10. Kara
Kara
Leander Moretti.
The name hangs in my mind, suffocating every reasonable thought I’ve had for the last three weeks.
"Kara," my father's voice cuts through the quiet room, sharp and thunderous. "What is the meaning of this?"
I slowly turn my head toward Antonio Rossi. "I told you that I wasn't interested in your contracts, Father. I came tonight as Leander's guest."
"He is a Moretti!" Antonio steps forward, pointing a broad finger at Leander. "You walk into this room on the arm of Roberto's illegitimate son while my signatures are still wet on the transit agreements?"
"I don't give a damn about your signatures, Antonio," Leander snaps. His voice has a raspy, icy edge in it that makes the two bodyguards behind my father hesitate. "And my name is Sartori."
"Sartori is your dead mother's name, you bastard!" Vincenzo yells, trying to push past Leander's shoulder again. "She belongs to me! The Don signed off on it!"
And this is the man my father expects me to marry? Never!
"She doesn't belong to anyone in this room," Leander quips.
Don Roberto holds up a single, manicured hand. The entire room goes dead silent once again. The patriarch of the Moretti family looks at his eldest son, then at my father, and finally brings his gaze back to Leander.
"Release your brother, Leander," Roberto commands quietly.
Leander holds Vincenzo for one more second, just long enough to make it clear he's doing it on his own terms and then shoves Vincenzo back. Vincenzo stumbles two steps, clutching his collar, glaring at Leander with pure, unadulterated hatred.
"We are leaving," Leander says to Roberto.
"You step out those doors," Antonio Rossi barks at me, "and you don't come back to my house, Kara."
I turn to look at my father. "I haven't considered that house my home since I was eighteen, Antonio."
Leander catches my hand as he turns his back on the entire room, shielding me with his frame, and guides me straight down the center aisle toward the grand glass doors. Nobody moves to stop us. The guests part like water, their whispers buzzing against the gilded ceiling behind us.
The night air hits my face the second we push through the revolving glass doors. We enter the car and sit in silence for a minute. He rests both hands on top of the steering wheel, his head bowed slightly, his breathing heavy in the dark cabin.
I sit in the passenger seat, taking off my silver earrings one by one and dropping them into my small clutch.
I ran away from one Moretti only to end up with another one.
"Say something," Leander whispers softly, his eyes fixed on the windshield.
"Which part do you want me to start with?" I ask. "The part where you're the son of the most dangerous mob boss in the city, or the part where your brother is the man my father is trying to force me to marry?"
Leander turns his head to look at me. The streetlights outside cast long, amber shadows across his sharp jawline and dark eyes.
"I didn't know," he mutters. "I knew Roberto was negotiating a distribution deal with a shipping boss named Antonio Rossi. I just didn't know you’re his daughter.”
"You never thought to mention your real last name?" I ask, leaning back against the leather headrest, my eyes locking onto his.
"My last name is Sartori," Leander replies firmly. "It's on my birth certificate, my medical license, it's the name on my apartment lease. I haven't taken a dime, a favor, or an order from Roberto Moretti since I was seventeen years old."
I stare at him reading the absolute truth in his face. The cold, disciplined distance he maintains at the hospital, the way he lives in a quiet condo away from the estate, the lack of mafia guards around his personal life, it all fits together.
And he’s definitely different from his brother.
"I am his second son," Leander continues while turning the key in the ignition. The engine purrs to life, warming the dark cabin. "My mother was his mistress. She died when I was twelve. Roberto brought me to the estate after that. I left the day I got my acceptance letter to medical school."
He pulls out into the street, his one-handed grip tight on the wheel.
"And you?" Leander asks, glancing over at me as we hit the main avenue. "You work at Metro General for seventy-five thousand a year while your father owns half the commercial docks on the river."
"I left two years ago," I tell him, looking out the side window at the blurred neon signs. "I put myself through law school with student loans and academic grants. I didn't take my father's money because every dollar from Antonio Rossi comes with a leash attached."
"And the betrothal?"
"It has been in the making for years," I answer, a bitter edge slipping through my composure.
"He told me he signed the contracts with your father on Thursday.
