Another dinner. Another night of pretending to be something I wasn’t.
The grand dining hall was packed with the usual suspects: the Contis, the D’Angelos, the Luccis, the Marions, and the Carusos. All the families of the city, their faces too familiar, their smiles too polished. And all I could feel was the weight of my life suffocating me under the false pretense of a perfect union.
I hated these gatherings, especially with Elio glued to me. We had to sit there, side by side, pretending to everyone that we were madly in love, that this marriage — this arranged business deal — was a fairytale. It was like a sick joke. Everyone knew about his affair with Natalie, yet no one spoke of it.
No one dared.
I could feel Elio’s hand on my thigh, his touch possessive, as if he could claim me in front of all these people. His other hand rested on the back of my chair, his fingers brushing against my skin as if to mark me as his. I fought the urge to flinch.
I hated him. I hated every second of being here with him. But I couldn’t escape. Not yet. I wasn’t allowed to.
“Isn’t this wonderful, Isabella?” Elio’s voice broke through my thoughts, his breath warm against my ear. He always spoke to me like this, as if everything we were doing was perfectly fine. As if this wasn’t a prison.
I forced a smile. "Absolutely," I replied, but my tone was flat, drained.
We exchanged meaningless words with the guests around us. The Marions were discussing their latest business deal, and the Carusos were giving Elio compliments about his father’s wealth.
And then my phone buzzed.
A message from Leandro.
I glanced down discreetly, trying not to draw attention. His words sent a shiver through me:
"You look beautiful tonight. I want to break Elio’s arm so bad, you’re mine."
My breath caught. I tried to look around, searching the room for him, but all I saw were faces. Faces I hated. I tried to push the desire to leave this place out of my mind, but there was something about his message — the way he seemed to be watching me, even from afar. He was always in my thoughts. Always so close, even when he wasn’t here.
"Isabella, is everything alright?" Elio’s voice broke through my thoughts again, his fingers tightening on my thigh. I looked at him, forcing my expression to remain neutral.
"I need to go to the toilet," I said, my voice clipped.
Without waiting for a response, I stood up and walked away, my heels clicking on the marble floor. My heart was pounding. I needed a break from the suffocating atmosphere, from Elio’s touch, from everything. But as I walked down the hall toward the restroom, I felt a sudden, cold whisper brush against my ear.
I froze.
“Nice to see you again, Isabella.”
I turned in horror.
There, standing too close, dressed as a server with a fake mustache and a ridiculous uniform, was Leandro.
I was almost frozen in disbelief. He was insane. Out of his mind. He was in the middle of a mafia gathering where every family hated the Morettis. If anyone recognized him, if anyone found out who he was — they would kill him.
I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him toward the nearest restroom, pulling him inside, shutting the door behind us.
“Are you crazy?” I hissed, my voice trembling with anger and fear. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Leandro didn’t even flinch. His expression was calm, almost amused, as he looked down at me. The disguise was working for now — his mustache was poorly done, and his hair was tucked under a cap, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He was still recovering from the night before — I could tell by the bruises under his eyes, the signs of exhaustion on his face.
“I missed you,” he said simply, his voice still low and casual, as if he weren’t standing in the middle of a deathtrap. “And I thought it’d be fun to pay you a little visit.”
“A visit?” I asked, incredulous. “You’ve got a death wish, Leandro. You can’t just walk into a dinner like this! If anyone sees you—”
“I know the risks.” He cut me off, his tone sharper now. “But I couldn’t stand not seeing you anymore. I couldn’t get you out of my head. So, yeah, I’m here. Deal with it.”
I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to scream at him for being so reckless, for putting himself in danger, for making me feel like I was walking on a razor’s edge just by being near him.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I stepped closer to him, my chest rising with frustration, my breath hot against his face. “You can’t stay here,” I whispered urgently. “You need to leave. Now.”
He didn’t move. Instead, he stepped forward, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that made my heart race. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Why have you been ignoring me? You’ve been busy, huh? Too busy for me?”
I froze. His words hit me harder than they should have. The guilt, the confusion—it all crashed into me at once.
I had been avoiding him. I’d convinced myself it was for my own safety. But part of me… part of me had been avoiding him because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what we were. Or if there was even something between us.
“I… I haven’t been avoiding you,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I just… I’m dealing with too much. This whole thing with Elio, my parents…” I trailed off, my voice faltering as I turned away, not wanting him to see how much I was falling apart inside.
He reached for me then, his fingers brushing my chin to turn me back toward him. His touch sent sparks across my skin. "I can’t get you out of my head, Isabella. I keep thinking about you. I keep wanting you. You don’t know how much I miss you, how crazy I am thinking about you."
The way he spoke — like he needed me, like I was the one thing that could ease the madness inside him — made my heart skip a beat.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned in and kissed him. It was desperate. It was hungry. It was everything I had been trying to fight against. His lips were urgent against mine, his hands gripping me as if he were afraid I might disappear.
But then, just as quickly as it had started, he pulled back, his breath ragged. "You can’t walk away from this, Isabella," he said, his voice raw, almost pleading. “You can’t keep pretending that you don’t want this.” I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Isabella?” Elio’s voice called from the other side. “What are you doing in there? We need to talk.” I pulled away from Leandro, panic rising in my chest.
"Go," I whispered frantically, my hands shaking as I pushed him toward the window. "Now."
But Leandro didn’t move. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward him again, his lips crashing against mine one last time. The kiss was deeper this time, more desperate, as if we both knew this might be the last moment we had.
“Isabella? Are you okay in there?” Elio’s voice, thick with annoyance, cut through the tension between us.
Leandro stepped back, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. I knew he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. But I had to get out of here. I had to leave before everything exploded.