★★Leon's POV★★



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I step out of the building, Damien and Antonio still at my side, rattling off more business bullshit—numbers, projections, deals, expansions. As I zone out, my phone buzzes, breaking through the noise. An unknown number. I pause, motioning to the guys to keep talking while I take the call.

"Ouais? (Yeah?)" I answer, already expecting something irritating.

"Leon," my father's voice cuts through, sharp and demanding. "Where is Iyana?"

I pause mid-step, the irritation already bubbling up. "What do you mean? She's at home, I assume. Why?"

"She wasn't in her bed this morning. No one's heard from her. Her phone's off. You need to get her back to her room—now."

I roll my eyes, but I keep my voice steady. "Relax, Sir. She's fine. She's with the De Angelis family. Probably stayed the night with Mariella or one of her friends."

I can hear my father's exhale on the other end, the frustration in his tone rising. "What the hell do you mean, the De Angelis family? She's supposed to be at home. Find her, Leon. I don't care where she's at, just make sure she's back—now."

I try to hold back a sigh. My father's always been this way—controlling, paranoid, wanting everyone under his thumb. I'm his son, which means it's my responsibility to calm his fucking nerves.

"She's at the De Angelis household" I repeat, more firmly this time. "You don't have to worry. I'll check in with her, but I already know where she is. Just let it go."

There's a pause on the other end. I can feel his frustration radiating through the phone, even though I'm sure he's not pleased with the situation. But the truth is, Iyana's with Mariella—no harm, no foul. I know the family well enough to know they'd take care of her. Still, my father's paranoia won't let up easily.

"I don't care if she's with them, Leon. Get her back. This isn't the time for your laid-back attitude."

I grit my teeth, the urge to snap back rising in my chest, but I keep it in check. "It's fine. She's not missing, and she's in good hands. Don't call me again about this."

"You're responsible for her, Leon. Don't make me repeat myself."

I'm done. "J'ai dit que je m'en occuperais. Elle va bien. Maintenant, détends-toi. (I said I'll take care of it. She's fine. Now relax)."

I end the call before he can say anything else, sliding my phone back into my pocket. Damien and Antonio are still talking behind me, but I'm not really hearing them anymore. I know where she is. Iyana's safe. But I'll still go check in on her—just to make sure my father stays off my back.

I glance over at the guys, who're still clueless about the situation.

"We gotta make a pit stop to the De Angelis " I tell them, straight to the point. "I'm heading over there now."

Damien looks confused, but Antonio just shrugs, not that it matters.

I already know Iyana's not in danger, and I'm more than ready to get this over with. But the old man can't help himself—he's as paranoid as they come, and if I don't show up, I know I'm going to hear about it until I die.

"Alright, let's get this over with," I mutter to myself as I head toward the car, ready to make a stop at the De Angelis household.

I pull up to the gates of the De Angelis estate and come to a full stop, rolling down the window like I'm doing a high-stakes negotiation. I spot the same guard from last time, the one who's clearly done with my nonsense. I lean out, flashing him a smile that's way too friendly for someone who's about to get on his nerves.

"Hey, buddy! You remember me, right?" I ask, all innocent-like.

He doesn't look impressed, just stares at me like I'm the last person he wants to deal with. He looks at his partner, probably weighing whether or not he can call in backup. "Leon Laurent," he grumbles, his voice thick with annoyance.

I tap the side of my head, as if the answer's a total mystery. "Ding ding ding! Look at you, a regular detective! A plus for you, my man."

He just crosses his arms, clearly not amused. "What do you want?"

I lean forward, pretending to think really hard, like I'm doing some kind of mental gymnastics. "Ah, right. I'm here to pick up my sister. You know, the one who's about yay high"—I hold my hand up at an exaggerated height—"with a face that could launch a thousand ships? You remember her? Cute little thing. Makes everyone wanna pinch her cheeks." I throw in a big, exaggerated wink for good measure.

