Chapter Ten CHIARA
The nightmare started with Matteo screaming. Not loudly. That was what made it so much worse. It sounded choked. Suffocated. Like he was trying to be brave while someone hurt him.
I ran barefoot through endless dark hallways, my lungs burning while freezing marble sliced against the bottoms of my feet.
The corridors twisted unnaturally around me, stretching longer every time I reached the end of one.
Gold-framed paintings blurred past in the darkness while candlelight flickered weakly against black walls that seemed to close tighter and tighter around me with every step.
“Chiara!” Sienna’s voice cracked somewhere ahead. Panic exploded through my chest.
I tried to run faster, but the air thickened around me like wet cement, dragging against my skin, trapping me in place. My heartbeat thundered so violently it drowned everything else out except the sound of my little sister crying. Then I heard Papa.
Calm controlled and cruel, like he always was.
“You think your mistakes only punish you?” His voice echoed softly through the darkness. “Look what you’ve done to this family.”
A sharp crack split the air. Aurora cried out. My stomach twisted so hard it hurt. I reached the final hallway and shoved open the door. Matteo stood in front of Papa trembling violently, blood dripping slowly from his split lip onto white marble floors.
“No,” I whispered. Papa looked at me with cold disappointment.
“You left them,” he said quietly. “So now they suffer for it.”
I lunged forward… And woke up gasping.
My body jerked violently beneath silk sheets while panic clawed up my throat like nails. For one horrible second, I still smelled blood in the air. Still heard Matteo crying. My chest hurt so badly I thought I might actually be dying.
Then warmth tightened around me. Strong arms. A hard chest pressed against my back.
“Chiara.” Leo’s voice slid through the dark like velvet over broken glass. Reality crashed back slowly.
The penthouse. His bed. His arms around me.
Moonlight spilled silver through the massive windows, washing pale light across black silk sheets tangled around our bodies. My breathing came in short, uneven gasps while Leo held me tightly against him, one heavy arm wrapped possessively around my waist like he’d been keeping me there all night.
The realization should’ve terrified me. Instead, heat spread painfully through my chest. I could feel every inch of him behind me. Warm skin and hard muscle. The slow drag of his breathing against the back of my neck.
God. Even half asleep, Leo Moretti felt overwhelming. Any other woman would’ve melted beneath him.
Tall enough to make everyone else seem smaller without trying. Broad shoulders. Thick tattooed arms. A body carved from violence and expensive sin. Even now, tangled in dark sheets with sleep roughening his voice, he radiated something dangerous enough to make my pulse flutter helplessly.
And his face… Sharp jaw shadowed with dark stubble. Black hair messy from sleep. Heavy eyes fixed entirely on me now, watching me with an intensity that made my skin too tight for my body.
In another life, I would’ve ruined myself for a man like him willingly. That humiliating truth settled low in my stomach.
“I…” My voice cracked apart embarrassingly. “I had a nightmare.”
“I know.” His voice sounded different at night. Lower. Rougher. Intimate in a way that slid beneath my skin and stayed there.
Leo’s hand moved slowly against my waist, grounding me with each steady pass of his palm. The warmth of him surrounded me completely now. He was all dark cologne, smoke, expensive whiskey, clean masculine skin.
It smelled dangerous. It smelled safe. That contradiction confused me more than anything else.
Because this man had destroyed my life. He lied about me. Ruined my reputation. Took my innocence so no other man would ever want me enough to stop him from marrying me.
I should’ve hated him. I did hate him. So why did being in his arms feel like the only thing keeping me together?
Another tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. Leo caught it. His thumb brushed slowly beneath my eye, rough skin dragging softly against wet tears.
“Easy, bellissima,” he said softly.
“I hate when you call me that,” I whispered shakily.
A low laugh vibrated through his chest beneath my hands. “No, you don’t.”
Heat flooded my cheeks because the asshole was right. I hated that he knew it.
“I do,” I muttered weakly.
“You get this tiny little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time you lie to me,” he said.
“I’m not lying at all,” I insisted.
“You’re constantly lying to yourself,” he said, and I flushed, because it was the truth.
The words settled heavily between us. His mouth brushed softly against my temple. The gentleness nearly ruined me. I turned slowly in his arms until I faced him fully, and my pulse spiraled out of control.
