★★Leon's POV★★



✧✧✧✧✧✧

The scent of her lingers on my skin, a haunting reminder of the sparks that flew between us. The sound of her soft whimpers still echoes in my mind, and I can almost feel the gentle touch of her fingers on my chest. My gaze drifts back to the memory of her, pinned against the wall, her wrists trapped above her head, and her eyes flashing with a mix of fear and desire. The white dress she wore seems to glow in my mind's eye, a beacon of innocence and purity that I'm desperate to corrupt.

I force myself to move, tearing my attention away from the tantalizing image of her. Damien's voice snaps me back to reality, sharp yet laced with concern.

"Any luck?" he asks, his eyes narrowing as they search my face.

I shake my head, my jaw tight with frustration. "No," I bite out, the word sharp and weighted.

Damien exhales, his brow furrowing. "Damn it. He's slipping further through our fingers."

We weave through the crowd toward the bar, the pulse of music and bursts of laughter from the partygoers surrounding us like a haze. I need a drink—something strong enough to dull the edge of this gnawing desire and quiet the storm raging inside me.

Damien's eyes flick to me, sharp and assessing. His gaze lingers on my rigid shoulders and the fists I've unconsciously clenched at my sides. "Leon," he says carefully, his voice low but probing, "you alright?"

I nod sharply, my response clipped. "I'm fine, Damien." The edge in my tone should end the conversation, and thankfully, he seems to take the hint. I don't want to talk about it—don't want to admit how deeply she's managed to worm her way under my skin.

My gaze drifts away from him, scanning the room with purpose until it lands on her. She's gliding toward the dance floor, her movements fluid and self-assured. The confidence radiating off her is magnetic, and it draws every man's attention like moths to a flame. My jaw tightens as I watch them watch her, their stares dripping with desire.

My gaze follows her, my eyes tracing the curves of her body, the bare skin of her back, and the tantalizing slope of her ass. My cock twitches, my pants growing tight as I struggle to contain my desire. I feel like a wild animal, ready to pounce and claim her as my own. My thoughts are a jumble of twisted fantasies, each one more depraved than the last. I fantasize about the way she'll writhe beneath me, her body trembling with a mix of fear and desire as I drive into her with reckless abandon. I wonder how much she'll take, how much she'll endure, and how much she'll enjoy. Will she be a fragile, delicate flower, or a fierce, unyielding temptress?

The more I think about it, the more I become obsessed with the idea of pushing her to her limits, of testing her boundaries, and of shattering her defenses. I want to know how much she can handle, how much she can take, and how much she'll surrender. The thought of her begging for mercy, of her pleading for release, is a tantalizing prospect, one that fills me with a dark, primal excitement.

Just as I'm about to make my move, Damien's voice cuts through my thoughts, "Ah shit, Luka's approaching," he warns, his eyes locked on the older man making his way towards us.

Can't fucking catch a break.

I take a deep breath, smoothing out my features, and turn to face Luka. "Ah, Luka Demir," I say, my voice enthusiastic, as I extend a hand to the older man. "It's been a while."

Luka's face creases into a warm smile, "Leon Laurent, it's good to see you, son," he says, his voice dripping with affection. We shake hands, and I feel a sense of obligation to make small talk. "How's business been treating you, Luka?" I ask, my tone polite.

Luka launches into a detailed account of his latest ventures, and I listen intently, trying to feign interest. But my mind keeps wandering back to her, and the way she's currently laughing with Niko on the dance floor. My grip on my drink tightens, my anger and possessiveness simmering just below the surface.

"...and then, I managed to secure a deal with the Russians," Luka says, his voice rising in excitement. I nod, my smile tight, "Congratulations, Luka. That's quite an achievement." But my attention is already drifting back to the dance floor, and the sight of her, spinning and twirling to the music.

Damien's voice cuts through my haze, "Leon, you okay?" he asks, his eyes locked on mine, a hint of warning in his tone. I nod, my response curt, "Yeah, I'm fine." But I'm not fine.

I'm seething with possessiveness, and my patience is wearing thin.

As I continue to make small talk with Luka, my gaze drifts back to the dance floor, and I see her, laughing, her body swaying to the music, with Niko's hands on her waist. My vision narrows, my focus solely on the two of them. I feel my anger and possessiveness rising, like a storm about to break.

"Leon?" Luka's voice cuts through my haze, and I'm forced to turn back to him, my smile tight and fake. "Excuse me, Luka. My brother will continue this lovely conversation. I have matters to attend to." I say, my voice clipped, as I turn away from him, and make my way towards the dance floor, towards her. The tension builds inside me, a powder keg waiting to explode. I'm not sure what I'll do when I reach her, but I know it won't be good.

As I approach them, the music and laughter of the party fade into the background, and all I can focus on is the tempting sight of Mariella, her curves swaying to the rhythm, her eyes sparkling like diamonds in the light. She catches sight of me, and her expression freezes, a look of shock and unease crossing her face. It's as if she's seen a specter, a monster rising from the depths of her worst nightmares. And in that moment, I know I am that monster, the one who will haunt her every waking moment.

