★★Leon's POV★★



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After several exhausting meetings about our situation with the Greeks, my father finally decides to make his grand entrance. The door slams against the wall as he bursts in, his presence immediately suffocating the room.

"Pourquoi les Grecs doivent-ils être si pénibles ? (Why do the Greeks have to be such a pain in the ass?)" His irritated voice booms through the space.

Damien and Antonino groan in unison, their disapproval evident. Lili keeps her eyes glued to her laptop, wisely ignoring the commotion. Robert, however, looks completely caught off guard, his wide-eyed gaze shifting between my father and me.

Mariella, who had only just decided to attend after discovering the truth about her mother's killer, sits at the table, looking utterly unimpressed. She rests her head on her hand, lazily chewing a piece of bubblegum. The moment my father's eyes land on her, she barely reacts—just the slightest twitch of her lips in irritation.

"Father, lovely to see you," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

His sharp gaze locks onto me as he plants both hands firmly on the table, leaning forward. "Dis-moi comment Niko Zervos s'est échappé, (Tell me how Niko Zervos escaped.)" he demands.

I lean back in my chair, one arm draped over the armrest, feigning nonchalance. "Ils ont bombardé tout le bâtiment, nous tuant presque tous. (They bombed the whole damn building. Nearly killed all of us.)" My voice is even, but there's an underlying edge to it.

My father exhales sharply, lowering his head between his shoulders, shaking it in disappointment before scanning the faces around the table. His gaze finally settles on Mariella. She doesn't even bother to sit up properly, still resting her chin on her palm as she blows a bubble with her gum, letting it pop lazily.

A small smirk creeps onto my father's lips as he approaches her. "Ms. De Angelis," he says, his tone shifting to something more calculated. "I wasn't aware you were in attendance at that little... event."

Mariella finally sits up, rolling her shoulders back. "Didn't have much of a choice," she says flatly, flicking her gaze to him. "Niko was practically breathing down my neck, pleading for me to come."

My father chuckles, his eyes narrowing. "I also heard," he muses, "that you were expected to marry Niko Zervos." His voice is casual, but there's a trap hidden within his words.

Mariella's reaction is instant. Her lips curl in visible disgust, and a sharp, mocking laugh escapes her. "Wow, Mr. Laurent," she says, twisting a string of gum around her finger. "Didn't peg you for the gossiping type."

As I gaze at her, I'm captivated by the subtle movement of her lips as she plays with the gum. The way they purse and relax, like a gentle wave, has me entranced. I'm drawn back to the memories of our past encounters, where I've had the privilege of kissing her, tasting her, and feeling her unravel beneath me. The recollection of those moments sends a shiver down my spine, and my cock stirs, tensing with anticipation.

My mind begins to wander, imagining those plump lips wrapping tightly around my cock, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I picture the way she'd look up at me, her eyes locked onto mine, as she takes me in, her mouth moving in sync with my rhythm.

The thought alone is almost too much to bear, and I feel my desire for her surge to the surface.

But then, my father's voice drags me out of my thoughts. His expression darkens as he stares down at Mariella. "If you were so close to him, then I have to wonder—did you help him escape?" His voice is colder now, edged with suspicion.

The entire room stills.

Mariella blinks once. Then again.

As if she can't quite believe what she just heard. She sits up fully, her body rigid as her eyes slowly narrow at him. "Excuse me?" Her voice is low, almost dangerous.

"You were supposed to marry him. You spent time with him. You were there when he ran. So tell me, Ms. De Angelis, how do I know you weren't in on it?" he says as he walks towards her slowly.

A flicker of shock flashes across Mariella's face before it's quickly replaced by something much sharper—rage. Her jaw tightens, her fingers flex as if she's seconds away from reaching for a blade.

"Are you seriously interrogating me right now?" Her voice is cold, but there's an underlying fury simmering beneath the surface.

"I have to ask questions," my father continues, his tone almost condescending. "After all, why would a woman willingly agree to marry a man like Niko Zervos unless she had some sort of—"

He doesn't get to finish that sentence.

Mariella pushes back her chair violently as she stands, her movements sharp and full of purpose. "Let me stop you right there," she hisses, her voice slicing through the air.

The entire room tenses. No one speaks. No one moves.

No one ever talks to my father like this. Not Damien. Not Antonino. Hell, not even me. But I don't bother stepping in—because I know she can handle it. She handles me, and that's more than enough.

And yet, Mariella does. Without hesitation. Without fear.

"You want to know how I feel about Niko?" she asks, stepping toward my father, her presence commanding. "You want to know if I loved him?"

