★★Leon's POV★★



✧✧✧✧✧✧

The quiet of the headquarters hits me the second we step through the door. The usual buzz of voices is absent, replaced by an eerie stillness. Mariella lets out an exaggerated groan, pulling off her heels and wincing as she massages her feet.

"Ugh, finally," she mutters, her relief palpable.

She scans the room, looking for movement, and her voice comes out sharp as she asks, "Where are Thing 1 and Thing 2?"

I don't even need to look around—my phone's already in my hand, the CCTV feed lighting up. I check, then slide the phone back into my bag with a grunt.

"They're in the basement. Boxing," I say, stepping toward the hallway.

Mariella follows right behind, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "Great. Nothing like some friendly violence to spice up the day."

We walk down the stairs, the sound of punches landing and low groans filling the space. The moment we hit the bottom step, the scene before us is chaotic in that perfectly familiar way: Damine is holding up the pads, his posture casual but the intensity in his eyes undeniable, while Antonino is unloading on the pads, his breath ragged and sweat dripping down his face.

Mariella's voice cuts through the tension like a breeze. "Hi!" she chirps, cheerfully interrupting the rhythm of their training.

Damine and Antonino stop mid-motion, both of them turning their gaze toward us, their expressions shifting to surprise as they register Mariella's presence. Antonino's chest rises and falls with deep, labored breaths, sweat glistening on his skin, while Damine wipes his forehead, glancing at her with something like mild disbelief.

Antonino, ever the instigator, smirks and tosses his gloves to the side. "What's up, love birds?" His voice is teasing, but there's something deeper in the way he looks at us—something that feels like he's enjoying the disruption.

I shoot him a glance, unamused. "Did the shipment arrive?" I ask, ignoring his comment.

Damine, ever efficient, doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah. It's in the warehouse," he replies, his tone low and controlled.

Mariella looks at me, her brow furrowing. "Shipment?" she asks, confused.

I reach over and pat her head, a small grin tugging at my lips. "Yes, shipment. Ammunition, Mari." I say, guiding her through the moment.

She blinks, then her expression shifts into understanding. "Oh," she mutters, her eyes widening slightly, and she nods. I watch as she begins to peel off her jacket, the air between us shifting just a little.

The second the jacket hits the floor, Damine and Antonino freeze. Their eyes widen, scanning her outfit with wide, obvious stares. It doesn't take long for her to realize what they're looking at. The awkward tension settles in the room, and I don't miss the flush creeping up her neck.

Without thinking, I step in front of her, my hand moving quickly to shield her from their view. "Tournez-vous, connards (Turn around, assholes)," I snap, my voice dripping with irritation.

Damine and Antonino exchange startled glances, then turn away immediately, their backs facing us. I glance at Mariella, catching her apologetic smile, her lips barely curving upward as she mutters quietly, "Sorry, I forgot."

My expression softens, and I lean in, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Don't apologize," I murmur in her ear, my voice low and soothing. "Remember, baby... that's only for me to see."

Mariella's blush deepens, and she smirks, but there's an unmistakable warmth in her eyes. I shrug off my jacket, draping it over her shoulders with a protective gesture. "There should be sweats in the bathroom," I say, motioning toward the direction of the bathroom. "Go grab something more comfortable."

She nods. "Okie dokie," she replies softly, before turning and walking towards the bathroom. I watch as the door clicks shut behind her, a brief silence lingering in the room.

I turn back to Antonino and Damine, both of them still facing the opposite wall, their posture stiff as they try to regain their composure. A sharp exhale leaves my lips as I run my hand through my hair, trying to calm the ridiculousness of the moment. "You're good,"

They both turn around slowly, but there's still that shocked look on their faces. Damine is the first to break the silence, shaking his head and muttering, "Damn, brother."

Antonino gives me a thumbs-up, his grin now stretched across his face. "I gotta give it to you, man," he says, clearly impressed. "You've got some serious game."

