★★Mariella's POV★★



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I push myself harder, my feet pounding against the pavement as I run around the property, trying to outrun my thoughts. My chest rises and falls with each breath, but it's not exhaustion that's weighing me down—it's everything that's happened in the last few days. The truth I've buried so deep that even I'm afraid to dig it up. Leon's words haunt me, taunting me about coming clean.

Like it's that easy.

I slow down near the pond, my legs burning from the sprint, and drop onto the bench. The sight of the ducks gliding across the water should be peaceful, but my mind is a storm. I lean back, exhaling, trying to find some kind of calm—until my phone buzzes.

Unknown number. Of course.

I smirk, already knowing who it is.

"Hi, stranger," I say, breathless but smiling.

"Hey, babygirl," Leon's smooth voice greets me, sending a shiver down my spine.

God, I'm going insane for this man. The way he says that nickname makes me want to drown in him. And he knows it.

Then his voice turns serious. "We're going out tonight."

I blink. "Wow, taking me on a date so soon? Didn't think you'd crack this fast, Laurent."

He scoffs, a quiet chuckle following. "Do you want it to be a date? I wouldn't exactly call going on a mission together a romantic evening, Mari."

My smirk fades slightly. "Mission? Me and you?"

He hums in confirmation.

I cross my legs, feigning irritation. "So you're not taking me on a date?"

"Not yet, baby. But very soon," he says, voice low and promising.

I groan dramatically. "Ugh, useless."

There's a beat of silence, then—

"If you want me to eat your tight pussy again, just say that."

I choke. My head whips around as if someone might be standing behind me. "Leon!"

He chuckles darkly. "Yes, darling?"

I can hear the smirk in his voice, the satisfaction of catching me off guard. My cheeks burn, and I scramble for a subject change. "Uh... w-what's the mission?"

Leon lets out a knowing laugh before answering. "Elena Varakis."

Right. Her.

My lips press into a thin line. "Great," I say, my tone dry.

"Yes, Mari. Her." He's amused, as if my annoyance is adorable to him. "We received intel that she'll be at a charity event tonight."

Charity. Perfect. A bunch of fake smiles, overpriced wine, and people pretending to care about things they'd never actually lift a finger for.

"Super," I mutter sarcastically.

"I'll pick you up, and we'll meet the rest at the event," he continues.

I raise an eyebrow. "The rest?"

Suddenly, another voice yells through the phone.

"ME AND DAMIEN!" Antonio's voice booms from the background.

I can't help but laugh. "Blondie, is that you?"

"Give me the phone, Leon," Antonio grumbles, and the rustling tells me he's actually fighting Leon for it. When he finally wins, his voice comes in clearer. "Me and Damien will be inside for backup, and we'll have men positioned outside. Simple enough."

"Got it," I say with a nod.

Antonio hesitates before adding, "Yeah, so wear something nice. Classy."

I smirk. "You got it, dad."

Antonio groans. "For fuck's sake."

Before he can argue, Leon takes the phone back, his voice smooth as ever. "Just wear something that fits the event."

I grin, tilting my head. "Yes, sir. Any recommendations?"

He exhales slowly, as if considering it. "I'd say nothing, but there'll be people there, and I'm the only one allowed to see you like that. So... maybe something red. Beautiful."

The air leaves my lungs.

Red. Beautiful.

Him.

My thighs press together instinctively, heat creeping up my neck. This man has me wrapped around his finger and he knows it.

"I—" I start, but my voice betrays me.

He hums knowingly. "Are you getting wet for me, baby?"

My breath catches.

I snap my mouth shut.

Lying would be pointless.

"Never," I shoot back, taunting him.

There's a pause before his voice drops into something dark and possessive.

"Someone's lying," he murmurs. "But don't worry, darling. We'll see tonight."

I hate how much that affects me.

"Keep dreaming, Laurent," I retort before hanging up, cutting him off before he can say another word.

I exhale sharply, setting my phone down, my heart hammering against my ribs.

How the fuck does he even know? Did this man develop some kind of seventh sense for when I'm turned on?

I run a hand through my hair, muttering under my breath.

I'm in so much trouble.

I was still trying to catch my breath from the conversation with Leon when a voice came out of nowhere.