A humorless laugh escapes her lips. "That man's father had my mother murdered. Brutalized. Left to die like she was nothing. The only thing I want from Niko Zervos is his fucking head on a platter. And his father's right beside it."

Her voice is venomous, shaking with barely contained fury. "So no, Mr. Laurent, I didn't help him escape. But I will hunt him down. And when I do, I'll make sure he dies screaming."

Silence.

I can't take my eyes off of her.

No one dares to challenge my father, yet here she is—standing her ground, unwavering, unshaken. The fire in her eyes, the way her body vibrates with rage, the way she holds herself with power—it does something to me.

It makes me proud.

It makes me want her even more.

I'm utterly mesmerized.

My father watches her, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Well," he muses. "That's all I needed to know."

Mariella scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You could've just fucking asked instead of playing detective."

She drops back into her chair, crossing her arms, clearly done with this conversation. I can't help but smirk as I watch her, admiration burning through me.

My father chuckles, finally stepping back, shaking his head slightly. "Celle-là est difficile à gérer, Léon. Elle va lui causer plus de problèmes qu'elle n'en vaut la peine. (That one's a handful, Leon. More trouble than she's worth.)"

I glance at Mariella. She's still fuming, her chest rising and falling with anger, her eyes daring anyone to challenge her.

"Ouais (Yeah)," I say, my voice low with certainty as I watch her intently.

"She's worth every damn bit of it."

Mariella snaps her head toward me, eyes wide with something between shock and intrigue. Like she wasn't expecting that—like she's suddenly seeing me in a different light. Her lips part slightly, and for a brief moment, she just looks at me, searching for something in my expression.

I meet her gaze, unwavering, and smirk. Then, slowly, I wink at her.

Her cheeks flush instantly, a pretty shade of pink that makes my smirk widen. She rolls her eyes, trying to play it off, but the way she bites the inside of her cheek tells me everything I need to know.

Gotcha, baby.

My father finally settles into his seat, watching Mariella with an unreadable expression. The room is still charged from her outburst, tension thick in the air. I can feel the admiration burning in my chest—I knew she was fierce, but watching her stand up to him? That was something else.

No one, no one, ever challenges my father.

And yet, Mariella just did.

But now, there's business to handle.

"Alright," Damien finally speaks, breaking the heavy silence. "So, we know Niko ran back to Greece, which means he's under his father's protection. If we go after him now, we'd be walking straight into a death trap."

"So we bring him to us," Lili interjects, not even looking up from her laptop.

Mariella, still simmering from the interrogation, leans forward. "And how the hell do we do that?" Her tone is sharp, but I can tell she's intrigued.

Lili finally lifts her gaze, adjusting her glasses as she leans back in her chair. "It's simple. We give him a reason to come back. Right now, he thinks he's safe in Greece, hiding behind his father's power. But if we make it seem like his father's empire is crumbling here?" She shrugs. "He won't have a choice but to return and fix it."

Mariella narrows her eyes. "And how do we do that,"

Lili smirks as she says "We start by attacking his financials. Niko and his father control several underground trade routes across Europe, not just for weapons but for human trafficking, drugs, and money laundering. If we start shutting those down—hitting their accounts, exposing their shipments, causing disruptions—his father is going to have a serious problem on his hands."

Robert, who has been quietly observing, finally speaks. "It's not just about hitting their finances. We need to spread disinformation too. If we make it seem like there's an internal betrayal happening, Niko's father will be forced to take action. If he pulls back resources to deal with an imaginary traitor, Niko will have to come back to handle things himself."

Antonino nods. "And when he does, we'll be waiting."

I glance at Mariella, and she's tapping her fingers against the table, her mind clearly working through the plan. "So we starve them out," she mutters. "Cut off their resources, destroy their alliances, and force them into desperation."

Lili grins. "Exactly."

"I like it," Damien adds. "But we need to be strategic. We can't just start burning their businesses overnight, or they'll catch on. We have to make it look natural. Accidents. Leaks. Unfortunate circumstances."

Robert clicks his tongue. "That's where I come in. If we release just the right amount of intel to the authorities about certain illegal dealings—just enough to stir panic, not enough to trace back to us—it'll throw them into chaos. Niko's father will think someone inside his own organization is flipping on him."

Mariella smirks, a dark gleam in her eyes. "And while they're running around trying to put out the fires, we set the final trap."

I watch my father carefully. He's been completely silent through the entire discussion, just observing, his fingers steepled in front of him. That's unlike him.

I clear my throat and lean back, studying him. "You've been awfully quiet, Father."