I take a step forward, feigning annoyance, but the edge of my smile betrays the sarcasm. "You two are unbelievable," I mutter, narrowing my eyes.

Before I can even make a move, they both step back, hands raised in mock surrender. "Woah, woah," Damine laughs, shaking his head. "We didn't mean any disrespect."

Antonino chuckles, backing up just a little more. "Yeah, yeah. Just... didn't expect that, that's all."

I scowl playfully, about to charge at them for their obnoxious teasing, but they both burst out laughing, clearly not taking me seriously. Idiots. But it's the kind of idiocy I've come to expect from them.

I stand there for a moment, a grin creeping up as I shake my head. "Des imbéciles (Imbeciles)."

Just as the tension in the room starts to die down, I hear the faint sound of the bathroom door closing, and I can't help but chuckle. Yeah, things might be chaotic, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I lean against the ropes of the boxing ring, rolling my shoulders as I glance at Damine and Antonino. "How did the meeting go?" I ask, my voice even. Since I decided to stick with Mariella today—there was no way in hell I was letting her walk around barefoot in public—I sent these two to handle the ammunition shipment meeting in Serbia.

Damine stretches his arms, cracking his knuckles before he says, "Went smoothly. Nothing major, but the Serbs were up our asses the whole time, trying to push their weight around. Annoying, but we handled it." His tone is serious, with a hint of irritation.

Antonino nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but they did set us up with a solid load of ammunition for the future. Also, their boss wants a proper sit-down with you next time—since, you know, you ditched." He smirks, clearly enjoying the chance to rub it in.

I nod, exhaling slowly. "Good. Thanks."

Damine eyes me, then tilts his head. "And what's up with you?" His voice is filled with curiosity, and I know exactly where this is going.

Antonino leans against the boxing ring, his grin wide. "Yeah, we saw the whole argument with the lovely princess." His voice is dripping with amusement.

Damine chuckles, nudging Antonino. "Yeah, and this dumbass bet 7 grand that she would stab you in the arm."

I blink, then let out a disbelieving laugh. "You bet on our fight?" I ask, half amused, half confused.

Antonino groans, rubbing his temples. "Mhm. And now I owe 7 grand to this asshole right here." He jabs his thumb toward Damine, who looks smug as hell.

I shake my head, chuckling. God, they're annoying, but what would I do without them?

Rolling up my sleeves, my tattoos spill across my forearms, the ink stretching as I flex my hands. "Went splendidly," I say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

They both laugh, knowing full well Mariella's attitude and sharp mouth are enough to make any man consider early retirement.

Before we can keep going, the bathroom door opens, and the conversation stops dead.

Mariella steps out in sweatpants and a sports bra, her hair tied up, looking effortlessly stunning. She flashes us a confident smile, stretching her arms over her head. "Alright," she says, cracking her neck. "Who am I versing?"

We all stare at her, a mix of confusion and intrigue written across our faces.

Antonino is the first to snap out of it, letting out a low chuckle. "Damn, Sleeping Beauty. You seriously wanna step in the ring with us?" His voice drips with amusement, but there's a flicker of hesitation in his eyes—like he's not sure if he should be laughing or actually concerned.

Mariella cocks her hip, arching a brow with a smirk. "What's the matter? Afraid of getting your ass handed to you by a girl?"

My smirk deepens as I watch her, completely captivated. She's perfect.

A storm in human form.

Antonino narrows his eyes at Mariella before shifting his gaze to me. "What do you think, Leon?" His tone is amused, but there's a hint of doubt—like he's not entirely convinced this is a good idea.

I don't answer right away, too busy admiring the way Mariella looks right now—flushed from exertion, her confidence practically dripping from every move. She catches me staring and blushes slightly, though she tries to hide it behind a smirk.

"I think my little princess can handle herself just fine," I say, my voice steady, laced with something possessive.

