★★Mariella's POV★★



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The world feels like it's spinning, but I can't tell if it's from the martinis or the chaos brewing around me. Three drinks in, and I'm navigating dinner like it's a battlefield. Iyana, my unexpected saving grace, has kept me sane with gossip and laughter, but even that can't prepare me for what's coming.

We're on dessert now, the clinking of forks against plates filling the silence as my father and Marcel exchange polite words. Then, Marcel, with his insufferable curiosity, turns his attention to me.

"And you, Mariella?" His voice cuts through the chatter like a knife, pulling every set of eyes at the table toward me.

I freeze, my fork suspended mid-air. I hate being put on the spot. My heart pounds, the weight of their amusement and expectation pressing down on me. "Oh," I start awkwardly, forcing a polite smile as my mind races. "Well, I plan to help my brothers with the Italian mafia here, of course." I glance briefly at Enzo, then add with a touch more confidence, "But I also want to build something of my own back in New York—a business that's mine, but still supports our legacy. Something that expands our reach."

The words sound smooth enough, but inside, I'm gripping onto my composure for dear life. At least it's not a complete lie—just vague enough to keep their curiosity at bay.

Or so I hope.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Leon's smirk, his gaze searing into me like he knows I'm squirming.

I hope you're enjoying this, you bum.

My father clears his throat, the sound slicing through the moment with authority. "Mariella," he says, his tone sharp, the kind of sharp that makes everyone sit up straight. I know that look—it's the don't you dare look.

I roll my eyes. "What?" I snap.

Papa straightens, his voice calm but laced with warning. "I wouldn't exactly say that."

Oh, here we go.

I scoff, the irritation bubbling up inside me. "Papa." My voice carries a dangerous edge, but he doesn't flinch.

"Mariella," he says, his tone shifting to one of quiet steel. "Please."

I glance around the table, everyone watching us like spectators at an opera. My father's expression is firm, unyielding, the look of a man who's not asking.

And then it clicks. He's about to say it.

My pulse spikes. The words fall from his mouth like a hammer.

"Niko Zervos."

The name sends a shockwave through me, and my blood turns to fire.

Of all people.

I toss my napkin onto the table, the motion deliberate and loud, breaking the silence. "If you think for a second, Papa, that I'll marry that excuse of a man, Niko Zervos—you're wrong." My voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

The tension in the room reaches a fever pitch. Marcel and his wife exchange uncomfortable glances, but I don't care. My father's face hardens, but I don't give him a chance to respond.

I turn to Marcel and his wife with a tight smile. "Enjoy dessert," I say, my tone dripping with false sweetness. "Please excuse me."

Before anyone can stop me, I spin on my heels and stride out, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I can feel Gio trailing behind me like a shadow, but I don't stop. I can't stop. The weight of the evening is pressing down on me, and I need air.

I keep walking until I reach the pond on the side of the house, the cool night air biting at my skin. My breath is ragged, my chest rising and falling as I try to calm the storm inside me.

"Mariella." Gio's voice breaks through the quiet.

I stop but don't turn around. "Gio, please leave me be," I say, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions.

He doesn't listen. Instead, he steps in front of me, blocking my path. "Mariella, what's wrong?" His eyes search mine, and I can feel the tears threatening to spill.

I swallow hard, trying to steady my voice. "Gio," I snap, my tone sharper than I intended. "Just leave me alone."

But he doesn't move, his concern etched into every line of his face.

Anger and frustration boil over, and I shove past him, my hands trembling. I make my way to the bench by the pond, the moonlight reflecting off the water, the ripples mirroring the chaos inside me.

I slump onto the bench, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands. The tears threaten to fall, but I fight them back with everything I have. Behind me, Gio lingers, keeping his distance but never taking his eyes off me.

The silence between us is deafening, the weight of unspoken words pressing down like a heavy blanket. But for now, I need this moment. A moment to breathe. To feel the fire burn out before it consumes me completely.

I sit in cold silence, staring at the pond. The reflection of the moon dances across the rippling water, a distorted, silver sky.

It's beautiful. Quiet. Peaceful.

For the first time all evening, I feel the tension in my body loosen as I lean back, letting out a slow exhale.