Moonlight carved sharp shadows across his bare chest while black sheets rested low on his hips.
Tattoos disappeared beneath the fabric in dark winding lines that made my mouth go dry.
Hard muscle flexed every time he shifted slightly closer, like his body physically couldn’t stop responding to mine.
Too close. Way too close. And somehow still not close enough.
My gaze drifted helplessly lower over his chest, tracing ink and warm skin and the hard lines of his stomach before lifting back to his face. Leo noticed everything. A dark expression flickered through his eyes. Possession mixed with hunger. Heat curled low in my stomach.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmured softly, “and I’m going to stop pretending I have self-control.”
My breath caught. “I didn’t ask you to have self-control.”
The second the words left my mouth, silence crashed between us. Leo went completely still. Then very slowly, one corner of his mouth curved upward. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying right now, Chiara.”
God, that voice. It wrapped around my body like silk ropes tied too tightly.
“I know exactly what I’m saying,” I whispered.
“No,” he said quietly. “You really don’t.”
His hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through tangled blonde strands before gripping gently at the roots. Not enough to hurt. Enough to control. A shiver rolled violently through me. Leo noticed that too. A dark satisfaction flickered across his face.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “You feel too fucking good in my bed.”
Heat exploded across my skin. I should’ve moved away. Should’ve remembered who he was. Instead, I leaned closer. Leo inhaled sharply. Victory flickered through me for one reckless second. Then his grip tightened slightly in my hair, dragging my attention fully back to him.
“Chiara,” he warned quietly. The way he said my name nearly melted me completely. Nobody had ever looked at me like this before. Like they wanted to consume me whole.
My eyes dropped helplessly to his mouth. Big mistake. Leo’s breathing changed. Slower. Heavier. The room felt hotter now. Smaller somehow. Thick with tension and the smell of him surrounding me from every direction. I couldn’t breathe properly anymore.
“I should hate you,” I whispered.
“You do,” he reminded me. “You’ve made it pretty fucking clear.”
“But I still want you…” I let out in a whisper.
Leo closed his eyes briefly like the confession physically hurt him. When he looked at me again, something dangerous burned there now. Raw hunger. Barely controlled.
“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how hard it is not to flip you onto your back right now.”
Heat rushed violently through my body. My thighs pressed together instinctively beneath the sheets. Leo noticed. A dark sound almost like pain escaped him. “Fuck.”
The single word sounded wrecked. Embarrassment hit me, but underneath it came something worse. Excitement.
Because Leo Moretti, the cold, terrifying man everyone feared, looked seconds away from completely losing control over me. And God help me, I wanted to see it happen.
His forehead rested lightly against mine now, his breathing warm against my mouth. Every inch of him felt tightly restrained, like his body was physically fighting itself not to touch me more.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured roughly. The words barely sounded human anymore. My stomach twisted. Because I knew if I told him to stop, he actually would. And somehow that made wanting him worse.
I looked at his mouth again. Another mistake. Leo’s grip tightened slightly in my hair.
“Christ,” he muttered darkly. “You keep staring at me like you want me to ruin you.”
A helpless little sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. His eyes darkened.
“Yeah,” he whispered roughly. “That sound isn’t helping either.”
My pulse hammered painfully hard. Everything about him overwhelmed me.
His size. His warmth. The rough scrape of his thumb against my skin.
The smell of whiskey and smoke wrapped around expensive cologne.
The tattoos disappearing beneath sheets while moonlight painted silver across hard muscle. Sinfully beautiful.
And worst of all?
He wanted me just as badly. I could feel it. In the tension locked through his body. In the way his hand flexed against my waist every few seconds like he was resisting the urge to drag me fully on top of him. In the way he looked at my mouth like he was starving.
“Leo,” I whispered. His nose brushed mine lightly.
“Don’t say my name like that unless you want me to take it further,” he bit out.
“I… don’t know what I want,” I admitted. That dangerous smile appeared again.
“You are going to fuck me up,” he muttered. The words sent another shiver through me. Because he was right. This felt dangerous. Not just because I wanted him.
Because some part of me already knew one kiss from Leo Moretti would never be enough.