Leo
The room smelled like old leather, smoke, and whiskey—my office reduced to a war room by midnight.
Luca sat across from me, silent and sharp-eyed, Sophie's phone cradled in his hands like a weapon. The screen glowed against his knuckles as he scrolled.
"Find anything?" I asked, pouring us each a glass of whiskey. The bottle made a dull, tired sound as it hit the desk—like it already knew how the night would end.
He exhaled through his nose. "She's clean. Too clean. By the way she talks, by the way she texts… she doesn't know we exist. She worships the ground he walks on. Doesn't see the blood under his shoes."
I slid his glass toward him.
"He's been skimming shipments, blowing up our docks, and hiding behind her like a saint," Luca continued. "Makes sense now why she'd walk into our bar without fear. I almost feel bad."
"I told you to play nice," I said quietly.
Luca shot me a look. "Why did you bring her here, Leo? This is the worst possible place for her."
I leaned back, the chair creaking under my weight. "And where would you suggest? Drop her in the middle of our territory and hope Lorenzo doesn't follow? Leave her in one of our hotels and pretend that makes her invisible?"
Luca downed the whiskey like it was water.
"We keep her here," I continued. "Raf takes her to work in the morning. We let the dust settle."
His jaw clenched. "He's calling her phone."
I didn't hesitate. "Answer it."
If we were going to end this, we'd do it fast.
The line clicked.
"Leonardo," Lorenzo's voice oozed through the speaker, thick with venom and velvet Spanish. "I didn't think you were the type to steal another man's woman."
I smiled without humor. "I haven't slept with her—yet. Rafael, on the other hand, has a reputation. I'd worry about him if I were you."
A pause. Then fury.
"If you or your pigs lay a hand on her, I'll burn your empire to the ground."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "She walked into my bar on her own. Asked me for a drink. And when the night ended, I offered her protection. Funny thing is—she doesn't even know who you really are. Sounds to me like you're the coward."
Silence. Then breathing.
"She's not going anywhere," I continued calmly. "Not until you get out of my territory. Might want to leave my businesses alone for a while. Hard to say which building she might wander into. I'd hate for her to be collateral on your account."
I ended the call before he could respond.
The silence afterward was heavier than gunfire.
"I'm not a toy in another man's war," Sophie said softly.
Her voice cut straight through the room.
I turned.
She stood in the doorway, pale but steady, Rafael's ridiculous black-and-white cat curled asleep in her arms. Oreo, oblivious to the fact that wars were being waged around him.
"I want to leave, Leo."
The way she said my name—like it hurt to hold—did something ugly to my chest.
"I see you've met our other guest," I said, nodding toward the cat. "He doesn't trust easily."
"He's sweet," she replied. "But that's not the point."
I stood, slow, careful. "You're not going anywhere."
Her eyes darkened—not with fear at first, but betrayal.
"There's a war at my doorstep," I continued. "And right now, you're the only leverage that keeps it from crossing this threshold."
I hated myself as the words left my mouth. My father would've dragged me out back and put a bullet in me for using a woman like this.
"I'm going home," she said. "There's an apartment above the café. My boss will let me stay. I won't talk. I'll forget this place ever existed."
She looked at me like she was already breaking.
"Home?" I asked quietly. "To a man who wouldn't care if you caught a bullet meant for him? Tell me something, Sophie—if I let you go… would you actually be happy?"
That did it.
Her composure cracked, just a little.
"With a man who shares his bed with everyone but you?" I added, softer now, crueler for it.
Tears burned in her eyes.
"You're a monster," she whispered. "A fucking monster. And I hate you."
She handed Oreo back to Rafael with shaking hands. "Thank you for dinner."
Then she turned and ran down the hall, her footsteps echoing like gunshots.
The door to her room slammed.
The guilt hit hard and immediate.
"Make sure she doesn't leave the house," I ordered, my voice steel even as my insides twisted. "Luca and I have work to do."
Rafael nodded once. He didn't look amused.
When the room emptied, Luca poured himself another drink.
"So," he said dryly, "house guest to prisoner in one evening. Don Carlo would've killed you."
I stared at the closed hallway where she'd disappeared.
"Yeah," I murmured. "And somehow… that's not the part that scares me."
Because wars were easy.
Women like Sophie?
They were the kind of trouble that ruined men slowly—and for good.