t been allowed to open yet.
It was becoming a serious problem. Plus, Sergio noticed the ring too. Of course he did. His gaze dropped briefly to Chiara’s hand before flicking toward me with immediate amusement.
“Well,” he drawled lazily, “would you look at that.”
Chiara frowned. “What?”
“You’re wearing boss’ engagement ring,” he drawled. “For someone who claims to hate all this as much as you do, it’s a bit unusual, don’t you think?”
Her hand curled inward protectively, like she realized what he meant. Interesting.
Sergio smirked into his coffee. “I honestly thought you would’ve thrown it at his head by now.”
A faint blush crept into her cheeks. “I just forgot to take it off.”
I didn’t believe her for a fucking second. And judging by Sergio’s expression, neither did he.
“Mm,” he hummed. “Sure.”
Chiara glared at him hard enough to start a fire. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“No,” he smirked. “Not unless my boss tells me to.”
I leaned back slowly in my chair, watching the way her thumb brushed unconsciously over the diamond. Mine. The thought hit hard enough to almost concern me. I set my napkin beside my untouched plate.
“You earned your reward,” I told my fiancée. Suspicion crossed her face. Sharp. Automatic. Beautiful.
“What reward?” she asked carefully.
“A phone call,” I explained. The transformation in her expression hit me harder than it should have. Hope exploded across her face so suddenly it almost looked painful. Her lips parted softly. Her shoulders loosened. Her entire body lit up like someone had breathed life back into her.
“Really?” she whispered. Something tightened low in my chest. Sergio noticed too. I caught the look he shot me from across the table.
“Yes,” I replied evenly. “One call. Supervised.”
Chiara pushed back from the table so quickly her chair scraped sharply across marble. “I don’t care if it’s supervised. I just… I just want to hear my siblings’ voices again.”
Excitement flooded her voice, bright and breathless and genuine. Not the sharp sarcasm she constantly threw at me like knives. This was real. I reached into my pocket and unlocked my phone before holding it out toward her.
“Five minutes,” I warned her. She took it, our fingers brushing briefly. Soft, warm, inviting skin.
“Thank you,” she breathed. The words settled inside me like whiskey poured over fire. Chiara froze too, probably realizing too late she’d thanked me at all. Then she turned quickly and disappeared toward the windows before I could answer.
The second she was out of earshot, Sergio leaned back heavily in his chair. “You’re fucked.”
I poured myself more espresso. “Interesting observation.”
“You’re getting soft over a girl who threatens to kill you every twenty minutes,” he reminded me.
“She’s not a girl,” I hissed.
“She’s eighteen.” Sergio chuckled. “Much younger than your usual flings.”
“And smarter than most men working for me,” I reminded him.
Sergio grunted reluctantly. “Unfortunately true.”
Then his eyes slid toward the windows where Chiara stood clutching my phone.
“She kept the ring on,” he pointed out casually. My jaw tightened slightly.
“She forgot,” I said flatly.
“Sure she did,” Sergio winked. I ignored him, but satisfaction still curled hot and slow beneath my ribs. Because the truth was, Chiara hated me. But some submissive part of her had still chosen to wear my ring.
Across the penthouse, sunlight wrapped around her body while her pale blue dress clung softly to her curves. Her blonde braid slid over one shoulder like silk rope. She was so fucking tiny.
I could throw her over my shoulder without effort. Pin both her wrists above her head with one hand. Spread those pretty thighs apart and… take what I’d wanted from the first night I’d met her and saved her life.
“Aurora?” Her voice cracked softly through the room, dragging me violently out of my thoughts. Everything inside me went still. Gone was the sharp tongue. Gone was the fury and sarcasm and claws she constantly sharpened against me.
This voice was softer. Younger. Fragile in a way I hadn’t heard before. And fuck, I liked it. Too much.
Sergio followed my stare and groaned dramatically. “Jesus Christ.”
“Say whatever stupid thing you’re thinking,” I challenged him.
“You’re attached already.” Sergio’s tone was accusatory. No other man would get away with speaking to me like that, but Sergio did. We went way back. “I’ve never seen you like this. She makes you soft. Too soft.”
“I’m not attached,” I said plainly. “Doesn’t change the fact she’s going to be my wife soon.”
“You looked ready to kill me for upsetting her,” Sergio scoffed.
“You were doing your best to piss me off,” I said.
“You usually enjoy that.” Sergio smirked. I ignored him and reached for my phone instead.
“Get Paolo and Enzo ready for a meeting with Santino,” I muttered.
Sergio straightened slightly. “You’re seriously doing what she suggested?”
“Yes.”
“The waterfront deal?” he checked again.
“They’ll take it.” I glanced toward Chiara again. “Especially if we make it look reluctant.”
Sergio shook his head slowly. “That tiny little psycho handed you a loaded weapon before breakfast.”
A quiet smile almost pulled at my mouth before I crushed it. “She’s useful.”
“She’s trouble,” Sergio said.
“Same thing.” I took another sip of my coffee. “She makes it work.”
Across the room, Chiara laughed softly at something one of her siblings said. The sound hit me strangely. Warm. Sweet. Nothing soft survived long in my world. Men like me ruined soft things. We dirtied them. Claimed them. Broke them apart until they belonged to us completely.
And Christ, I wanted to claim her already. Not just the ring. Not just her name. All of her.
I wanted her sleeping in my bed every night. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my child. Looking at me before anyone else when she laughed like that. The possessiveness hit so hard it almost pissed me off.
Sergio rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You know she’ll never bend completely, right?”
I stayed silent.
“She’s too stubborn,” he continued carefully. “Too angry. You could still walk away before this gets messy.”
Finally, I looked at him. “And why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because eventually she’ll hate you for real,” Sergio muttered. “And you’ll be locked into a marriage with a woman trying her best to escape you, any chance she gets.”
Maybe. But I’d seen the way her body reacted to me. The way her breathing changed when I got too close. The way those blue eyes darkened every time I talked about putting her beneath me.
Chiara hated me. But she wanted me too. That was the problem.
I leaned back slowly in my chair. “I like a challenge.”
Sergio stared at me for a long moment before muttering something in Italian and standing. “You always did enjoy suffering.”
“That’s why I tolerate you,” I winked at him.
“Fuck you too, boss.”
I barely heard him leave. My attention stayed fixed on Chiara.
She stood near the windows clutching my phone tightly while sunlight turned her blonde hair almost white around the edges. Then she lifted one hand to wipe quickly beneath her eye before she realized I could see her reflection in the glass. Crying. Over her family.
The sight settled somewhere ugly beneath my ribs. Not pity. Possession.
Her family had controlled every piece of her life before me, yet somehow she still loved them enough to cry over five stolen minutes. Interesting.
When she finally returned the phone, her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes brighter than before.
“You timed me,” she accused quietly.
“Yes.” I swirled the coffee in my cup.
Exasperatedly, she sat down across from me. “That was cruel.”
“And yet you’re smiling.”
She blinked like she hadn’t realized it herself. Then the smile disappeared, replaced by stubborn anger again. “I still hate you.”
“Of course you do,” I chuckled. But her fingers lingered slightly against mine when she handed my phone back.
After breakfast, I locked myself inside my office.