"Mariella."

I jumped, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest.

"Jesus, Gio!" I clutched my imaginary pearls, narrowing my eyes at him. "Make yourself known before you appear out of thin air like that."

He smirked, clearly amused. "Your papa is calling for you in his office."

I groaned, rolling my eyes dramatically. "Can't you just tell him I'm busy? Maybe say I'm taking a swim with the ducks?" I threw a lazy hand toward the water, where the ducks were still peacefully floating, oblivious to my impending doom.

Gio followed my gaze, his smirk widening. "Mariella," he warned, his voice laced with amusement.

"Fine," I huffed, brushing past him.

As we reached the heavy wooden door to my father's office, Gio stopped outside, his usual silent guardian stance in place. I exhaled sharply before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

"Papà!" I greeted, plastering on a bright, innocent smile.

He was leaning back in his chair, watching me with sharp, assessing eyes. The glass of bourbon in his hand reflected the dim light from his desk lamp. He looked like a man who already knew the answers before asking the questions.

Shit.

I sauntered forward, lacing my fingers behind my back, and plopped down into the chair across from him with zero grace.

"You look adorable in your suit, Papa. Is that—" I squinted at him dramatically. "A new suit? Wow. Looking snazzy as always."

He didn't even crack a smile. Instead, he took a slow sip of his bourbon before setting it down.

"Bellezza, (beauty)" he warned.

I chuckled nervously, trying to keep the act up, but my father wasn't buying it.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, his piercing gaze never leaving mine. "Are you ready to talk?"

I hesitated, gripping one of the pens on his desk and twirling it between my fingers. The weight of his question pressed against my chest. He was talking about France. The casino bombing. The fact that I had very strategically been dodging him since I returned.

I sighed. There was no running from this conversation.

"Promise me something first," I said, my tone turning serious.

His expression shifted—curiosity, then concern. "I can't promise something if I don't know what it is, Mariella."

I swallowed, my voice softer this time. "Promise me you'll always love me and never be mad at me."

His brows furrowed, but then his face softened. "Bellezza, I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that."

My heart clenched at his words. For a brief moment, I considered telling him everything—the truth about France, the truth about my real plans. But the way he was looking at me... worried, afraid of what I might say next... I couldn't do it.

So I gave him something else instead.

"Papa..." I exhaled slowly. "I'm not marrying Niko Zervos."

Silence.

"I have never loved him, and I never will," I continued, my voice steady now. "Please don't make me marry him."

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he let out a deep sigh and reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.

"Mariella," he murmured. "I would never force you into a marriage you don't want. That is not the life I want for you." His voice softened, turning almost poetic. "Love is not meant to be a cage. If Niko is not the one, then love itself will find you. And when it does, it will be undeniable. Someone, somewhere, will see you as I do—brilliant, untamed, impossible to forget."

I nearly cried right then and there.

Instead, I stood, moved to his side of the desk, and threw my arms around him. He held me tightly, his embrace warm, safe—a stark contrast to the cold world we lived in.

But just as I thought I had escaped the hard questions, his voice rumbled against me.

"Now spill," he said casually, though his grip on me tightened slightly. "Why was my daughter in France? And more importantly—why was she almost killed?"

Damn. Almost thought I had him.

I busied myself by playing with the wedding ring he still wore, the one he had never taken off since my mother died. He still loved her.

Always would.

"I was at the wrong place at the wrong time," I lied smoothly. "Some cartel group decided to blow up the building." I paused before adding, "Thankfully, Leon was there."

My father's brows furrowed. "Cartel?"

I nodded quickly. "Leon handled it. Made sure they'd never walk the earth again."

He studied me carefully, suspicion flickering in his dark eyes. "Why was Leon there?"

I shrugged, waving my hand dismissively. "It was an event for important people. You know, like casinos, drinking, and stuff."

He shook his head, exhaling. "That Leon boy... he's very smart."

I stilled.

"Yes..." I agreed slowly. "I guess you could say he's smart."

Then my father gave me a look.

A very specific look.

"Papa! No," I groaned, immediately knowing where his thoughts were going. I placed my hands on my hips, glaring at him.

"Mariella," he said innocently. "I didn't even say anything."

