Chapter Nineteen CHIARA #2
He studied her seriously for a moment before standing and speaking quietly to one of the handlers nearby. The poor employee nearly tripped over himself trying to obey whatever terrifying request The Serpent had just made.
A few minutes later, a small pale yellow snake was carefully brought out. Sienna hid halfway behind my legs.
“It’s okay,” Leo told her softly. “Look at him. His name is Banana.”
“It’ll bite me,” Sienna whispered.
“No,” he said calmly. “He’s more scared of you than you are of him.”
The irony of Leo Moretti saying that about anything almost made me laugh. Sienna peeked out cautiously. The little snake curled lazily around the handler’s wrist, tiny tongue flicking curiously through the air. It looked harmless. Gentle, even.
“He’s cute,” she whispered reluctantly. “Kind of. I guess.”
“There you go,” Leo said encouragingly.
Sienna looked up at Leo uncertainly. “Will you hold him first?”
Without hesitation, Leo took the snake carefully into his tattooed hands. The sight nearly stopped my heart. The Serpent standing beneath soft golden reptile-house lighting with a tiny yellow snake curled harmlessly around his wrist while my little sister stared at him with complete awe.
“You see?” he murmured gently. “Not every snake wants to hurt you.”
Something about those words felt bigger than the moment itself. Sienna slowly reached out before finally letting the tiny snake curl carefully around her hands.
“Chiara!” she squealed happily. “LOOK!”
I was looking. At her. At Leo. At this impossible strange beautiful moment that should never have existed. And for the first time in a very long time, I forgot to be afraid.
By the time we left the reptile house, Sienna had completely abandoned all fear of snakes. In fact, she wouldn’t stop talking about them.
“Banana liked you,” she informed Leo seriously while skipping beside him through the golden afternoon light. “I think snakes know when people are nice.”
I nearly choked.
Leo looked down at her slowly. “That’s a dangerous assumption, signorina.”
“Nope.” She swung the oversized zoo gift bag in her tiny hand. “You’re nice as pie.”
“Poison pie?” Leo laughed. “Fuck, maybe.”
Sienna gasped dramatically. “Chiara! Snakey said a bad word.”
I froze mid-step. Leo froze too. Then he looked at her with genuine disbelief. “Snakey?”
She nodded proudly. “Because you’re The Serpent.”
I pressed my lips together so hard they hurt. Leo stared at the six-year-old like nobody had ever spoken to him this way before in his entire life. And maybe nobody had.
“You just gave a very dangerous man a very strange nickname,” I managed weakly.
Sienna looked delighted with herself. “It’s cute. Like Snakey.”
Leo rubbed a hand slowly over his jaw like he didn’t know whether to laugh or question every life choice that brought him here. Then, horrifyingly, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he said to my little sister.
“I know,” Sienna replied confidently.
The soft golden light filtering through the zoo pathways caught in Leo’s dark hair while Sienna continued happily rambling beside him, completely fearless now. Watching them together did something strange to me. Because Leo wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t acting patient to manipulate her.
He genuinely listened when she spoke. Answered every ridiculous question seriously. Slowed his naturally intimidating stride for her tiny legs without even thinking about it. The realization unsettled me deeply.
As we walked past the koi ponds, Sienna grew quieter. I noticed the shift. So did Leo. He glanced down at her small face. “What happened to all the talking?”
Her little shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Nothing.”
Instead of pushing, he slowed his pace slightly until the three of us drifted farther behind the zoo staff trailing us nervously from a distance.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “when I was little, I didn’t talk much either.”
That caught Sienna’s attention. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked.
Leo was quiet for a second. “Because nobody asked me questions nicely.”
The answer hit me right in the chest. Sienna looked thoughtful about that. Then she quietly asked, “Were you lonely?”
I looked sharply at Leo. Something unreadable flickered across his face before disappearing again as he said, “Yes.”
The honesty in that single word stunned me.
Sienna’s little hand slowly slipped into his.
Just like that. Like she instinctively knew he’d once been lonely enough to understand her.
I saw the exact moment Leo realized it too.
His large tattooed hand looked almost absurd wrapped carefully around her tiny fingers.
And somehow, impossibly, he held on gently.
“Mama used to say lonely people need extra love,” Sienna whispered after a long silence.