His sharp gaze meets mine, then flicks to Mariella, then to the rest of the table.

A slow, calculated smile tugs at his lips. "You don't need my input," he says simply. "You've got a solid plan."

Mariella scoffs. "That's all you have to say? After grilling me like I was Niko's accomplice?"

His smirk deepens, and he tilts his head slightly. "I had to see what you were made of, Ms. De Angelis. And I must say—" his eyes gleam with something unreadable. "I'm impressed."

Mariella rolls her eyes, but I can see the slight flicker of satisfaction in her gaze.

"Alright," I say, standing up. "We put this into motion immediately. Lili, start hitting their accounts and setting up the leaks. Robert, coordinate the intelligence drops. Damien, Antonino—we'll need muscle ready for when Niko gets desperate enough to come crawling back.

Mariella—" I turn to her, and our eyes lock.

She raises a brow. "Yes, sir?"

I smirk. "I'll need you by my side for when we finally take him down."

Her lips curl in a slow, dangerous smile. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

And just like that, the trap for Niko Zervos is set.

Once the meeting is over, everyone begins to file out one by one. Mariella, however, stays put. She doesn't move a muscle, just watches—calm, patient, like a predator biding its time. The moment the door clicks shut behind the last person, she finally moves, turning her gaze on me.

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued. Leaning back in my chair, I rest an elbow on the armrest and smirk. "What's up, darling" My voice is low, teasing.

Mariella smirks in return, a slow, wicked thing, and rises gracefully from her chair. "What's up, baby" she purrs, making her way toward me, hips swaying just enough to make me bite my inner cheek.

I turn my chair toward her, my smirk widening the closer she gets. She plants a hand on the armrest, leaning in until her face is mere inches from mine. Her scent—something sweet, laced with danger—fills my lungs. My eyes drag down her face, down her lips, past her dress shirt, and lower, to the bare skin of her exposed legs.

She watches me with an amused flush blooming on her cheeks. "My family is probably worried about me, I have to go home." she finally says, voice softer now, like she's already reconsidering.

I reach out, curling my fingers around the loose end of her shirt, wrapping the fabric around my fist and tugging her closer. "You don't have to go," I murmur, my voice dark and velvety, daring her to stay.

Her hands trail up my shoulders, fingers feather-light but deliberate. She's testing me, teasing me, but I'm watching her like a wolf watching its next meal. My hands slide down to the back of her thighs, fingers tracing soft circles against her skin, traveling upward until I grab a handful of her ass. She shivers, and a small, breathy whimper escapes her lips.

I grin, loving her reaction.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp in a way that makes my chest tighten. Then, slowly, she swings a leg over and straddles my lap, settling herself down perfectly on my groin.

I grip her ass tighter, shifting her until she's exactly where I want her. My hands slide up, disappearing under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her bare skin, the softness that drives me insane.

"Fuck, Mari," I murmur, dragging my lips along the shell of her ear before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Her hands move to cup my face, tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet her dark, hooded eyes. A slow, mischievous smirk tugs at her lips. "You're so easy to tease, you know that?"

I chuckle, my grip tightening. "And you're playing with fire, baby."

Mariella chuckles, shaking her head as she strokes my hair, her nails lightly grazing my scalp. God, that feels good. My grip on her waist tightens, and I tilt my head back, letting her touch consume me for a moment. Her warmth, her scent—everything about her is intoxicating.

"Baby," she murmurs again, her voice softer this time.

I open my eyes, locking onto hers, and there's something different in them now. Something deeper. She's memorizing me, drinking in every detail like she doesn't want to forget. My hands slowly trail up her back, slipping beneath her oversized shirt. The moment my fingertips graze her bare skin, she shivers, her breath hitching.

I smirk. "I prefer Daddy."

She lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking her head. "God, I hate you."

I squeeze her waist, my fingers pressing into the curve of her hips as I pull her closer, making her feel exactly what she's doing to me. "Like wise."

She bites her lip, trying to suppress a smile, but I don't let her. My hands slide higher, my palms pressing against the small of her back as I ease her into me. Her breath stutters when I slip my fingers further up, tracing along her spine.

"Leon," she exhales, and fuck, the way she says my name makes my pulse hammer in my veins.

"Say it again," I murmur, my lips brushing against her jaw.

She tilts her head, giving me more access, and I take it. I drag my mouth down her neck, kissing, nipping—relishing the way she gasps when my teeth graze her skin. My hands wander, slipping under the fabric until my palms press against her bare waist, gripping her possessively.