The guy just stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language. "You're insufferable," he mutters, deadpan.

I grin and lean back in my seat. "Oh, come on, don't pretend like I'm not making your day. You're lucky I'm not doing my stand-up routine right now; you'd be rolling on the floor."

He looks at his partner, sighing heavily like he's already reached the end of his rope. "Just go in, Laurent. But don't do anything stupid."

I throw up my hands in mock surrender. "Me? Do something stupid? Never. You should be thanking me for keeping things interesting around here."

With that, I put the car in gear and start driving through the gates, shaking my head in amusement. Some people just don't appreciate the entertainment value I bring. I chuckle to myself as I drive, knowing I'm probably the highlight of their night—even if they'd never admit it.

As we pull up to the De Angelis mansion, I turn off the car and step out, Damien groaning under his breath like he'd rather be anywhere but here, while Antonio practically bounces on his heels like an excited puppy.

"You look like you're about to ask for a tour of the place," I mutter to Antonio as we walk up the grand double doors.

"What? I appreciate nice architecture," he grins.

Damien rolls his eyes. "If you start asking about the crown molding, I'm leaving you here."

I chuckle as I reach up and ring the doorbell, the deep chime echoing through the entire house. We barely wait a few seconds before the door swings open, revealing a small, elderly woman. She blinks up at me, eyes widening slightly.

I smirk. "Good morning, ma'am," I say smoothly, glancing down at her.

She offers a warm smile, her gaze flicking between the three of us. "Good morning, Mr. Laurent. What brings you boys here?"

"My sister. I assume she's here?" I ask, casually peering behind her into the house.

She nods and steps aside, motioning us inside. "Of course. She's freshening up right now, but you're more than welcome to wait in the dining room."

We step in, and she leads us through the house with practiced ease. The place smells like freshly brewed coffee and something sweet—probably whatever their chef whipped up this morning.

As we approach the dining room, I spot Luciano sitting at the head of the table, sipping coffee, with Enzo and Santino beside him. Their conversation dies the moment they see us.

Luciano stands, his sharp eyes assessing before he gives us a welcoming smile. "Boys. What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

We shake hands, and I offer a respectful nod. "Good morning, Mr. De Angelis. I apologize for the unannounced visit. My father was concerned that Iyana wasn't home this morning."

Luciano waves off my explanation with a small smile. "Ah, yes. Iyana. Lovely girl. There's nothing to worry about—my daughter was kind enough to offer her a place to stay for the night."

I return the smile. "Then I'll be sure to thank Mariella personally."

Before Luciano can respond, a guard steps in. "Capo, hai una riunione tra poco. Dovremmo iniziare a dirigerci. (Boss, you have a meeting coming up. We should start heading out.)"

Luciano nods, then looks back at us. "Unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend. But please, make yourselves at home."

We reply in unison, "Thank you."

Luciano signals Enzo, who rises from his seat, gives us a brief nod, then follows his father out of the room. That leaves just us and Santino, who's eyeing us over his coffee cup, looking entirely too amused.

He leans back in his chair, smirking. "You guys don't have to stand there looking like you're at a job interview. Sit down. Mi casa, su casa, y'know?"

Damien scoffs. "That's what people say right before they poison you."

Santino laughs. "Damn, you got trust issues. But hey, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't waste good coffee on it."

I shake my head with a smirk and take a seat, Antonio and Damien following suit.

Santino motions toward the housekeeper. "Lucia, grab some refreshments and—oh, and those good cookies you make." Then he stands and stretches. "I'll go fetch your sister."

I nod. "Appreciate it, Santino."

He gives me a mock salute and strolls off, leaving us in the grand dining room, the scent of coffee thick in the air. I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.

Now, let's see how this plays out.

****

As we sit at the dining table, I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms behind my head. Damien looks bored out of his mind, tapping his fingers against the table, while Antonio is happily munching on a cookie like he's never had food before.

I smirk. "Enjoying yourself, Tony?"