Then the unexpected weight of a jacket drapes over my shoulders, snapping me out of my trance. My head jerks up, startled. It's Leon. He's standing over me, his broad frame silhouetted against the faint glow of the house behind him. Without a word, he adjusts the oversized jacket around me, the warmth of it already sinking into my skin.

I glance down at the leather material swallowing me whole and then back up at him. "I thought you didn't give two shits if I was cold," I murmur, narrowing my eyes.

Leon doesn't reply immediately. Instead, he takes a seat next to me, his movements unhurried, casual. The smell of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something darker, muskier—envelops me. I hate how safe it makes me feel, how grounding his presence is despite the chaos of the night.

He smirks as he leans back, pulling a cigarette box and lighter from his pocket. "I don't," he says, finally responding, his voice low and teasing. "You're just my coat hanger for a bit."

He flicks the lighter, the flame momentarily casting shadows across his sharp features. The brief glow makes him look dangerous, like some dark fantasy that stepped right out of a fever dream. He brings the cigarette to his lips—those lips that I've spent way too much time imagining in places they shouldn't be—and takes a drag.

Smoke curls out of his mouth, snaking into the air like it's following his every command. My throat tightens, my chest betraying me as my heart pounds harder than I'd like. He's maddeningly calm, his presence dominating the quiet without trying.

And me? I'm a mess.

My clit pulses traitorously, heat blooming low in my stomach, and I have to squeeze my legs together in a desperate attempt to control myself.

"I know I'm good-looking, but damn, princess" Leon says, breaking the silence. His voice is light, teasing, but I can feel the razor-sharp edge of his amusement. "I can hear you breathing like I just saved you from drowning." He exhales another stream of smoke, not even looking at me as he speaks, like he knows exactly the effect he has on me.

My cheeks burn, and I snap my mouth shut, turning my head sharply to face the pond, as if it'll distract me. "I'll drown you," I mutter, my tone defiant, but my body betrays me—heat lingers everywhere his jacket touches, the scent of him still wrapping around me like a vice.

We sit in silence for a moment, the tension thick in the air. The only sound is the faint rustling of trees and the distant chirping of crickets.

Then, Leon breaks it, his voice laced with mock curiosity. "So," he says, taking another slow drag from his cigarette, his eyes flicking toward me. "Who's on the list of little princess's potential husbands-to-be?"

My head snaps toward him, my glare sharp enough to cut glass. He's grinning now, one corner of his mouth tugged up in that infuriating way he always does when he knows he's getting under my skin.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I spit, my tone laced with venom.

"Immensely," he says, smoke curling out as he grins wider.

I scowl, but his laughter—a low, rumbling sound—makes the corner of my mouth twitch, threatening a smile I refuse to let form. Damn him. Damn his smirk, his stupid cologne, and the way his presence makes my carefully constructed walls feel like paper.

"If I have to marry, I'll run away to some far-off island," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I let the words fall from my mouth. "I'll build a hut on the beach, live off coconuts and raw fish, and just... disappear. No family, no bullshit. Just peace. Like that one movie in Blue Lagoons" I almost feel smug at the thought.

Leon raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he takes another slow drag from his cigarette. "Oh, so now you're some exotic wanderer, huh?" he says, his voice laced with mockery. "What are you gonna do when the reality hits and the coconuts stop tasting so sweet? Maybe you'll realize that peace doesn't come from disappearing—it comes from facing what you're running from." He flicks the ash from his cigarette, his eyes locking onto mine with that challenging glint.

I feel my pulse quicken, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. "I'm not running from anything," I snap, glaring at him. "It's not about peace—it's about being left the hell alone."

Leon leans forward, eyes narrowed, that smirk never fading. "So you think isolating yourself on a deserted island is the answer?" He pauses, letting the question hang in the air. "What happens when you get bored of the silence? What happens when you're still stuck in the same mind, with the same problems?" He exhales a puff of smoke, letting the words settle between us. "You can run, but you can't hide from your own head."

I bite my lip, not wanting to admit he's right. I didn't expect this. I was imagining the beach, the solitude, but he's right in one way: it would only be temporary. The thought stings.

"Why don't you just let me have my fantasy?" I mutter, irritated by his ability to cut straight through my deflection. "I don't need your judgment."