"You're so warm," I breathe against her skin, my lips trailing lower.

She exhales shakily, her hands tightening in my hair as she shifts on my lap, pressing herself into me. My thumbs stroke her ribs, teasing, exploring, learning the way her body reacts. When my fingers slip just beneath her bra, her breath catches, and she releases the softest moan.

Fuck.

I grip her ass, rolling my hips up just enough to make her feel my cock straining against my pants her to let her know what she's doing to me. "You feel that, baby?" I whisper against her ear.

She exhales sharply, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "You're crazy" she mutters, but her voice is breathless, needy.

I smirk, dragging my hands back down, gripping the backs of her thighs and squeezing. "And you love it."

She leans in, her lips hovering just above mine, her breath mingling with mine. Her eyes flicker between my lips and my gaze, teasing me, testing me. I let her play her little game for a moment, but then I grow impatient. I grip her jaw, tilting her face to mine before finally claiming her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

She melts into me, her body pressing flush against mine, and I groan into her mouth when her fingers tug at my hair. Her lips are soft, intoxicating, addictive. My hands wander again, slipping beneath her shirt, my fingers mapping every inch of her perfect skin.

"Mine," I murmur against her lips, my voice rough with possession.

She smirks, breathless, her lips swollen from my kiss. "Yours."

That's all I need to hear before I kiss her again, pulling her even closer, refusing to let her go.

Her lips crash into mine, and I swear I could drown in her. The taste of her, the heat of her—everything about her drives me insane. My hands grip her waist, fingers digging into her soft skin as I pull her closer, desperate to have more. She's like a drug, addictive and dangerous, and I don't give a damn.

I trail my hands over her body, memorizing every dip, every curve, every shudder that runs through her when I touch her just right. My fingers slide beneath her shirt, tracing up her ribs, brushing just under her breasts. She gasps into my mouth, and fuck, that sound alone makes my cock twitch.

She fists my hair, yanking me closer, kissing me harder. Her hips roll against me, and I groan, gripping her tighter. My lips leave hers, dragging down her jaw, over her throat. I suck on the soft skin, tasting her, branding her. She tilts her head, granting me more access, and I take it without hesitation.

Her fingers trail down my neck, then lower. She's teasing me now, kissing that spot just below my ear, the one that makes my muscles tense. Then she sucks, slow and deep, and a low growl rumbles in my chest.

I'm seconds away from tearing her clothes off when—

Knock. Knock.

We freeze, breathing hard, bodies still pressed together like we're about to start a fucking war.

"I'm definitely not going in there," Damien calls through the door, his voice amused. "But, Mariella, your father is calling you."

Mariella groans against my lips, then rests her forehead against mine, laughing softly. "Shit, I have to go," she murmurs, placing a quick kiss on my mouth.

"The hell you do," I mutter, tightening my grip on her hips, trying to keep her right here.

She laughs, prying my hands off her. "Leon."

I huff, reluctantly letting her go, watching as she straightens her shirt and runs a hand through her messy hair. She's glowing—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes still hazy with lust. And she's leaving me like this.

"Unbelievable," I mutter.

She smirks at me, then winks. "I'll be back."

And with that, she's gone.

I'm going to make her fall in love with every single fucked-up part of me.

I want her to see me at my most depraved, to witness the darkness that lives inside me—the one that no one dares to look at too long.

And I want her to stay.

I want her to want it.

To want me.

She's already slipping under my skin, into places I didn't even realize were hollow until she filled them. Every smirk, every challenge, every time she pushes back against me like I'm not someone to be feared—like I'm just a man she wants. And that's the most dangerous part.

Because she makes me want to be hers.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, yanking me from my thoughts.

I grab it, irritation curling in my chest. "Quoi? (What?)"

"Nous l'avons eu (We got him,)" Marco's voice crackles through the speaker, and just like that, the warmth Mariella left behind is gone, replaced with something ice-cold.

I sit up straighter. "Qui? (Who?)"

"L'un des Grecs. Il était présent cette nuit-là au casino. Il a aidé Niko à s'échapper. (One of the Greeks. He was there that night at the casino. Helped Niko escape)."

My grip tightens around the phone, and the air in the room turns suffocating.

I exhale slowly, my jaw clenching. "Où est-il ?(Where is he?)"

"Entrepôt. Attaché. Il ne parle pas encore, mais il le fera. (Warehouse. Tied up. He's not talking yet, but he will)."

I don't respond right away. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the faint sound of Mariella's voice somewhere down the hall.

The Greeks bombed that building. Almost killed us all. They took their shot at me.

At her.