Her gaze locks onto mine, a challenge, a warning, a dare. She thinks she can stop me, thinks she can keep me at bay with a simple glance. But I'm not so easily deterred. I smirk, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face, and I can see the fear flicker to life in her eyes. She knows I'm not to be underestimated, that I'm a force to be reckoned with.

Niko, oblivious to the tension between us, turns to me, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness. "Leon," he says, his voice cautious, and I can sense the unease emanating from him. He thinks I'm here to start a fight, to shed blood. But I'm not here for that, not yet. I'm here for Mariella, to claim her, to make her mine.

"Anything I can help you with?" Niko asks, his attempt at confidence faltering under the weight of the tension. His voice wavers, betraying the nerves he's desperately trying to hide.

I grin—a slow, deliberate smile that's as much a warning as it is a threat. Taking a step closer, I watch him instinctively retreat, the space between us shrinking as his composure cracks. His eyes flick to Mariella like she's some sort of lifeline, but the fear etched into his face is unmistakable. It's written in the tremor of his hands and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Yes, actually," I reply, my voice a low growl laced with menace. "You can excuse yourself."

The words cut through the tension like a blade, and I glare at him, my eyes locking onto his with unrelenting intensity. The fear radiates off him in waves, palpable and satisfying. Niko glances at Mariella, as though hoping for some intervention, but her impassive expression offers no refuge.

His gaze shifts back to me, and I can see the gears turning in his head, the calculation etched across his face. He knows—just as clearly as I do—that he's out of his depth. His best move is retreat, and he knows it. The faint quiver in his stance gives him away as he contemplates fleeing while the option is still on the table.

Mariella, however, looks utterly amused by the scene unfolding before her. A sly smile curves her lips, and she leans back ever so slightly, as though savoring the tension crackling in the air. "Thanks for the dance, Niko," she purrs, her voice low and dripping with seduction. "But I'm sure Leon has more... pressing matters to address."

Her gaze flicks to me, bold and unyielding, her expression a deliberate challenge. She's telling me, without words, that she's not intimidated, that I don't scare her.

But I know better.

Beneath her confident facade, I catch it—the faintest flicker of fear in her eyes. A spark. One I intend to nurture, to stoke until it burns bright and undeniable.

Niko straightens his suit, nods at Mariella, and beats a hasty retreat. I watch him go, a satisfied smile spreading across my face. And then I turn to Mariella, my eyes locking onto hers. She glares at me, her arms crossed, her hip cocked to one side. She thinks she's angry, thinks she's furious. But I can see the spark of attraction in her eyes, the spark that I'll ignite into a raging inferno.

"Hi, princess," I murmur, my voice low and rich, the words laced with a quiet intensity. She arches an eyebrow, feigning mock surprise as her lips curl into a sly smile.

"Really now?" she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Leon."

I chuckle, the sound deep and unhurried, laced with a dangerous edge. "Jealous? Me?" I echo, tilting my head slightly, my gaze burning into hers with sharp amusement. "Not quite. Just making sure you don't get yourself into trouble—someone has to keep an eye on you, princess."

Her lips part, a retort clearly on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitates, her confidence flickering as my words sink in. I can see it—the push and pull in her gaze, caught between defiance and something far more vulnerable.

I reach out, my hand closing around her wrist, and I can feel the electricity spark between us. She tries to pull away, but I hold tight, my grip like a vice. "You're hurting me," she says, her voice low, husky, and I can sense the spark of fear in her eyes.

"Am I?" I whisper, my breath caressing her ear. "So easily?" I ask, my voice low, husky. She looks up at me, her eyes flashing with anger, and I can see the fire burning within her.

We start dancing, our bodies moving in perfect sync, our hips swaying to the rhythm. She's stiff at first, but as the music washes over us, she begins to relax, her body melting into mine. I can feel her heat, her passion, and I know I've got her right where I want her.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself with your boyfriend, princess," I whisper, my breath brushing against her ear, my words deliberate and cutting.

She tilts her head up, her fiery gaze locking onto mine. Her eyes flash with anger, a storm brewing within them, and I can practically feel the heat of her defiance.

"That's none of your business," she snaps, her voice sharp, yet there's a faint quiver underneath, a mix of fury and something she's not ready to admit.

I smirk, leaning in just a fraction closer, my tone soft but taunting. "Isn't it? You don't strike me as the type to settle for mediocrity, princess."

Her jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, it feels like the room around us fades away, leaving just the tension crackling in the air between us.

"Let's get two things straight, Leon," she says, her voice dripping with both venom and allure, her eyes boring into mine with fiery intensity. "One, I'd rather wrestle a pissed-off grizzly bear while covered in honey than be with that pathetic excuse for a man." Her glare sharpens, her lips twisting into a scowl that's as fierce as it is captivating.

I stand there, watching her with a mix of amusement and intrigue as the air between us grows thicker. The flicker of defiance in her eyes only makes my smirk widen.

