★★Leon's POV★★



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After a couple of hours of drinking and talking, the night has settled into a quiet lull. The once lively room is now filled with slow, steady breathing and the occasional drunken mumble.

Antonio is sprawled out on one of the couches, completely wasted, his arm hanging off the side like a dead man. Mariella isn't any better. She's curled up on the opposite couch, her head resting against the armrest, her lips slightly parted as she sleeps peacefully.

Damien crosses his arms beside me, shaking his head with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "Why am I not even surprised? These two could turn a funeral into a drinking game," he mutters.

I smirk, barely paying attention to him.

My focus is on Mariella.

She sleeps too peacefully for someone in our world, like she doesn't have a single weight on her shoulders. Her red dress is ruffled from the night's events, her bun now fallen, letting soft waves of cinnamon-colored hair spill around her face. Even drunk, passed out, and completely unaware—she's fucking stunning.

I shouldn't be looking at her like this.

I tear my gaze away and nod toward Antonio. "Get Tony to his room before he starts snoring like a dying engine," I tell Damien.

Damien exhales sharply, still looking irritated but doesn't argue. "Brother," I say again, giving him a pointed look. He rolls his eyes before trudging over to Antonio, grabbing his arm, and throwing it over his shoulder. Antonio grumbles something incoherent as Damien drags him out the door, mumbling a string of curses under his breath.

Now it's just me and Mariella.

I step toward her, shaking my head with a smirk. "Alright, baby, let's get you to bed." My voice comes out lower than expected, almost too soft for my own liking—too careful, too unfamiliar.

I scoop her up, cradling her in my arms with ease. She shifts slightly, her head pressing against my chest as she murmurs something under her breath.

"I love you, Four."

I freeze mid-step.

What?

Four?

Who the fuck is Four?

A strange, unwelcome feeling twists in my gut. The words came so naturally from her lips, so soft, like a confession she's said a hundred times before. My jaw clenches. I shouldn't care. I really shouldn't fucking care.

But I do.

I push the thought aside as I make my way to one of the bedrooms, my grip on her tightening slightly. Once inside, I lay her down gently on the bed. She shifts again, rolling onto her side, the hem of her dress riding up her thigh.

Fuck.

I take a deep breath and turn to grab a black t-shirt from my dresser. It'll be big on her, but it'll do.

I kneel beside the bed and reach for the zipper of her dress. As I begin to tug it down, she stirs, groaning softly. "Fuck off," she mumbles in a sleepy, irritated voice.

I smirk. Even half-conscious, she's still got a bite.

The dress finally slips from her shoulders, revealing red lace underneath. My hands freeze. My jaw tightens. My cock twitches in my slacks at the sight of her.

Get a grip, Leon.

I grab the shirt and slip it over her head, guiding her arms through it before finally pulling it down over her body. Once she's settled, I push a strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. Her cheeks are flushed, lips slightly parted.

Too innocent. Too good for this world.

Something heavy settles in my chest, something unfamiliar and unwelcome.

No.

I don't do this. I don't feel this.

I take a step back, shoving my hands into my pockets. The room is too quiet, too still, and for the first time in a long time, I feel unsettled.

Whatever this is—whatever she's making me feel—it needs to stop.

I can't do love.

And Mariella De Angelis is the kind of woman that could make a man forget that.

I head to the bathroom, going through the motions of my nightly routine before stepping back into the dimly lit room. Mariella is already asleep, curled up on the bed, her breathing soft and steady.

I unbutton my dress shirt, letting it slip from my shoulders before pulling on a pair of sweats. The bed dips as I slide in beside her, the black silk comforter cool against my skin as I drape it over both of us. Without thinking, I reach for her, pulling her against my chest.

She fits so perfectly—so small, so soft—like she was meant to be here all along. Her head rests over my heart, and as she breathes, I feel each quiet inhale, every gentle exhale, syncing with my own. My arm wraps around her back, holding her close, like I'm afraid she'll disappear if I let go.

I stare down at her, my fingers tracing lazy patterns along her spine. She's so small against me, her body warm and soft, fitting into me like she was always meant to be here. Her breath is slow, steady, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself just exist in this moment. No wars. No blood. No betrayals. Just her.

Mariella.

The one person who makes this life feel a little less hollow. The one person who sees me—not the heir, not the killer, not the monster they all whisper about—but me. And somehow, she still stays. Still looks at me like I'm worth something more than the weight of my sins.

I press my lips against the top of her head, exhaling slowly. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve her. But she's here anyway, curled against me like I'm something safe, something good.

She stirs slightly, a sleepy mumble escaping her lips as she buries herself deeper into my chest. My arm tightens around her instinctively.

I thought I was meant to walk through this world alone. That love, kindness—hell, even peace—weren't things I was ever meant to have. But then she came crashing into my life, reckless and fearless, shoving her way past every wall I built.

