Leo
Don Carlo, forgive me.
I played the girl like a card I swore I'd never put on the table. Told myself it was strategy, necessity, survival. But standing alone in my office with the city breathing through bulletproof glass, all I felt was guilt—heavy and persistent, like a bruise you can't stop pressing.
Now that she knew the truth, she'd probably leave.
And I wouldn't fault her for it.
Luca would keep eyes on her. I'd make sure of that much, at least. Distance was safer—for her, and for me.
"Any mess to clean up after last night?" I asked, shutting my office door harder than necessary.
Luca jolted awake at his desk, one cheek creased from sleeping on his arm. He squinted at me like he was deciding whether to shoot or curse me.
"The only mess you've got," he said flatly, "is sitting downstairs with Raf's ridiculous fur ball. Streets are clean. Whatever Lorenzo was planning, he backed off. If he actually gives a damn about Sophie, he's gone quiet."
Good.
"Then we move," I said. "We take back the docks. Anything marked Casanova gets wiped—swift and silent. I don't know how long Sophie plans to stay, so we use the advantage while we have it."
Luca stopped typing. Leaned back. Studied me.
"You've got no intention of letting her walk free," he said. "Raf knows it. I know it. Hell, even the damn cat knows it. Unless you want Don Carlo dragging you into his grave with him."
That name still carried weight.
Carlo had been ruthless with enemies and merciless with men who disrespected women. He raised us on that rule. Anyone who crossed it didn't get second chances.
"I told her she was free to go," I said quietly. "And I'm a man of my word."
Luca didn't argue. Just turned back to his screens.
A beat passed.
"She's at work," he said. Then paused. "And—Leo—she took the damn cat with her."
I blinked. "What?"
He spun the laptop around.
There was Sophie behind the café counter, smiling as she handed a customer a drink. And perched beside the register, sitting like a tuxedoed gentleman guarding a throne, was Oreo.
Rafael's traitor of a cat.
Sophie's smile lit up the room—bright enough that you couldn't see the shadows tucked just beneath it.
I grabbed my jacket. "I'm going for a drive."
"We have coffee here."
"I don't want our coffee," I said. "Call me if anything changes."
This guilt wasn't going anywhere until I faced her.
Sophie
The café slowed just after noon, the lunch rush fading into lazy chatter and clinking cups. My hands shook when I finally stopped moving.
"Angela," I said, forcing a smile. "Can I use your phone? Mine's in the shop. Screen cracked."
"Of course, sweetie."
I stepped outside, heart pounding, and opened the browser.
I typed his name.
CASANOVA MOB SETS FIRE TO LOCAL NIGHTCLUB. LOCAL CASINO UNDER INVESTIGATION FOR MAFIA TIES.
My stomach dropped.
"If you had questions, my love," a voice purred behind me, "you could always ask."
I froze.
That accent—silk and poison—wrapped around my spine.
"You lied to me," I said, turning slowly. "For three years."
Lorenzo smiled like I was still his. "You never asked. And you were happy. Is it so wrong for a monster to want to be normal?"
His hand touched my shoulder, too gentle. I shrugged it off.
"You don't get happiness at the expense of my peace," I said, voice shaking but steady. "You don't get my love and my body while sharing our bed with other women. You don't want a lover—you want a puppet. And I'm not yours."
I stepped away.
Behind him, Leo appeared like a shadow made solid.
Gun raised. Pressed to Lorenzo's head.
My breath caught.
"Sounds like a solid no," Leo said coolly. "Might be time to leave."
"I'm not going with either of you," I snapped. "I'm at work. And I have a cat."
Leo arched a brow, amused.
"Jumping another man so soon?" Lorenzo sneered.
"Sleeping with other women while still in a relationship?" Leo shot back. The gun clicked.
My heart slammed. "Leo—stop. I don't need saving. And if you're going to kill each other, let me go inside first."
The gun lowered.
"I'm a monster," Leo said calmly. "But I have honor."
Then he walked away.
I turned to Lorenzo. "This doesn't end how you think. You don't get the happy ending. Not with me."
I went inside before he could reply.
Leo stood at the dessert case like he belonged there.
"Can I get you something?" I asked, stunned.
"I don't go to cafés," he said. "I saw a pretty girl being harassed by a lunatic and… wound up inside. Whatever you recommend."
I served him pumpkin cheesecake. Vanilla chai.
And a cat.
"Do you give all patrons a cat," he asked dryly, "or am I special?"
"He's yours," I said. "We help them find homes."
"Tell me more."
"You actually care?"
"Would it be so bad if I did?"
I rambled. He listened.
When I finished, he asked Angela, "You letting her stay upstairs?"
I froze. "It's storage. I lied before."
He slid a black card across the counter. "Don't stay. Go wherever you want."
"Leo—"
He was already gone. Oreo tucked under his arm.
And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.
The most dangerous monster I'd met wasn't the one who lied to me for three years.
It was the one who cared enough to let me go.