"You didn't have to. You just gave me the look." I crossed my arms. "The 'Mariella, he's a perfect boy to marry' look."

His lips twitched, and I bolted.

"Addio, Papà! (Goodbye)" I called, swinging the door open before he could say another word.

As I stepped out, Gio was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

He avoided eye contact. "Nope, Miss."

Liar.

I stepped closer, tilting my head. He finally looked at me.

"Good boy," I teased before brushing past him.

I made my way to my room, my heart still racing from everything that had just happened. As I walked in, I found Mellow, my cat, curled up on my bed, completely unbothered by my emotional turmoil.

I sighed, flopping onto the bed beside him.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

****

As I swiped on my dark red lipstick, my phone buzzed against the vanity. I hit the speaker, balancing it between my cheek and shoulder as I perfected the edges in the mirror. Luna's voice came through, dripping with curiosity.

"What do you mean 'you and Leon had an intimate moment?'" she asked, confused.

I stayed silent, dabbing my lips together, hoping she'd drop it. But Luna wasn't stupid. I could hear the gears turning in her head, piecing it all together like a detective in a crime drama.

Then—

"Wait—did you suck him?" Her voice shot up an octave.

My grip tightened around the lipstick tube. "No..." I muttered.

Fast as hell, she fired back. "He sucked you?"

Heat rushed up my neck.

Before I could respond, she screamed.

"NO. FUCKING. WAY."

I giggled despite myself, trying to focus on fixing my hair.

"Leon? The big, terrifying guy who looks like he kills people for fun?" she asked, still in disbelief.

"The one and only," I replied smoothly, twisting a loose strand of hair between my fingers.

Luna was losing it. "Was he good?"

I smirked at my reflection. "How does one express the feeling of someone who has never experienced heaven before suddenly having it served to them on a silver platter?"

She cackled. "Holy shit. He ruined you, didn't you?"

I slipped on my red stilettos, still smirking.

"So now what?" she asked after catching her breath.

I hesitated. That was the question, wasn't it? My fingers hovered over my perfume bottle as I thought about it.

"I... I don't know. We haven't gone that far," I admitted.

Luna, being Luna, immediately pounced. "Wait—have you guys—"

"No," I cut in way too fast.

Her laughter rang through the phone.

"What's funny?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at my reflection.

"Nothing. Just that you two are taking turns going down on each other, but you haven't discussed what you are."

I rolled my eyes. "I haven't gone down on him, dumbass. I haven't even seen his dick."

She gasped, utterly scandalized. "Mariella! You mean to tell me you've been served on a silver platter, but you haven't even peeked under the chef's apron?"

I groaned. "Luna, I swear to God—"

"Well, maybe tonight is the night," she teased.

I made a disgusted face at my phone. "You're gross."

She laughed. "Oh, come on. Don't act like you haven't had a wet dream about him."

I froze.

She wasn't wrong.

Not that I'd ever admit it.

Luna gasped dramatically. "You didn't deny it!"

Shit.

I grabbed my purse. "Goodbye, Luna," I said quickly, hanging up before she could roast me any further.

I slipped on my rings, adjusting the weight of the metal on my fingers, and muttered, "Weirdos. All of them."

Stepping back, I took in my reflection.

A soft, blood-red dress hugged my curves, the open-back design exposing just enough to be dangerous. My hair was pinned in a loose bun, with strands falling around my face just right. The stilettos gave me extra height, elongating my legs. A little perfume—something dark, something unforgettable—and I was ready.

I exhaled sharply. "Alright, Mari."

Turning to my bed, I found Mellow curled up, lazily watching me with half-lidded eyes.

"Wish me luck, Mellow?" I asked.

She meowed approvingly.

I smiled, running a hand over her fur before grabbing my phone and purse.

Stepping out into the night, I felt the electric charge of anticipation settle over me.

As I approached the double doors, the low purr of an engine reached my ears, its headlights slicing through the thick darkness of the night. I stepped outside, the crisp night air kissing my skin, and there he was—leaning against his red sports car, looking like sin wrapped in a black suit.

Oh.

We're matching.