And now, I finally have one of their own.

I rise from my chair, rolling my shoulders, shaking off the last traces of softness Mariella left behind.

"Keep him breathing," I say, my voice dark and even. "I'll be there soon."

Then I hang up, already imagining the sound of breaking bones.

I get up and walk toward the door, opening it to find Mariella speaking to her father.

"Sì, papà, sto bene. (Yes, Dad, I'm okay.) "

She turns around and catches sight of me, pausing briefly before rolling her eyes.

"No, non devi portare Gio qui. (No, you don't have to bring Gio over here.) "

Her groan is full of exasperation, making me smirk as I lean against the doorway, crossing my arms. She notices but tries to ignore me, biting back a smile before responding again.

"Stasera torno a casa, non preoccuparti. (I'll be home tonight, don't worry.) "

Then softer, "Ti amo di più, papà. (I love you more, Dad.) "

She sighs as she hangs up, shaking her head. "He's worried because he found out I almost got blown to pieces," she mutters, clearly annoyed.

I smirk. "He had to know, Mari."

Her eyes narrow in confusion before realization dawns on her face. "You told him?"

I shake my head, confirming it. She crosses her arms, her hip popping out slightly, lips pouting in frustration.

"Why?" she presses, her voice a mix of disbelief and irritation.

I push off the wall, stepping toward her. She stiffens slightly but doesn't move away. I reach up, cupping her jaw, tilting her face toward mine so she has no choice but to look at me.

"Because, darling, he's your father. He deserves to know if something horrible happens to you." My voice is softer now, but firm.

She exhales sharply, her gaze flickering between my eyes. "Fine," she mutters, but there's something else—something she isn't saying.

Her voice drops, and she looks away. "But my father doesn't need to know everything. I haven't told him about..." She hesitates, gripping the hem of her sleeve.

I don't let her avoid it. I tilt her chin up again, making her look at me.

"About your mother," I finish for her.

Her entire body tenses, a shadow passing over her face.

She swallows hard, but she nods.

I brush my thumb along her jaw, my voice dropping lower. "Mariella, the longer you keep the truth from him, the more it'll hurt when it finally comes out."

She clenches her jaw, a storm brewing in her eyes. "You think I don't know that?" she snaps, but I see past the anger. It's not directed at me—it's the fear, the weight pressing down on her, suffocating her.

I step closer, my hand sliding to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her hair. "Then why keep it from him?" I challenge.

Her breath hitches.

"He deserves to know what really happened," I continue. "Keeping him in the dark won't protect him. It'll only make it worse when the truth finally hits."

She looks up at me, and for the first time, I see it—that flicker of uncertainty, the crack in the armor she wears so well.

"Because," she whispers, voice almost breaking, "I don't want to see the look on his face when he finds out the truth."

I stare at her, feeling the weight of her words settle deep in my chest.

"I get it," I say after a beat.

Mariella looks up at me, brows pinched, waiting for me to continue.

I exhale through my nose, my grip on her tightening slightly. "I kept the truth from you, too. About your mother. I thought I was protecting you. Thought it would be easier if you didn't know."

Her expression shifts—softens, like she understands exactly where I'm coming from.

"But in the end," I continue, voice steady, "it only hurt you more."

She swallows, her fingers curling against my chest as she takes in my words. I can see her mind racing, considering everything, weighing the consequences.

I tilt my head, brushing my thumb along her cheek. "You need to tell him, Mari. You can't shield him from this forever. He deserves the truth—just like you did."

She takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. "You're right," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smirk slightly. "I usually am."

She rolls her eyes but smiles, and before she can say anything else, I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She melts into the hug, her arms slipping around my waist, her face buried in my chest.

I kiss the top of her head, murmuring against her hair, "Good girl."

She exhales, relaxing further, and I can't help but hold her just a little longer. Then, an idea strikes me.

I pull back just enough to look at her, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips. "Since you're in such an agreeable mood, how about you accompany me somewhere cool?"

Mariella raises an eyebrow, instantly intrigued. "How cool are we talking?"

I smirk wider. "Cool and gory."

Her entire face lights up, her smile stretching wide. In a flash, she jumps up slightly, gripping my shoulders. "Duh! You had me at gory."

I chuckle, shaking my head as I watch her bounce on her heels, her excitement contagious. "Of course, I did," I murmur, amused.

She claps her hands together. "Alright, where are we going, lover boy?"

I run my tongue over my teeth, smirking as I turn toward the door. "You'll see soon enough, darling."

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Truth is unfolding...

Do you think their plan is going to work?

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