And now?

Now, I can't imagine a world without her in it.

****

My body feels like it's being weighed down, a dull pressure pressing into my chest, followed by a sharp sting on my neck. Then a familiar voice—low, dangerous, and pissed—cuts through the haze of sleep.

"You have five seconds to explain why I'm in your bed and why I don't remember a damn thing."

I groan, barely cracking an eye open. "Shut up," I mumble, voice rough from sleep.

Too early for this shit.

A sharper pressure against my throat now—a blade.

My vision is still blurry, but the blinding sunlight doesn't help. Blinking a few times, my sight finally clears, and there she is. Mariella. Sitting on my stomach, pinning me down, her wild cinnamon hair a mess from sleep, and my oversized black t-shirt. And in her hand? A knife—glinting under the morning light, pressed right against my throat.

Oh, my little princess.

I smirk, arms lazily resting behind my head. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Leon," she warns, her voice laced with deadly patience.

"Princess," I reply, equally as annoyed but thoroughly entertained.

Her eyes flicker down. Big mistake. I see it—the way her gaze lingers on my tattooed bare chest, tracing the ridges of my abs before she realizes what she's doing. Her grip on the knife falters just slightly, a flicker of hesitation that I take full advantage of.

In a blink, I move.

Fast. I grab her wrist, twist it, and in a swift motion, I flip her onto the bed, pinning her beneath me. Now, the tables have turned. I press the knife to her throat, my body hovering over hers, the heat of her skin burning through the thin fabric of my shirt on her frame.

Mariella's blue eyes widen in shock before narrowing in pure annoyance.

"Didn't know you were a morning person, little princess," I murmur, my voice laced with amusement as I apply just a little more pressure with the knife—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her who's in control now.

She exhales sharply, her chest rising against mine. "Do you always pin women down before breakfast?" she snaps, glaring up at me.

I smirk, lowering my head slightly, my lips just ghosting the shell of her ear. "Only when they wake me up at knife-point," I whisper, my breath fanning against her skin.

She flinches—just barely. Her body betrays her, her breath hitching as I drag my nose down her neck, slow and deliberate. She smells like whiskey, vanilla, and something uniquely Mariella. My grip on the knife loosens just slightly, but my weight keeps her caged beneath me.

"Get off me," she demands, her voice less confident now, like she's trying to convince herself she's not affected.

I tilt my head, pretending to think about it. "Hmm. You did try to slit my throat first thing in the morning. Seems only fair I return the favor."

Mariella huffs, her impatience growing. "Just tell me already," she snaps. "Did we—" she swallows, her throat bobbing under the blade, her voice quieter now. "Did we sleep together?"

I pause. Then smirk.

"What do you think?" I taunt.

Her eyes darken, jaw tightening. "Leon."

I lean in again, letting the silence stretch between us, letting her second-guess herself, watching the irritation in her eyes mix with something else—something she doesn't want to admit.

Then, just to piss her off, I drop my mouth to the curve of her jaw, my lips barely brushing her skin. "If we did, you'd definitely remember it, baby," I murmur.

She shoves at my chest. Hard. I let her—for now.

"Ugh, you're insufferable," she grits out. "Just answer the damn question."

I finally pull back slightly, giving her the answer she so desperately wants but won't admit she's relieved to hear.

"No, Mariella," I say, my tone softer, more serious now. "I'm not the kind of man who'd take advantage of a woman while she's unconscious."

She blinks up at me, caught off guard by my sudden honesty.

I smirk again, because I can't help myself. "Besides, when I do fuck you, princess, I want you to be fully aware of every second of it."

Her face turns scarlet.

Mariella goes quiet beneath me, her expression shifting as something else clouds her thoughts. Her brows knit together slightly, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head.

Then, her gaze drops.

For the first time since waking up, she notices the oversized black t-shirt draping loosely over her body—my shirt. Her hands ghost over the fabric, fingers gripping the hem like she's only now realizing that the tight red dress she was wearing last night is nowhere to be seen.

Her lips part slightly, her mind already jumping to conclusions.

I smirk, leaning in just a little, watching her squirm under my gaze. "Something wrong, princess?" I ask, voice dripping with amusement.

Her head snaps up, blue eyes narrowed. "Why the hell am I wearing your shirt?" she demands, her voice sharper now, edged with suspicion.

I tilt my head, letting the moment stretch before answering. "Would you have preferred to sleep in that suffocating little red dress all night?" I ask lazily. "Because if so, I could've just left you in it."

She hesitates, gripping the fabric tighter. Her mind is running a marathon, trying to figure out how far things actually went last night.

I see it the second she starts to panic.

"Relax," I murmur, amusement still lacing my voice. "I didn't do anything to you, Mariella. You got wasted, passed out, and I figured you'd be more comfortable in something else."