A cigarette dangled between his lips, smoke curling lazily around his face. The second I laid eyes on him, butterflies erupted in my stomach, fluttering lower than I'd like to admit.

Control yourself, Mariella.

I sauntered toward him, the click of my heels against the pavement slicing through the silence. He watched me, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, before casually extinguishing his cigarette against the rough bark of a tree. Instead of tossing it, he stuffed the butt into his pocket.

I smirked. He knew.

He saw the way I reacted to his smoking, saw the way my expression must have shifted—and now, he was deliberately quitting in front of me. That smug bastard.

Leon smirked right back, pushing off his car, his body moving with the effortless grace of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me.

His suit clung to him in all the right places, the bow tie somehow making him look both dangerous and refined. His usually slicked-back hair had a few rebellious strands falling forward onto his forehead.

Shit.

He was a god.

His eyes dragged over my dress, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every inch of me to memory. Then, with a smirk, he finally spoke.

"You listened. Good girl, baby."

His voice was like warm honey over gravel.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes even as my pulse betrayed me. "Please. It wasn't for you," I said, lifting my chin. "I just look good in red."

His smirk deepened as he stepped closer, closing the space between us. His fingers brushed under my chin, tilting my face up just enough for our eyes to lock.

"Really?" he drawled, amusement curling at the edges of his smirk. "Then why's your pulse racing, sweetheart? You can lie to yourself all you want, but your body?" He leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost over my skin. "It always tells me the truth."

I tilted my head, lips parting slightly as I whispered, "Maybe I just enjoy watching you think you have me figured out."

Leon exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head before dragging his thumb lightly over my lower lip. His voice dropped, thick with something dangerous.

"Careful, baby. Keep talking like that, and I just might test that theory."

Heat flushed down my spine, and for a split second, I swore the entire night shifted.

But then, he stepped back, unlocking the car door with a flick of his wrist.

"Get in, princess. We've got a mission to handle."

I exhaled sharply, gathering whatever composure I had left before slipping into the passenger seat.

But I knew, and he knew—

This mission wasn't the only thing about to get dangerous

As he slides into the driver's seat and shuts the door, a charged silence settles between us. The low purr of the engine is the only sound, but the air between us is thick—his cologne clings to the air, rich and intoxicating, sinking into my skin like a slow-burning drug. I inhale deeply, letting it settle in my chest, in my veins. It's unfair how good he smells, how effortlessly he consumes the space around him.

His voice breaks through the spell, low and smooth. "Glove box. Her file's inside."

I reach forward, flipping it open. A slim manila folder rests inside, practically humming with the weight of what it holds.

As I flip open the file, Elena Varakis' name stares back at me in bold ink. The details are brief, but enough to paint a picture—her family and Niko's were once allies, tangled in politics and money laundering. At some point, Niko betrayed them, using her family as pawns in a larger scheme. Now, she wants revenge.

The file doesn't say much about what she's capable of, only that she has insider knowledge of Niko's network—contacts, banking, and the Greek side of his operations. She could expose his financial weaknesses or lead us to someone who can help take him down.

I exhale sharply, tapping my fingers against the folder. "So, she's a walking time bomb."

Leon glances at me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gear shift. "Exactly. Question is—do we set it off?"

I glance at Leon, my lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Maybe," I muse, tapping my fingers against the file. "Only seems fair—since Niko tried to blow us up." My voice drips with playful venom.

Leon smirks, gripping the wheel as he speeds down the highway, the city lights flashing against his sharp features. The tension lingers between us, thick and unspoken, electrifying the air.

****

When we finally pull up to the venue, I take in the sight—a towering glass building, expensive cars rolling up, men in tailored suits, and women draped in designer gowns. The night hums with wealth and danger, the perfect mix for what we're about to do.

Leon shifts the car into park and steps out smoothly, adjusting his suit like he owns the world. Then, he looks at me through the windshield and smirks. That damn smirk.

I move to open my door, but his voice cuts through the air. "Don't touch the door."

Prick.

He makes his way around the car, slow and deliberate, his black dress shoes clicking against the pavement. Then, he swings open my door and leans down, holding out his hand like some dark prince.

"Sweetheart?" His voice is deep, teasing, dripping with arrogance.