She turns back to Antonino, flashing him a smug grin. "You heard him. Just me and you, blondie." She saunters toward the ring, effortlessly slipping under the ropes. As she leans down to enter, her back arches in a way that sends a sharp jolt of heat through my body. My jaw tightens, my muscles going rigid as I suppress a groan.

Fuck. Chill, Leon.

But it's damn near impossible—everything she does gets to me.

Damnine chuckles, clapping Antonino on the back as he steps away. "Now this I gotta see," he says, eyes gleaming with interest.

I move closer to the ring, watching as Mariella picks up a pair of boxing gloves. She slides them on, flexing her fingers before rolling her shoulders. Antonino grabs his own, sizing her up with a smirk.

"So, we going until someone taps?" he asks.

Mariella nods, her expression unreadable. "Deal. But don't expect me to go easy on you, blondie." She lifts her hands, fists up, settling into a stance that's firm, calculated—dangerous.

Antonino mirrors her, shifting his weight slightly as his smirk sharpens. "Trust me, princess. I wasn't planning on it."

The air in the room thickens, charged with anticipation. Damnine glances between them, then raises a hand.

"Alright—go."

The second the word leaves his mouth, Mariella moves.

The moment Damnine signals the start, Mariella launches forward like a bullet, her movements sharp and fluid. Antonino barely has time to react before she closes the distance, throwing a lightning-fast jab straight toward his jaw. He manages to dodge, but just barely—his smirk falters for half a second as he realizes she's not playing around.

"Damn, Sleeping Beauty's got hands," he mutters, circling her with a newfound caution.

Mariella doesn't respond—she's already calculating her next move. She keeps her stance low, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, her sharp eyes tracking Antonino's every shift.

Antonino feints left before throwing a right hook, powerful and fast. But Mariella ducks under it with a smooth roll, pivoting behind him. Before he can recover, she strikes—her fist slamming into his ribs, then another quick shot to his side. The impact makes him grunt, but he doesn't stumble. Instead, he retaliates, swinging his elbow backward, forcing her to dodge again.

"She's fast as hell," Damnine muses, watching with interest.

Antonino exhales sharply, his stance shifting. "Yeah, but let's see how she handles this."

This time, he doesn't wait for her to strike—he lunges, his sheer strength driving her back. Mariella blocks, but the force behind his punches is no joke. One hit to the ribs knocks her off balance for just a second—enough time for Antonino to take advantage. He throws a heavy cross, but instead of taking the hit, Mariella grabs his wrist mid-air, twisting her body and using his own momentum to flip him over her shoulder.

Antonino slams into the mat with a loud thud.

"Holy shit," Damnine mutters, eyes wide.

Antonino groans but recovers fast, rolling onto his feet with a grin. "Alright, alright. That was nice."

Mariella tilts her head, a teasing smirk on her lips. "Want me to slow down for you, big guy?"

"Cute," he mutters before lunging again.

This time, he's ready. He fakes high, then goes low, sweeping at her legs. Mariella jumps back, barely dodging in time, but it throws off her rhythm for just a moment—long enough for Antonino to land a solid punch to her side. She exhales sharply, wincing slightly, but instead of stepping back, she uses the momentum, twisting her body into a spinning back kick.

Her heel collides with Antonino's shoulder with enough force to make him stagger.

"Shit, alright," Antonino grunts, rolling his shoulder. "You wanna play rough?"

He rushes forward again, aiming to grapple, but Mariella knows she can't match his strength in a head-on fight. Instead, she ducks low, slipping under his arms at the last second and jumping up behind him. Before he can react, she locks her arms around his neck and swings her legs around his torso, using her full body weight to drag him down.

Antonino stumbles, gripping at her arms, but she's already tightening her hold—a perfectly executed triangle choke with her legs.

He grits his teeth, muscles straining as he tries to break free, but Mariella locks it in tighter, cutting off his air supply. His hands claw at her grip, his body thrashing, but her technique is flawless.

His movements slow. His breath comes out ragged. And then—after a long moment—he taps her arm.