He chuckles darkly, flicking his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his boot. "I'm not judging you, Mariella," he says, voice low and almost teasing. "I'm just saying it's cute. You've got this whole idea of running away, but we both know you'd be bored out of your mind in a week. No family, no chaos? You'd miss it."

I lean back harshly, my anger flaring. "You have no idea what I'd miss," I hiss, my voice trembling with the tension that's finally boiling over. "You think you know me, Leon, but you don't know shit."

Leon leans in closer, his face inches from mine, his presence all-consuming. His gaze never wavers, the intensity of his words wrapping around me like a vice. "I think I know exactly what you need. And it's not some damn beach," he says, his tone shifting from mocking to something darker, more serious. "You crave more than that. You're too damn intense for coconut life, little princess. You need chaos to keep breathing. Otherwise, you'll suffocate."

The words hit me harder than I expect, the truth in them crawling under my skin. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a flicker of panic surge through me. He's too close, his proximity sending waves of heat through me, but it's his words that make my chest tighten. He's right in a way, and that thought gnaws at me, sharper than I want to admit.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to put some distance between us, but it feels impossible. His voice is like a dark melody in the quiet of the night, and I can't seem to pull myself away.

"You don't know me," I say, my voice trembling slightly, but I can't quite meet his eyes. It's a defense, and I know it's weak.

"I know enough," Leon responds, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. "More than enough, little princess. You might fool everyone else, but you can't fool me."

The words hang in the air between us, thick with tension. Every fiber in my body is screaming at me to stand up, to leave him behind, but something in the way he watches me—like he's uncovered a truth about me I've been trying to hide—keeps me rooted to the spot.

Then.

He grabs my thigh, a jolt of electricity runs through my body, and I'm lifted onto his lap with a gentle yet firm motion. His hands wrap around my waist, holding me in place as I straddle him, my knees on either side of his leg. My ass settles onto his thighs, and I can feel the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. My hands instinctively go to his chest to steady myself, and I'm met with the solid wall of his muscles.

We're face to face, our noses almost touching, and I can feel the heat emanating from his skin. My heart is racing like a jackrabbit, and my breath catches in my throat as I gaze into his eyes. They sparkle with mischief, and I can sense the air thickening with anticipation.

He raises his cigarette to his lips, the flame from the lighter casting a golden glow on his chiseled features. As he inhales, his eyes never leave mine, and I'm transfixed by the way the smoke dances in the air. He holds it in his mouth for a moment, and I can see the smoke swirling, taunting me.

Then, in a movement that sends shivers down my spine, he exhales, and the smoke trails across my face, carrying the scent of tobacco and something else - something primal and intoxicating. My lips part, and I'm aware of his gaze tracing the shape of my mouth, his eyes burning with desire.

His hand leaves my waist, and his fingers graze my jaw, sending sparks flying through my skin. The touch is like a branding iron, leaving an imprint that I can feel long after he's withdrawn his hand. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I'm sure he can feel the vibrations through his body.

As he leans in closer, his face inches from mine, I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. My lips tingle, anticipating the touch of his, and I'm aware of the space between us shrinking, disappearing. The world around us melts away, leaving only the two of us, suspended in this moment of raw, unbridled attraction.

And then, in a move that leaves me gasping, he exhales again, and the smoke trails through my parted lips, carrying the essence of him into my very being. I feel like I'm drowning in the sensation, like I've been initiated into a secret world of pleasure and desire. It's as if I've lost all sense of control, and I'm at the mercy of this man, this stranger who's awakened something deep within me.

The room spins around me, and I'm left feeling like a schoolgirl who's just experienced her first kiss - tentative, vulnerable, and yet, simultaneously, I'm aware of a deep-seated longing, a hunger that can't be satiated. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I'm left gasping, my heart pounding in my chest, as I realize that I'm completely, utterly, and totally at his mercy.