He said if I refused to marry Vincenzo, he'd use his connections to ruin my legal career, kick me out of my office, and have his men pack my apartment. "
Leander's jaw tightens so hard I hear the faint click of his teeth. His right hand leaves the wheel to find my knee, his fingers pressing firm and grounding against my leg.
"Vincenzo is never touching you," Leander mumbles. “I’ll make sure of that.”
I look down at his hand on my leg, then back up at his dark profile. "I don't need a savior, Leander. I can handle my father."
"You shouldn't have to," he replies.
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the ten-minute drive.
When he pulls his sedan into the street parking outside my brownstone building, he cuts the engine.
I grab my clutch, open my door, and step out. Leander gets out immediately, stepping around the hood, taking the keys from his pocket, and walking beside me up the three flights of carpeted stairs to my apartment.
I unlock the front door, step inside, and flip on the small table lamp near the sofa. The warm light fills the living room.
I toss my clutch onto the counter, unbuckle my silver heels, and step out of them, standing barefoot on the hardwood floor. I turn around to face him.
Leander is standing near the front door. He has taken off his jacket, hanging it over the back of my entry chair.
"Why did you ask me to that gala, Leander?" I ask, resting my hands on my hips.
"Because my father threatened me with the hospital," Leander walks two steps toward me. "He told me to bring a date from his network to show stability, but I didn’t want to so I chose you because I knew you wouldn't flinch around his people."
"And?" I prompt, stepping closer to him.
"And because I couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispers softly. "Every time I walked down the administrative hall at work, I looked for your door. Because after the night at my condo, pretending you were just a legal liaison was driving me out of my mind."
There it is. The truth.
"I tried to stay away from you," I tell him, my voice dropping into a quiet register. "When my father mentioned the betrothal on Thursday night, I came back to this apartment and swore I wouldn't let you get close to me. I thought bringing you into my mess would drag you into a war with Vincenzo."
"I've been at war with Vincenzo my entire life, Kara.” Leander says softly.
He reaches out, his hand catching the side of my neck, his thumb resting gently against my pulse point. I can feel the heat radiating off his palm, grounding me, cutting through the anger and chaos of the last hour.
"I don't care about your father's docks," Leander says, looking straight into my eyes. "I don't care about the Moretti distribution network. And I don't give a damn about a betrothal contract signed by two old men. I like you… a lot.”
"I like you too, Leander, but my father won't let this go," I warn him, leaning into his touch despite myself. "If I walk away from Vincenzo, Antonio will try to destroy everything I've built."
"Let him try," Leander drawls. "He'll have to go through me first."
"I don't want you fighting my battles for me, Dr. Sartori," I mumble. "I'm a lawyer. I know how to untangle contracts, and I know where my father's legal vulnerabilities are. If we're doing this, we do it together."
Leander stares at me for a long beat. A small, genuine smile appears on his face and what looks like respect.
"Together," he repeats softly.
"No more professional boundaries," I say, reaching up to catch the lapels of his open shirt, pulling him down toward me. "No more pretending that what happened was an adrenaline mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake," Leander murmurs, his dark eyes dropping to my mouth.
"Good," I whisper. "Because I'm tired of lying to myself."
Leander closes the remaining inch between us, his mouth coming down on mine in a deep, slow, possessive kiss.
His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet until my front is pressed flush against his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling into the damp dark hair at his nape, pulling him closer, anchoring myself to him.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, both of us are breathing heavily in the quiet warmth of my apartment.
"You realize what happens from now on?" I ask softly, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "Vincenzo will be furious, my father will be making calls, and your father will be waiting for your next move."
"And we will be waiting for them. I’m not running anymore.” Leander says, his raspy voice steady and completely unbothered.
I let out a short breath, looking up into his eyes.
"Neither am I.” I tell him.
He kisses me again, softly this time, a slow, promising press of his lips against mine before sliding his hands down to my waist, guiding me toward the hallway leading to my bedroom.
For the first time in two years, the weight of my family's name doesn't feel like a cage. Sitting in this quiet apartment with Leander Sartori, I don't feel like a pawn or a trading chip on a transit manifest.
I feel wanted just for being me, I feel powerful and it’s all because of Leander.