Damnine lets out a low whistle. "No fucking way."

Mariella smirks, releasing him and rolling off smoothly. She lands on her feet, brushing off her sweatpants like she didn't just choke out a man twice her size.

Antonino stays on the mat for a second, breathing heavily. Then, he tilts his head up at her and groans. "I'm never gonna live this down, am I?"

Mariella grins, leaning down slightly. "Nope."

I lean against the ropes, watching her, my chest tightening with a mix of pride and something far more dangerous.

Fuck, she's perfect.

Damnine laughs, shaking his head. "I swear, that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

I shoot him a glare.

"Relax, lover boy," he smirks. "She's all yours."

As soon as I step into the ring, Mariella's breath hitches, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She tries to play it off with that cocky little smirk of hers, but I see right through her. Without a word, I grab her—firm, possessive.

A small gasp escapes her lips as I lift her up effortlessly, her legs instinctively locking around my torso. Her hands press against my shoulders for balance, but I can feel the way her fingers tremble slightly. My hands are firm under her ass, keeping her against me as she tilts her head down, meeting my eyes.

Damn, she's a masterpiece.

"Wow, baby," I murmur, my voice husky from the sight of her like this—flushed, breathless, and in my arms where she belongs.

Mariella giggles, tilting her head back slightly, her confidence flickering in those mischievous eyes. "I know," she purrs, "I'm the hottest, coolest, sexiest woman to ever walk this earth."

I smirk, my gaze dropping to her lips. "Yes, baby. You very much are."

She hums in approval, biting her lip, then suddenly challenges, "I bet I can beat you."

Behind us, Damnine and Antonino burst out laughing.

"You really think you can beat Leon?" Damnine scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

Mariella glances at him before turning back to me, her fingers threading through my hair, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Yep," she says, popping the 'p' just to tease me.

Antonino, still catching his breath from their match, wipes sweat off his forehead and scoffs. "Trust me, that fucker could take down thirty men in under ten minutes."

"Literally," Damnine confirms.

Mariella's eyes flick back to mine, curiosity dancing behind them. "That true, Reaper?" she taunts, her voice like silk, wrapping around me in a way that makes my grip on her tighten.

I let my fingers trace over the curve of her ass as I hold her up, smirking down at her. "I mean... not to brag, but yeah."

She hums, as if considering it, but the way her eyes drop to my lips—she's already lost.

I shift her slightly, pushing her closer against my groin, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.

Her breath stutters.

Her eyes go wide.

Her lips part as she struggles to form words. "I-I um... going to—"

I smirk, leaning in slightly, my voice dropping low. Dark. Dangerous. "What's wrong, baby? Cat got your tongue?"

Her throat bobs as she swallows, her gaze flickering between my eyes and my lips. She wants this. Wants me.

But she's stubborn. Always running.

She bites her lip—a bad fucking idea, because now all I can think about is biting it for her.

Then, barely above a whisper, she mutters, "Put me down. I can literally feel it poking me."

I chuckle darkly, dragging my fingers over her thigh before gripping it tight. "I can't help it, darling." I pause, my smirk widening. "Mind giving me a hand... or a head?"

Her whole body freezes.

Then—her face turns crimson.

Busted.

She squirms in my grip, practically scrambling to get out of my hold. I let her slip away, landing lightly on her feet as she refuses to look at me, clearing her throat.

I take a step toward her, amused as she takes a half step back, her face still burning. She's always running.

And I love it.

Because the chase? The chase is the best part.

Marco's voice slices through the charged air like a blade. "Patrón, we have a visitor. Giovanni and some Italian men. They're here for Mariella."

Gio? That fucking lapdog of hers? My jaw tightens at the mention of his name.

Mariella's head snaps toward Marco, brows furrowing. "Gio's here?" She swings her legs over the ropes, slipping gracefully out of the ring, and Marco nods.

"Oui."