Antonio nods with a mouthful of cookie. "These are amazing, man. We need to get whoever made these to work for us."

Damien rolls his eyes. "You're embarrassing. Act like you've had sugar before."

Antonio just shrugs, stuffing another one in his mouth.

I chuckle and glance at Damien. "So, think Father will chew us out when we get back, or is he just going to give us that disappointed stare?"

Damien scoffs. "It's Father. He'll do both. He'll probably sigh real dramatically, rub his temples, and then tell us how we're all disappointments."

Antonio laughs. "Sounds about right."

Before I can respond, footsteps echo from the hallway, and in walks Iyanna—fresh-faced, glowing, and wearing clothes that are definitely not hers.

Damien narrows his eyes at her. "Whose clothes are those?"

Iyanna crosses her arms, unimpressed. "Bonjour à toi aussi, frère. (Good morning to you too, brother.)"

Damien tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

She sighs and flicks a strand of hair over her shoulder. "They're Mariella's. She said I could borrow them."

Hearing her name sends a small jolt through my chest. My body tenses, but I keep my expression neutral. Mariella.

I lean forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table. "And where is the princess?"

Iyanna gives me a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Miss her already?"

I smirk, but I don't answer. Instead, I pick up my coffee, taking a slow sip.

She sighs. "She's still getting ready, I think. I just finished calling Father, by the way."

Damien, Antonio, and I all turn to her at the same time.

"Tu as fait quoi ? (You did what?)" I ask.

She shrugs, completely unbothered. "I called him. Told him I was fine, that I stayed the night here, and that he doesn't need to worry."

Damien leans forward, eyes dark. "And?"

"He calmed down," she says, plopping down into a chair. "He's fine now. Not mad anymore."

Antonio, Damien, and I exchange a look before we all collectively groan.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Antonio mutters.

I rub my temple, irritation bubbling up. "So, let me get this straight. He made us drive all the way here, deal with the damn gate guards, and sit through small talk, and now he doesn't even care?"

Iyanna shrugs. "Seems like it."

Damien exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Incroyable (Unbelievable). Next time, he can come get you himself."

Antonio grumbles, snatching another cookie off the plate. "I better get some compensation for this."

Iyanna smirks, clearly amused by our suffering.

I shake my head and lean back in my chair, but my mind isn't on our father anymore.

Mariella's in this house. Somewhere. And I have every intention of seeing her before I leave.

Iyanna is seated with a full breakfast in front of her—eggs, toast, fruit, the works. The three of us? We just sit there, arms crossed, staring at her in pure irritation.

She looks up from her grapefruit, chewing slowly before setting her fork down with a sigh. "You know, staring is my biggest pet peeve," she says, glaring at us.

We ignore her and keep staring. She huffs and takes another bite. Before anyone can say anything, loud voices spill through the air, breaking the tension.

"Lucia, I told you, Mellow needs a whole new climbing set! My baby deserves nothing but the best!"

The voice is unmistakable. Mariella.

Then, a small meow follows.

"I know, baby, you deserve everything and so much more," she coos, her voice softer now, full of affection.

Footsteps approach, and then she turns the corner, stopping dead in her tracks when she sees me. Her face pales, lips parting slightly in surprise.

In her arms, she's holding a tiny, white, fluffy cat.

I smirk, trailing my eyes down her frame. She's wearing a white blouse tucked into form-fitting jeans, paired with nude heels. A simple outfit, but damn, does she make it look good.

She straightens up, swallows hard, and glances at all three of us before tilting her head mockingly. "Wow. The three blind mice. What a lovely surprise."

Antonio raises a brow. "Good morning to you too," he says dryly.

She rolls her eyes and mocks his tone perfectly. "Good morning to you too," she mimics, crossing her arms.

I can't help but smirk at her attitude. I lean back in my chair, parting my legs slightly, watching her reaction. Her gaze flickers to my posture for a split second before she quickly looks away, feigning indifference.

