(Leonardo POV)
The car rolled up the drive, tires whispering over wet stone. My house rose from the darkness like a pale monument, marble walls catching what little moonlight broke through the storm clouds. Some called it a mansion. To me, it was a fortress built from other men's failures.
Gun ports were carved into decorative arches. Guards stood silent at the entrance, black coats pressed tight against the rain, eyes scanning every shadow that moved. Men who had killed for me and would kill again without question.
I watched her watch it all.
Isabella leaned forward in the leather seat, eyes sharp, not wide with fear. She didn't shrink back or pretend not to see what was right in front of her. She catalogued. The number of guards. The placement of gates. The heavy iron doors that could stop a small army.
Most people who came here drowned in intimidation before they ever reached the front steps. Politicians. Rival family heads. Federal agents with search warrants and sweaty palms.
She studied the place like she was memorizing weak spots.
It irritated me. More than it should have.
"Not afraid?" I asked.
She turned her head, met my eyes without hesitation. "Should I be?"
The corner of my mouth twitched. She knew the answer. But she wanted me to say it aloud, to see how I'd react to her boldness.
The car stopped with barely a whisper of brakes. Rico stepped out first, then opened her door with military precision. She emerged into the rain, water immediately flattening her dark hair against her cheek. She didn't brush it back or flinch from the cold. Her shoulders stayed square as she tilted her head back to take in the full sprawl of the house.
Four stories of pale marble. Windows like watching eyes. Balconies that could hide snipers. A place built for war, not comfort.
"This is where you live." No awe in her voice. Just fact.
"Yes."
"It looks less like a home, more like a battlefield."
I stepped beside her, close enough to smell the rain in her hair. "That's because it is."
Her eyes flicked to me, quick as a knife blade catching light. For a moment, I thought she might smile. She didn't. But something passed between us. Acknowledgment, maybe. Understanding.
The recognition that we both knew what survival cost.
Rico led us up the marble steps, past guards who might have been carved from stone themselves. The front doors were solid steel disguised as wood, thick enough to stop anything short of a rocket launcher. They swung open at our approach, revealing the cathedral space inside.
The entrance hall stretched up three stories, lit by chandeliers that cost more than most people made in a year. Marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Frescoes on the ceiling that hid cameras in their painted shadows.
She walked inside like she owned the place. No hesitation. No looking around in wonder like some tourist. Her heels clicked against marble with steady rhythm, each step measured and sure.
The air smelled of polished stone and gun oil. Faint, but there if you knew what to look for. She glanced at the guards stationed in corners, noted the cameras mounted above the grand staircase.
"You must sleep well at night." Her tone was dry as winter air.
"On the contrary. Sleep is a luxury men like me can't afford."
Her gaze lingered on me then, steady and probing. She was trying to see through me, peel me open with her eyes the way she'd peeled her father apart with words back in that cramped apartment.
And I hated that I was letting her.
I should have admired her nerve. Most people who entered my house did so on their knees, begging for mercy or favors. She walked through like she was evaluating real estate.
Instead, I found myself restless. Uneasy. Admiration and irritation coiled together in my chest until I couldn't tell which was stronger.
"Impressive security," she said, eyes tracking the sight lines from guard positions. "But everything has weak points."
"Does it?"
"Everything." She looked at me again, and this time there was something almost like challenge in her dark eyes. "Even you."
The words should have been insulting. Threatening, even. In my world, suggesting the Don had weaknesses was the kind of mistake that ended with concrete shoes and river water.
But from her lips, it sounded like a promise.
Rico cleared his throat softly. "Don. Should I show Miss Rossi to her quarters?"
Her quarters. The rooms I'd had prepared while she packed her single bag. Guest quarters, technically, but with locks that worked both ways. A beautiful cage for a beautiful bird.
"In a moment." I didn't take my eyes off Isabella. "First, let me make something clear."
She waited. No nervous shifting. No clasped hands or downcast eyes. Just patient attention, like she was genuinely curious what I might say.
"This house has rules. You'll follow them, or the consequences will be... educational."
"And those rules are?"
"You don't leave without permission. You don't contact anyone outside these walls. You don't go anywhere alone." I stepped closer, close enough to see the rain droplets still clinging to her eyelashes. "And you remember that you're here because I allow it."
She considered this, head tilted slightly. "And if I break these rules?"
"Then you'll discover why most people are afraid to even speak my name."
"Mmm." The sound was almost thoughtful. "And when do I get to see the rest of your fortress?"
The question caught me off guard. No fear. No pleading. Just practical curiosity about her new prison.
"Tomorrow. Tonight, you rest."
"Will you be showing me around personally?"
There was something in the way she asked it. Not flirtation, exactly. More like she was testing boundaries, seeing how far she could push before I pushed back.
Fearlessness. It burned brighter than fear, hotter than rage. And for the first time in a long time, I couldn't decide if I wanted to crush it completely or feed it until it consumed us both.
"Perhaps." I nodded to Rico. "Show her to the blue suite. Make sure she has everything she needs."
Rico bowed slightly. "Of course, Don."
As they moved toward the staircase, Isabella paused and looked back at me. "Leonardo?"
My name on her lips sent something electric down my spine. "Yes?"
"Thank you. For letting me save them."
Before I could respond, she was following Rico up the marble stairs, her silhouette disappearing into the shadows of the upper floors.
I stood alone in my fortress, surrounded by guards and cameras and enough firepower to level a city block. But for the first time in years, I felt like I was the one being watched.
Like I was the one being hunted.