Everything inside me stilled. Beside me, Leo’s expression changed almost imperceptibly. Sienna noticed. Then fear flashed across her face. Real fear. Like she’d just done something forbidden. Her fingers started slipping from Leo’s hand.
“Sorry,” she whispered quickly. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
My heart cracked. Even now. Even after death. Papa’s threats still haunted us all. Leo crouched slowly in front of her until they were eye level.
“No one is angry at you,” he said quietly. Sienna looked uncertain.
“We’re not allowed to talk about Mama,” she whispered. I felt sick hearing it aloud.
Leo’s jaw tightened slightly, but his voice stayed calm. Gentle. “Who told you that?”
Sienna’s eyes darted nervously toward me first. Then she whispered, “Papa.”
Something cold entered Leo’s expression for half a second before vanishing again.
“What happens if you talk about her?” he asked softly.
Sienna hesitated. Then very quietly: “Papa gets mean.”
Rage flashed through me so fast I almost couldn’t breathe. But Leo stayed perfectly still. Perfectly patient.
“What was your mama’s name?” he asked. Sienna froze like the question itself scared her.
I could practically see the conflict inside her tiny body. Fear battling longing. And God, I understood it. Because we’d all spent years forcing ourselves not to say her name aloud. Like speaking about her might somehow summon violence. Leo waited.
Didn’t pressure. Didn’t command. Just waited.
Finally, barely above a whisper, Sienna said, “Elena.”
The name hit me so hard my eyes burned. Elena. I hadn’t heard it spoken aloud in a long damn time. Sienna looked terrified after saying it, like she expected the sky to split open. Instead, Leo simply nodded once.
“That’s a beautiful name.”
Something inside me shattered quietly watching that little girl realize she wasn’t going to be punished.
Sienna looked up at him uncertainly. “Really, you think so, Snakey?”
“Yes,” he nodded firmly.
“She smelled like roses,” Sienna whispered softly now, words starting to spill out faster. “And she sang to us at night.”
My throat tightened painfully. Leo listened to every word like it mattered. Like Sienna mattered.
“She braided my hair too,” Sienna continued. “But not as good as Chiara.”
“That sounds unlikely,” Leo said gravely as I self-consciously touched my hair, loose around my shoulders. “Your sister has forgotten how to braid, I think.”
Sienna giggled. Then she started talking about our mother in earnest. About the lullabies she used to sing. The pastries she baked secretly with us in the kitchen. The way she kissed scraped knees. The stories she told us when storms frightened us at night.
And through all of it, Leo stayed crouched beside her listening with a softness I’d never seen from him before. Not pity. Something deeper. Recognition, maybe. Like he understood exactly what it meant to lose the only gentle thing in your childhood.
By the time we finally returned to the Ventura estate that evening, Sienna was completely attached to him.
“Snakey, carry me,” she demanded sleepily the second we stepped out of the car. I expected Leo to refuse. Instead, he simply lifted her into his arms without hesitation.
She curled against his chest like she belonged there. My heart did something deeply stupid at the sight.
The warm glow from the mansion windows spilled across the driveway while we walked toward the entrance together. For one fragile moment, it almost felt like something normal. Like family.
Then the front doors burst open. And reality came rushing back.
Papa stumbled down the front steps looking barely human.
I stopped dead in my tracks. He was drenched in sweat despite the cool evening air.
His expensive clothes hung loose on his body like he’d lost weight rapidly over the last few days since the wedding.
Dark circles hollowed out the skin beneath his eyes. His hands shook violently.
And the smell alone was enough to make me turn up my nose.
Sickness. Rot. Something deeply wrong.
“Leo,” he rasped desperately.
Sienna shifted in Leo’s arms. Thank God she was asleep. My stomach turned. Papa practically collapsed reaching us.
“Please,” he choked out hoarsely. “Please help me.”
Leo went completely still beside me. No expression. No reaction. Just cold silence. Papa grabbed weakly at Leo’s coat sleeve with trembling fingers.
“Please… please, Moretti… I’ll do anything,” Papa managed.
Ice flooded my veins. Leo slowly looked down at the hand touching him. Then calmly removed it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You need to help me,” Papa gasped. “Please!”