Iyanna, completely unbothered by the tension, cuts in. "Thanks for the clothes, by the way," she says between bites of food.

Mariella finally moves, walking over to grab a stool and sitting a few feet away from us. She waves a dismissive hand. "Of course. Keep 'em." Her eyes flick to me for a second before landing back on Iyanna.

"Oh, really? Thanks," Iyanna says, smiling. Then, as if she suddenly has a bright idea, she adds, "You should really come over to our house sometime."

Damien sighs dramatically, shaking his head. "Iyanna, I think she's enjoying her little princess treatment here too much to leave."

I smirk, watching Mariella's reaction closely.

She whips her head toward Damien and scoffs. "Oh, absolutely. I wake up every morning to birds braiding my hair, and Lucia sings me lullabies before bed. Total royal treatment."

Antonio and Iyanna burst out laughing.

Damien shrugs, smirking. "I mean, that sounds about right."

Mariella rolls her eyes but can't hide the small smirk tugging at her lips.

I rest my chin on my fist, eyes still locked on her. "And here I was thinking you just enjoyed the company."

She turns to me, expression unreadable, but her grip on the tiny cat tightens slightly.

"Aw, Leon," she coos mockingly. "If I ever need a personal space invader, you'll be my first call."

Antonio snickers, and Damien shakes his head, but I only grin wider.

God, she's fun to mess with.

She narrows her sharp, hazel eyes at me, pure irritation flashing in them. "Actually, I need a good word with you," she says, her voice laced with frustration.

I smirk as she stands in front of me, arms crossed like she's ready to lecture me. I lean on my hand, completely relaxed, just to piss her off more.

"Get up," she snaps, her tone demanding.

She doesn't wait for me to react—just spins on her heel and places her tiny, spoiled white cat on the floor. My eyes trail down the way her hips sway with every step as she storms outside onto the back patio.

Damn.

I groan under my breath, watching her ass move so damn seductively it should be illegal.

Antonio snickers. "Ooooh, someone's in trouble."

I flick him a look as I push myself up.

Damien smirks. "Can't keep the ladies waiting," he mocks.

I roll my eyes and follow her outside. This is going to be interesting—I already know exactly what she's pissed about.

She's standing with her arms crossed, back straight, exuding confidence as I step out behind her. I take my time, strolling with my hands in my pockets, leaning lazily against one of the patio pillars, legs crossed.

She spins around, her eyes locking onto mine like she's ready to kill me. I hum in response, playing it cool.

"Wanna explain the shit you pulled yesterday?" she says, her voice sharp and impatient.

I chuckle softly, watching how her eyebrows furrow together, how her lips pout slightly in frustration.

She's adorable when she's mad.

I tilt my head slightly, my gaze flickering to her lips, and she notices.

Her expression hardens. "Stop looking at me like that," she snaps.

I ignore her, letting my eyes drop lower, trailing over the curve of her chest.

She scoffs when she realizes exactly where my gaze is lingering, then suddenly storms toward me, her hand raising fast—she's about to slap me.

But I'm faster.

I catch her wrist midair, my grip firm. She gasps softly, realizing her mistake, and I straighten up to my full height, towering over her, forcing her to look up at me. Her breathing hitches, but she masks it with anger.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," I tease, my grip still tight on her wrist.

She glares, struggling against me. "Yeah, because I saw your ugly, stupid face first thing in the morning," she snaps.

I grin. "Flattering."

She yanks at her wrist, still trying to free herself, but in a blink, I use my other hand to grab her waist and spin her around, pressing her against the pillar with her back to me.

She grunts, struggling harder.

"Oh, now you're dead," she growls, preparing to knee me where it hurts.

I catch her leg easily, gripping her thigh firmly and pushing my body flush against hers, pinning her completely.

She gasps, her breath shaky.

"You like it," I murmur against her ear, my voice dropping into something darker, more dangerous.

She stiffens but doesn't fight me as hard anymore.