Something else.

Her fingers tighten around the shirt again, her breath hitching just slightly. Her silence stretches, and I already know what she's thinking.

She doesn't have to ask.

I smirk, watching the growing red tint on her cheeks as I answer the unspoken question anyway.

"Yes," I say, my voice low, teasing. "I saw them."

Her head snaps up so fast it's almost funny. "Saw what?" she snaps, her voice just a little too high.

I give her a slow, lazy once-over, letting my gaze drop just slightly, just enough to remind her. "Your little red panties," I say, letting the words roll off my tongue like a damn confession. "They looked good on you, by the way."

Mariella makes a strangled sound, her face burning red, but she refuses to look away from me.

I chuckle, shifting my weight slightly to keep her caged beneath me, enjoying every second of her flustered silence. Then, just to make things worse for her, I drop my voice to a murmur, my lips hovering close to her ear.

"Did you wear them for me, princess?"

Her entire body tenses.

A beat of silence.

Then, finally, she finds her voice again. "Get off me, stronzo arrogante (you arrogant asshole)," she grits out, shoving at my chest—this time, with actual force.

I let her push me back slightly, but I don't move off her just yet. I just smirk, because I've already won this little game.

"Don't act so shy now," I taunt, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "It's adorable."

She glares daggers at me, but I see it—the way her breath is still uneven, the way her fingers are still gripping the hem of my shirt like she doesn't quite know what to do with herself.

And I like it.

A lot.

I finally push myself off her, giving her space as I lean back on my elbows. "You looked cute in my clothes too," I add, like it's just an afterthought. "Almost makes me wanna keep you in them."

Mariella doesn't answer.

She's still too busy trying to process the last five minutes.

And that? That makes it all the more fun for me.

As she stumbles towards the bathroom, I can sense the tension radiating from her body. The way she pushes her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit, only adds to the air of anticipation. Her stuttered words, "I-I need to use the bathroom," are laced with a vulnerability that I find intriguing. I watch her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, my eyes never leaving her as she makes her way to the bathroom.

The sound of the door slamming shut behind her is music to my ears, a testament to the tumultuous emotions brewing beneath her surface. I chuckle softly to myself, the sound barely audible, as I get up to check my emails. The silence between us is palpable, and I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, even through the closed door.

When she emerges from the bathroom, her voice is laced with determination. "I need pants," she says, her eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. I turn to face her, my eyes trailing down her bare thighs and legs, and I can feel the spark of attraction igniting within me.

"I'd prefer you without pants," I say, my voice low and husky, as I set my phone down.

Her eyes widen in confusion, and she looks at her legs as if seeking validation. But I can see the hint of a blush rising to her cheeks, and I know I've struck a chord. "Well, I didn't ask what you'd prefer," she says, her voice firm, but her eyes betraying a flicker of uncertainty. "I need to head home; I have an important meeting to attend to today."

I take a step closer to her, my movements deliberate and slow. "Did you just talk back to me?" I ask, my voice dripping with a mixture of curiosity and warning.

Her eyes flash with a spark of courage, and she takes a step back, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if I am?"

The air between us is charged with tension, and I can feel the electricity crackling like a live wire. I tower over her, my presence looming large, and I can see the fear lurking in her eyes. But she refuses to back down, her chin jutting out in defiance.

"You're all bark but no bite, stronzo (asshole)," she says, her voice laced with a bravado that I find both irritating and intriguing.

That's when I lose my patience. I grip her by her hair, yanking her head back, and she yelps in pain.

"Let's just test out that theory, yeah?" I say, my voice low and menacing. I drag her to the bed, her feet scrambling to keep up as I hold her by her hair. She yells out in Italian, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a curse. "Toglimi quelle fottute mani sporche di dosso, stronzo! (Get your fucking dirty hands off me, asshole!)"

I smirk at her reaction, the fire in her eyes only fueling my own desire. As we reach the edge of the bed, I kick the back of her knee, sending her tumbling to the ground. She groans in pain, her body folding onto itself as she tries to catch her breath. I sit down on the edge of the bed, my hand still wrapped around her hair, as I gaze down at her.

My eyes lock onto hers, and I can see the fear and the defiance warring within her. I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"Je vais baiser ta jolie petite bouche si violemment que tu ne pourras pas parler pendant des semaines, (I'm gonna fuck your pretty little mouth so hard you won't be able to talk for weeks)" I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth like a promise. I yank her hair, pulling her head back, and she glares up at me, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and fear.

In this moment, I am the master of her universe, and she is at my mercy. The power dynamic between us is palpable, and I can feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I am the one holding the reins, and she is the one trembling beneath my touch. But as I gaze into her eyes, I can see the spark of defiance still burning within her, and I know that this is far from over.

The game has just begun, and I am ready to play.