“Careful,” Leo interrupted softly. “Don’t fuck up my clothes, Ventura.”
The sheer terror on my father’s face made nausea crawl through me. This man, who had no problem with my little sister spilling on him, was threatening my father for the same thing.
Papa looked weak. Helpless. Afraid. And beside me, The Serpent watched him with cold unreadable eyes while my little sister slept safely against his chest. The image of my father stayed burned into my mind the entire drive home.
I sat silently beside Leo in the back of the Rolls-Royce while city lights blurred gold beyond the windows. My hands rested stiffly in my lap, but inside, everything felt tangled and wrong.
Papa had looked horrific. Not angry. Not powerful. Not untouchable. Weak. Terrified. Dying. And the worst part? Some dark, ugly little piece of me thought he deserved it.
The realization made nausea twist through my stomach.
Beside me, Leo remained infuriatingly calm, one large hand resting loosely against his thigh like tonight had been completely ordinary. Like my father hadn’t practically collapsed at his feet begging for help.
I kept stealing glances at him.
At the sharp line of his jaw. At the tattoos disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt. At the utterly unreadable expression on his face.
Did he poison Papa?
The question screamed through my head over and over.
I thought back to the way Papa’s hands trembled. The sweat. The sickness in his eyes. The desperate begging for my husband’s help.
And then Leo’s cold, effortless response.
My pulse fluttered unevenly. Did he do it?
I should have asked Leo for help for Papa. Instead, all I could think about was my mother. Blood on marble floors. Sienna crying. Aurora screaming. Matteo trying to shield us. And Papa standing over all of us like a monster.
I hated myself for the relief curling quietly inside my chest.
The penthouse elevator opened directly into silence.
Soft amber lights glowed across polished marble floors while the city glittered endlessly outside the glass walls. Usually, the height of the penthouse made me uneasy. Tonight, after seeing my old home again, it almost felt peaceful.
Leo loosened his coat slowly as he walked farther inside. I lingered near the windows, still distracted by the image of my father barely able to stand.
“He looked awful,” I whispered finally.
Leo glanced toward me. “Yes.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” I said.
“I’m not.” The answer sent another strange chill through me.
I turned fully toward him. “Did you…”
“No,” he interrupted smoothly.
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t even finish the question.”
“You were going to ask something annoying.” He chuckled as if this was all a joke to him.
Despite everything, a tiny disbelieving laugh escaped me. Leo’s expression softened faintly at the sound. God. There it was again. That terrifying softness.
He crossed the penthouse slowly until he stood directly in front of me. Up close, he still smelled faintly like expensive cologne and winter air from outside. Warm spice. Dark wood. Something dangerously masculine that made my pulse betray me every single time.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. The question caught me off guard.
“I…” My throat tightened unexpectedly. “I don’t know.”
His gaze searched mine carefully.
“You had a good day today,” he said.
I had a beautiful day. With him. The realization felt dangerous enough to ruin me. Sienna laughing. Leo holding a tiny snake carefully in tattooed hands. The zoo lights reflecting in his dark eyes while he listened to stories about my mother like they mattered. My chest ached.
“Yes,” I admitted softly. “I did.”
Something almost possessive flickered across his face at the confession. Like hearing I was happy pleased him more than it should have. Leo held my gaze for another long second before turning away abruptly. The heavy penthouse doors clicked shut. Then locked.
My heartbeat stumbled.
I watched him move calmly through the enormous space, drawing the dark curtains closed one by one until the glittering skyline disappeared behind black silk and shadow.
The room changed. Smaller. More intimate. Dangerous.
“Leo,” I said carefully. He turned toward me slowly while loosening the cuffs of his black shirt.
“You know,” he murmured, voice lower now, rougher somehow, “I think your day is about to get a lot better.”
Heat climbed up my throat. I swallowed. “Why?”
A slow smile spread across his mouth. Not cruel. Worse. Hungry.
“Because,” he said quietly, stalking back toward me with deliberate unhurried steps, “I’m finally about to give you what you’ve been begging for so desperately.”
My breath caught. Every nerve in my body woke up at once. Leo stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him already.
One large hand slid slowly along my waist. Gentle. Possessive. My pulse thundered violently.
“And this time,” he murmured against my ear, “I’m not stopping.”