She groans, rubbing her temples before shooting me an exasperated look. "My father." The irritation in her voice is sharp.

I exhale, already annoyed. "Gio always has a great time showing up everywhere." The bitterness in my tone is unmistakable.

She rolls her eyes. "I know. I called him this morning to pick me up."

I pause, narrowing my eyes. "Of course you did." Deadpan.

She crosses her arms. "Well, if you didn't pick a fight with me, I wouldn't have needed to."

Oh, so now it's my fault? I step closer, heat flaring in my chest. "You're blaming me?"

Mariella tilts her chin up, eyes meeting mine in defiance. "Leon, I'm not doing this right now."

I scoff. Typical. She's always running when I push back. She sighs, shaking her head before snatching up her phone and jacket. Turning to Antonino and Damine, she flashes a small smile.

"Bye, boys."

"Au revoir (goodbye)" They both nod, watching the tension unfold like an audience at a prize fight.

Then her gaze lands on me. Her expression softens, just a little. "Thanks for today. I really did enjoy it."

I exhale, running a hand through my hair before stepping beside her. "I'm walking you out."

She doesn't argue. Just nods.

As we step out into the cool night air, the weight of what's waiting outside settles between us. Gio. Her father. The tangled mess of whatever this thing is between us.

And I'll be damned if I let her walk away too easily.

As we step outside, the cold air does nothing to cool the heat still lingering between us. The black SUVs are parked in a tight formation, a handful of Gio's men standing by, their expressions unreadable but their presence undeniable. Gio stands at the front, arms crossed, radiating irritation. The second Mariella sees the whole damn setup, she groans.

"Mec, vraiment ?(Dude, really?)" she huffs, striding toward him with the kind of exasperation only he seems to bring out in her.

Gio barely acknowledges her complaint, his sharp gaze cutting straight to me like a blade. "Hai chiamato e tuo padre era preoccupato, (You called and your father was worried,)" he says, voice clipped.

Mariella sighs, rolling her eyes. "Fine. I'll go."

Gio doesn't look satisfied—far from it. His glare stays locked on me, his hands clenching like he's deciding whether or not to throw a punch. I tilt my head, smirking. "Hey, sunshine." My voice drips with mockery.

That sets him off. He takes a step forward, but Mariella's hand on his chest halts him. "Abbastanza. (Enough)" Her voice is firm, her stare even firmer.

Gio exhales sharply, scoffing before turning away, but the tension still simmers between us.

Mariella turns back to me, her voice quieter now, a hint of reluctance in her tone. "Papa's probably losing his mind by now. I should go before he sends half the damn country looking for me."

I don't answer right away. Instead, I step closer, cradling her face in my hands. My thumb traces slow, deliberate circles over her cheek, and for a fleeting second, she leans into the touch. It's subtle—but I catch it. My voice drops lower, watching the way her breath falters. "I get it. Go on, little princess. Don't keep the king waiting."

She exhales quietly, her lips parting, and for a moment, it's just us. But over her shoulder, I catch Gio's glare—his jaw tight, his fists curled.

I smirk. Let's piss him off some more.

Before Mariella can react, I pull her in, crashing my lips to hers in a kiss that's all possession, all fire. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, and she gasps, gripping my shirt like she needs to steady herself. It's desperate, reckless, intoxicating—like every second with her always is.

Then she breaks away, eyes wide, lips parted as she lifts a hand to her mouth. "I hate you," she mumbles, breathless.

I chuckle, watching her rush toward the SUV, deliberately avoiding Gio's stare. The bastard looks ready to murder me, his entire body rigid with anger.

I lift a hand, giving him a slow, taunting wave.

His nostrils flare, but he doesn't take the bait. With a sharp huff, he turns on his heel, getting into the car with his men. Moments later, the SUVs pull away, disappearing down the road.

Leaving me standing there.

Still tasting her on my lips.

Still aching for more.

✧✧✧✧✧✧

HELLO GUYS!

how are we feeling with the story so far?

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