As I slowly take off my sweatpants and underwear, Mariella's eyes widen in shock, her gaze fixed on my cock as it springs to life in front of her. I can see the mixture of fear and fascination in her eyes, and I know I have her right where I want her.

"Since you've been running that mouth all morning, how about we put it to use, huh?"I say, my voice low and husky, as I hold my cock in my hands, the head throbbing with anticipation.

Mariella's response is immediate, her voice laced with defiance. "Fuck you," she spits, but I just smile, my eyes locked on hers. I take my cock in my hand and slap it gently against her face, the soft sound making her jump. She looks up at me, shocked and pissed, but I just smile down at her, my eyes glinting with amusement.

"Choose your words carefully, Mariella," I say, my tone cold and unyielding as I stare her down. My gaze never wavers, and then, in a lower, more dangerous growl, I add, "Suck."

The word lingers between us, thick with the weight of what's to come. Mariella's eyes flash with a fierce mix of fear and defiance, as if she's calculating whether to obey or fight.

She stares at my cock, her eyes fixed on the tip, and I can see her gulp, her lips parting slightly as she licks them. She's testing my patience, pushing me to see how far I'll go, but I'm not having it. I yank her head tighter, her hair tangled in my fingers, and she groans, her eyes flashing with pain.

"Don't make me repeat myself," I say, my voice low and menacing, as I pull her head closer to my cock. Her warm breath washes over me, and I can feel my control slipping, the urge to just fuck her right there, to bury myself in her mouth and claim her, almost overwhelming.

But I hold back, my eyes locked on hers, as she draws out her tongue and licks the tip of my cock, the touch sending shivers down my spine. The sensation is exquisite, and I can feel my balls tightening, my cock throbbing with anticipation.

I pull her head closer, my cock pressing against her lips, and she opens her mouth slightly, her tongue darting out to lick the head. I'm fighting the urge to thrust, to bury myself in her mouth, but I hold back, my eyes locked on hers, as she slowly, tentatively, begins to suck.

The sensation is incredible, her warm mouth enveloping me, her tongue wrapping around my cock, and I can feel myself getting lost in the pleasure. But I'm not going to let her off that easy. I'm going to make her work for it, make her take me all the way, and I can feel my patience wearing thin.

I yank her head back, my cock popping out of her mouth, and she looks up at me, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. "More," I say, my voice low and husky, as I pull her head back to my cock. "Suck me like you mean it, Mariella. Show me what you're working with." And with that, I push her head back down, my cock disappearing into her mouth, and I can feel the rush of pleasure, the thrill of control, as I let out a slow, husky breath.

I'll never forget the way she looked at me as she sucked my cock, her eyes locked on mine with a fierce intensity that made my blood boil. She applied pressure from her lips, her mouth wrapping around me like a vice, and her tongue swirled around my shaft, sending shivers down my spine.

As she worked me over, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at her skill. She was a natural, her mouth moving in perfect sync with my rhythm, and I felt myself getting lost in the sensation.

"Fuck, baby, it can barely fit," I groaned, my cock straining against her lips, and she looked up at me with a hint of a smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around hers, guiding her up and down my shaft, feeling the pressure building in my balls. The tip of my cock touched the back of her throat, and tears started to stream down her cheeks, but she didn't flinch, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're my little slut," I whispered, my voice husky with desire, and she moaned, the sound muffled by my cock. I could feel her tongue working me over, her lips tightening around me, and I knew I was close.

As I built towards climax, I felt my control slipping, my hips thrusting forward, and I heard myself saying, "Good girl, good girl," my voice barely above a whisper.

And then, just as I was about to come, I said, "Know you'll swallow every single drop of my come" my voice low and menacing, and she moaned again, her eyes flashing with excitement.

I felt myself groaning, my cock pulsing with anticipation, and she responded by applying even more pressure with her lips, her tongue swirling around me in a frenzy. "Sallow," I growled, my voice barely intelligible, and my cum poured into her mouth, a hot, sticky flood that I could feel her swallowing, her throat working to take it all in.

As I slipped my cock out of her mouth, I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me, and I reached out to wipe her lips, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingers. I wiped away her tears, feeling a pang of guilt, but she just looked up at me, her eyes shut, a look of pleasure on her face.

And then, as I pulled up my pants, I said, "I'm proud of you, darling," my voice low and husky, and I felt a sense of possessiveness wash over me. She was mine, my little slut, and I knew that I would do anything to keep her.

I walk over to the dresser as she remains kneeling, her posture tense. I pull out a pair of shorts, tossing them casually onto the bed. As I make my way toward the bathroom, I glance over my shoulder. Just as I'm about to close the door, I catch her eye. She looks at me, defiance in her gaze, and I give her a sly wink before shutting the door behind me.

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Damn he just left her like that...

welp.

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