"And two," she continues, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a low, sultry growl. "My name isn't princess. It's Mariella. Call me princess again, and I'll make sure the next thing you whisper is an apology through broken teeth."

The corner of my mouth twitches into a grin, her threat both amusing and enthralling. "Noted, Mariella," I reply, the sound of her name rolling off my tongue like a dare.

My cock twitched at the sound, and I leaned in closer. "Does anyone ever tell you that you look cute when you're mad, princess?" I whisper, my lips brushing ever so slightly against her ear, a deliberate act of provocation.

Her entire body stiffens, and her eyes flash with fiery anger. But there's no missing the telltale dilation of her pupils, betraying the storm brewing beneath her defiant exterior.

Her lips curl into a dangerous smile, her voice low and sharp as a blade. "Does anyone ever tell you how cute you'll look with a broken nose, Leon?" she hisses, her breath hot against my neck.

I chuckle, a deep, amused sound that only seems to ignite her fury further. "Careful, Mariella," I murmur, savoring the way her name feels like a spark between us. "Your threats are almost as distracting as your pulse racing under my touch."

Her hand twitches at her side, and I know she's fighting the urge to slap me—or worse. The tension between us crackles like a live wire, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if she'll kill me or kiss me first.

She tried to pull away, but I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Our lips were almost touching, and I could feel the heat emanating from her skin. She looked up at me, her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. The tension between us was palpable, and I could feel the anticipation building.

I pulled back slightly, my gaze narrowing as I spoke, my voice low and rough. "Niko is dangerous." The words were a warning, the weight of them heavy in the air between us.

But to my surprise, Mariella just chuckled, the sound light and carefree, her breath teasing my skin as she leaned in, her lips dangerously close to my ear. "You think I don't know that?" she murmured, her voice dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge.

Her smile curled like smoke—intriguing, unpredictable. "I've had worse come at me before," she added, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver through me. "And I'm still standing. Niko's just another speed bump in my way."

Her confidence, the raw, untamed power radiating from her, made me question everything I thought I knew about the situation. But I couldn't help the small, impressed smirk that tugged at the corner of my lips. "Is that so?" I asked, my voice steady, though the tension was palpable.

"Yeah," she answered, her gaze never leaving mine. "So unless you plan on stepping in, I suggest you back off, Leon."

Her words were a challenge, and the fire between us only burned brighter. She reached up, her hand trailing down my chest, her fingers brushing against my cock. I groaned, my jaw clenched, as she whispered. The touch sent shivers down my spine, and I could feel my control slipping. My grip on her tightened, and I pulled her closer, our bodies almost aligned. Mariella's eyes sparkled with amusement, and she knew she had the upper hand. She was toying with me, teasing me, and I was powerless to stop her.

But then, she stopped, her hand hovering just above my cock. I could feel the anticipation building, and I knew I was on the edge. She looked up at me, a sly smile spreading across her face, and then she let go, walking away with a seductive sway to her hips. I watched her, my eyes fixed on her round ass, and I couldn't help but smirk.

God, she's prefect.

I turned away from the dance floor, my thoughts still swirling around Mariella, but I forced myself to focus. Damien and Antoine were still by the bar, their heads thrown back in laughter as they watched the aftermath of the scene.

They were enjoying this—too much.

I marched over to them, my jaw tight, the anger bubbling up inside me. As soon as they saw me, their laughter faltered, but their smirks didn't fade. Damien leaned back, crossing his arms, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"What's wrong, Leon? Something on your mind?" Damien's voice was laced with mock concern, but I wasn't in the mood for his games.

Antoine nudged Damien, his smile wide. "That was one hell of a scene, huh? Thought we were gonna have to pull you off that guy."

I glared at both of them, my temper flaring. "You two think this is funny?" I growled, my voice low and controlled, but laced with fury. "You think it's a fucking joke?"

Damien raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in my mood. "Come on, it was just a little fun, relax brother"

But it was too much.

I could feel the tension creeping up my spine, the sharp sting of irritation curling in my chest. "We're leaving," I snapped. "Now."

The words hit them harder than I expected. Damien's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he took in my expression. Antoine blinked, clearly thrown off guard. "Wait, what?" Damien asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Leaving? Why?"

I didn't answer right away, my hands curling into fists. "I'm done with this. I didn't come here for a fucking circus act. We're leaving the gala now."

Antoine looked between Damien and me, a flash of confusion passing across his face before he finally shrugged. "Alright, dude, if that's how you want it."

Damien pushed off the bar, his usual playful demeanor gone. He could see I wasn't in the mood to argue. "Fine," he muttered, clearly frustrated but willing to go along with it. "Let's get the hell out of here."

I turned on my heel and made my way toward the exit, not looking back. The laughter, the music, the chatter of the gala—all of it felt like it was closing in on me. My mind was consumed with one thing: Mariella. And I couldn't escape the fact that, no matter how much I wanted to ignore it, I was already entangled in her web.

✧✧✧✧✧✧

Leon??Jealous???

oh-ohhhhh

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