As I inhale the smoke, its sweet, intoxicating flavor fills my lungs, and I can feel his eyes on me, burning with desire. His smirk grows, and he takes a step closer, his gaze roaming over my body, lingering on the curve of my breasts beneath the blue silk fabric. The air is electric with tension as his hand trails down my hip, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

He grips my hip, his touch possessive, and I can feel the hardness of his groin pressing against me through his pants. A low, husky whimper escapes my lips, and his eyes flash with excitement. My clit throbs, rubbing against the rough fabric of his pants, and he notices, his eyes locking onto mine with an unmistakable spark of arousal.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he lifts his leg, applying pressure to my clit, and I feel a jolt of pleasure course through my body. My eyes close, and I groan, my hands instinctively reaching for his tie, grasping it tightly. He groans, his voice low and rough, and leans in, his lips grazing my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"You really think you'll find someone to make your pussy throb for me in your little fucking fantasy land?" he whispers, his breath warm against my skin, the words dripping with challenge. "You won't get anything close to this, Princess. No one will make you feel the way I do."I feel a rush of excitement, and my head tilts, exposing my neck, inviting him to explore. His nose grazes my skin, and I moan, the sound barely audible, but he hears it, and his groan of approval is like fuel to the fire burning between us.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find something to keep me entertained, Leon. Maybe not you, but I'll manage just fine," I tease, leaning just a fraction closer, my voice low and playful. "Though, I can't promise I won't miss...this." The words are a challenge, a spark to the flame that's burning out of control. He pulls back, his eyes blazing with desire, and his voice is low, rough, "God, you're intoxicating, princess." The word "princess" is a growl, a soft, menacing sound that sends shivers down my spine.

The air is charged with tension, heavy with anticipation, as I straddle his legs , locked in a silent understanding. The world around us melts away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the depths of our desire. His eyes burn with an inner fire, and I can feel the heat emanating from his body, drawing me in, tempting me to surrender to the flames that threaten to consume us both.

I smirk mischievously at his response, the martinis coursing through my veins, emboldening me to take a chance. I lift my knees, and with a slow, deliberate movement, I lower myself onto his groin, my body grinding against hard on, the friction between us sending sparks flying. I grip his tie, my eyes locked onto his, the intensity of the moment palpable. He growls, his eyes flashing with desire, as he throws his cigarette aside and grips my waist, his fingers digging deep into my skin.

He's straining himself, his body tense, as he tightens his jaw, the sound of his groan music to my ears. I stare at him, my eyes never leaving his, as I continue to grind against him, the sensation building to a crescendo. I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, my climax looming, and I know I need to stop, to pull back before I lose control. I lean my head against his chest, using him to steady myself, as I struggle to maintain my composure.

I pull his tie closer, and his body jerks forward, his hips thrusting against me, the movement sending shivers down my spine. "If I'm in my fantasy land, no one will make you feel like what I just did," I say, my voice husky, annoyance lacing my tone. He smirks, but it's short-lived, as his expression turns serious, his eyes burning with an inner fire.

He lifts me up, and I feel a rush of air as he plops me down beside him, my body trembling with desire. I grip the bench to steady myself, my legs weak, as he dusts himself off, his movements crisp, controlled. He's about to walk away, but not before he says, "You'd be surprised, princess," his voice low, serious, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

I watch him walk away, my body still throbbing with desire, my mind reeling with frustration. "That fucking fucker" I mutter to myself, anger and annoyance warring for dominance.

You'd be surprised? More like fucking fuming.

I notice his jacket still draped over my shoulders, and with a sudden surge of frustration, I rip it off, the fabric tearing slightly as I yank it away. I storm towards the back of house, the jacket clutched in my hand, my eyes scanning the room until I spot Gio, confusion etched on his face.

I glance down at the jacket in my hand, feeling the weight of it like a reminder of everything I want to forget in this moment. Without thinking, I shove it into Gio's chest, my movements sharp and fueled by frustration. "Burn it," I snap, my voice cutting through the air, my anger rising like steam from a boiling pot.

Gio's taken aback, his usual calm demeanor faltering for just a second. His eyes meet mine—something unreadable in them—and he doesn't say a word, just silently accepts the jacket, his fingers lingering on mine for a brief, charged moment.

I turn away before he can even ask what's going on, my heart pounding and my breath shallow. I don't need him questioning me right now. The only thing I can think about is how the burn of what just happened lingers on my skin, how my body still hums with that fire. I don't look back as I walk away, my mind spinning, torn between desire and the chaos that I just can't seem to escape.

Leon will regret it.

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OHHHHRRR????!!!

WHAT JUST HAPPENED??!

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