I smirk. "You like it when I'm rough with you, huh, little princess?" I whisper, my lips ghosting over the shell of her ear.

She bites her bottom lip, trying to suppress any reaction, but I don't miss the way her body trembles slightly against mine.

"Tell me," I continue, my voice like velvet. "Do you like it rough in bed, or are you the soft, delicate type?"

I brush my lips along her jaw, barely touching her, but it's enough to make her shiver.

She lets out a soft, unintentional moan.

Fuck. My cock twitches, like it's begging to be released.

I grin, knowing I've got her exactly where I want her.

"Do you get wet when I paint those dirty thoughts into your pretty little head?" I murmur, pressing my body harder against hers, feeling the heat radiating off her.

She whimpers.

I chuckle darkly, finally stepping back.

She snaps her head toward me, her expression a mix of confusion and frustration. She scoffs, trying to shake off whatever spell I just put her under.

I shove my hands back into my pockets, forcing myself to stay in control.

Because right now?

All I can think about is taking her, raw, right here, against this pillar.

The tension between us is thick, but I revel in it. I love watching her squirm, her annoyance barely veiling the fire behind those hazel eyes.

I tilt my head, breaking the silence between us with a slow smirk. "So... how was the date?" I ask, my tone casual but laced with something darker.

Mariella's expression tightens. She shakes her head in frustration, crossing her arms. "How'd you get my number?" she snaps, ignoring my question completely.

I chuckle, stepping in just a little closer, invading her space. "You can't answer a question with another question, princess," I tease, my voice low.

Her lips curl into a smirk. "Well, you don't answer mine," she fires back, her tone matching my own.

I grin, enjoying this game. "Is me getting your number really what you're worried about?" I murmur, my eyes dragging over her face, down to her parted lips.

She licks her teeth in irritation before exhaling sharply. "Yes, Leon. Do you know how hard I had to bullshit Niko when my phone went off during dinner?" she says, glaring at me.

I chuckle, amused at the thought of her trying to smooth over my little interruption.

Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Not funny," she snaps, crossing her arms tighter.

That only makes me laugh more.

"Leon," she warns, her voice low and threatening.

I lift my hands in surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright," I say, feigning innocence. "I guess it was a little funny."

She rolls her eyes, but I don't miss the way she shifts slightly, like she's resisting the pull between us.

Then my voice turns darker, my teasing laced with possessiveness. "You really thought I was gonna sit back and let you wine and dine another man?"

She lifts an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "What, are you jealous?" she taunts.

I clench my jaw, my playful smirk faltering for a second. "Answer the damn question, Mariella. What did you find out about him?"

She tilts her head, pretending to think. "Hmm... nope. I don't feel like sharing."

My patience snaps slightly, and I grab her wrist, pulling her flush against me. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess," I murmur, my lips inches from hers.

She hums, her free hand dragging slowly up my chest, fingers grazing over my shirt. Her touch is light—too light—enough to drive me insane but not enough to satisfy.

"Jealousy looks good on you, Laurent," she whispers, her fingers reaching my collar, toying with the fabric.

I grab her hand, my grip tight, and she gasps softly at the sudden force. "Keep testing me," I warn, my voice sharp, controlled, but barely.

Her lips curl into a smirk, and she leans up, her mouth barely ghosting over my jaw. "Or what?" she breathes against my skin.

I exhale harshly, my fingers tightening around her wrist. Fuck. She knows exactly what she's doing.

She leans in even closer, pressing just enough against me to make me want to slam her back against the wall and ruin her, but then—

She steps back.

Her expression smug, she tugs her wrist free from my grip and smirks. "Stop playing with me, Leon," she says sweetly, before turning on her heel and walking toward the house.

I stand there, my jaw clenched, my fists tightening at my sides as I watch her disappear inside.

My blood boils.

That fucking woman.

I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. She's making me lose my damn mind, and the worst part? She knows it.

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and the crowd is.....

Well well well... if the turn have table.

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡

*Mariella's outfit*