I roll my eyes but take his hand, my fingers gliding against his. His grip tightens, his thumb brushing over my skin. It's such a small touch, but it shoots straight through me, lighting every nerve on fire.

His eyes never leave mine. The way he's looking at me—it's intense, like he's peeling away every layer, seeing something only he's allowed to touch.

"Stop looking at me like that," I murmur, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks.

His smirk deepens as he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking over my face like he's savoring something. "Like what, baby?" His voice is smooth, slow—like he's tasting every word before he says it. He pulls me just a little closer, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Can't help it when I've got a goddess on my arm. Makes it real hard to look anywhere else."

Oh, he knows exactly what he's doing.

I try to fight the flutter in my chest, but it's no use. He takes my hand, holding it possessively, like he's staking a silent claim, and leads me toward the entrance.

His expression shifts—the playful arrogance slipping into something darker, colder, calculated. The man on a mission.

I steal a glance at him, at his sharp jawline, the way his suit clings to his broad frame. He's too perfect. Too untouchable.

But I want him.

No—I need him.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the air hums with conversation, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the soft melody of a string quartet playing in the background. The massive banner hanging over the stage reads: "Paws & Protection: A Charity for Animals Affected by Domestic Violence." Servers glide between elegantly dressed guests, offering trays of bubbling champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres.

Aww doggies?

Leon keeps me tucked against his side, his voice low and smooth as he murmurs, "Eyes open. Find her."

Already scanning the room, I smirk and take a slow sip of my champagne. "Way ahead of you."

He watches me, one brow arched, his expression unreadable.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head as I take another sip. "I can multitask."

His smirk deepens, but he says nothing, just keeps his grip on my waist as we weave through the crowd. My eyes flit across the room, locking onto familiar faces—Antonio and Damien standing near the far corner. Antonio, ever the golden boy, offers me a small wave, while Damien looks thoroughly unimpressed, his sharp gaze practically drilling into me.

I grin wickedly and nudge Leon. "Look, Thing 1 and Thing 2."

Leon follows my gaze, his lips twitching with amusement. "You and these nicknames."

"Oh, come on. They're good, aren't they?" I tease.

His eyes flick back to mine, glinting with something unreadable. "Yes, darling. They're... brilliant." His voice is dripping with forced enthusiasm.

I narrow my eyes. "Oh, that sounded so convincing."

Then I smirk. "You know, I came up with a nickname for you too."

Leon's curiosity sparks, and he cups my cheek, his thumb stroking slow circles against my skin. "Let me guess... 'Sexy, Unresisting Man'?" His voice is deep, teasing, dripping with arrogance.

I scoff, laughing as I push his hand away. "Not even close. Grim Reaper."

His thumb pauses against my skin. "Grim Reaper?" His brows pull together, amused but slightly puzzled.

I nod, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Because you looked scary as hell and mean as fuck when you held me hostage."

Leon smirks, clearly entertained. But my playful demeanor shifts as I narrow my eyes at him, my voice turning flat.

"And by the way," I said, crossing my arms, "I haven't forgotten that you literally drowned me in ice-cold water."

His smirk widens. He steps closer, towering over me, his fingers curling around my jaw, firm but not rough. His eyes darken as he tilts my chin up, his gaze flickering between my lips and my eyes.

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it, princess?" His voice is a low, dangerous purr.

My breath hitches. His thumb runs over my bottom lip, slow, teasing. A heat rushes through me, pooling in places I shouldn't be thinking about right now.

I grip his wrist, my nails grazing his skin as I lean in, our lips brushing, breaths mingling. My voice drops to a sultry whisper. "Oh, sweetie... you'll see."

Leon's smirk deepens, but before I can make my move, he pulls back just enough, his teasing dominance infuriatingly intoxicating.

"Can't wait." His voice is silk and sin.

I bite the inside of my cheek, my face hot. Bastard.

Desperate for a distraction, I tip my champagne glass back and chug the rest, letting the fizz burn down my throat. But just as I lower it, my eyes catch a flash of black curls and a sleek blue dress.

Standing across the room, deep in conversation with a middle-aged man, is Elena flipping Varakis.

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Shes got eyes on the target!

New character unlock?

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡

*Mariella's Outfit*