The party had begun to thin. Music mellowed into background whispers, laughter softened into murmurs. The warm glow from the chandeliers bounced off golden champagne glasses and the polished wood floors. But none of it seemed to touch Leona.
She stood stiffly by the open balcony doors, the evening breeze tugging gently at her dress. Her eyes, however, were anything but gentle.
They were locked on him.
Valerio.
He stood across the room, still as a statue, a half-empty glass of wine in his hand, Chiara now long gone. His shoulders were tense, his expression unreadable—but it was the weight of her stare that made him look away first.
Leona had never glared like that before. Not at him.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.
It was silent, scalding, and laced with more meaning than any spoken word. Betrayal, maybe. Doubt. And something else—a question she wasn't asking aloud, but he felt it in every inch of his skin.
Why didn't you push her away?
The sharpness of her gaze burned through him until he finally dropped his eyes. He hated it. He could face guns, knives, betrayal from people he called blood—but her silence, her disappointment, tore deeper.
Valerio moved, slow and unsure, toward her. She didn't move.
"Leona—"
"Don't," she cut in softly, tone firm. "Don't explain."
He exhaled, frustrated. "I didn't encourage her."
"Didn't stop her either."
That landed hard. He looked at her, almost pleading, but Leona's arms were folded across her chest, her expression composed but stormy beneath.
"Do you want her, Valerio?" she asked, calmly. But her voice had that lethal undertone, the kind that didn't beg—it warned.
His brows furrowed. "No. You know that."
"Do I?" she asked, tilting her head. "Because from where I stood, she was touching you like she's done it before. Like she thinks she still can. And you stood there."
Valerio ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer. "That was the past, Leona. Years ago. Before I even knew you existed."
"Maybe," she said, "but if I mattered, there shouldn't have been a moment's hesitation."
His chest ached, but he couldn't disagree. Not with her logic. Not when he saw the way Mason had looked at her earlier—and the way she hadn't pushed him away.
Jealousy clawed at him.
"I didn't want to cause a scene," he muttered.
"You didn't want to choose," she corrected. "But you did anyway. Just not me."
That shattered something in him.
"I choose you now," he said suddenly. "I choose you, Leona."
Her jaw clenched, tears threatening behind her eyes—but she blinked them back. "Then act like it. Not just here in a crowded room. But always. Especially when I'm not around."
He stepped forward again. "I will. Just… don't shut me out."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and for a brief second, he saw the rawness she was hiding—the fear of being second, the echo of abandonment.
"I'm not scared of Chiara," she said. "I'm scared you'll flinch every time someone from your past shows up. And one day, I won't be enough for you to choose at all."
Valerio shook his head, firmly. "You're already enough. You're more than I deserve."
She looked down.
He gently reached for her hand, waited—waited for her to pull back, but she didn't.
Her voice dropped. "I just don't want to feel like a fool for falling."
"You're not," he whispered. "If anything… I should be the one scared of falling harder than I already have."
There was silence. But her fingers curled slightly into his, holding on.
"I'm still mad at you," she said, though her tone had softened.
"You should be," he nodded, tugging her gently toward him.
Leona let herself be pulled in for a moment, her head resting against his chest. His heart was pounding, thundering against her ear.
"Let's go somewhere quieter," she murmured.
His lips ghosted her temple. "Anywhere with you."
The music in the background faded as Leona led Valerio across the room, her hand gently guiding him. His steps were slower, the alcohol taking its toll, but there was something in his eyes — a warmth, a pull that she couldn't ignore. She knew the tension between them was palpable, but tonight, something felt different. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the overwhelming emotions, or just the moment they were sharing. Either way, it made her heart race.
She settled him onto a plush couch in the corner of the room, carefully placing him down. Valerio blinked, his head tilting back as he let out a long breath. His usual confident demeanor was now softened by the haze of the alcohol, his eyes drowsy but still full of that intensity that always made Leona's stomach flutter.
Leona took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn't the first time she'd felt this pull toward him, but tonight felt like the right time to close the distance between them. There were no more games, no more doubts. She wanted this. She needed to know what it would feel like to be close to him in a way they had never been before.
Slowly, she knelt in front of him, her movements calculated but gentle. She watched his eyes track her every move, and for a moment, she wondered if he realized just how much he was affecting her. Then, with a careful, deliberate motion, she straddled him, her hands resting on his shoulders for balance.
Valerio's breath hitched, and she noticed the way his gaze softened as she met his eyes. He was too intoxicated to fully respond, but she could see the subtle way he leaned into her touch, the way his body reacted to hers.
Without a word, she leaned in, closing the space between them and placing her lips softly on his. It was tentative at first, just the lightest of touches, a whisper of a kiss that left her breathless. But then the kiss deepened, the intensity building, fueled by the emotions neither of them had spoken aloud.
Leona's hands moved to his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled with the buttons. She wasn't sure why she felt this urge, this need to be closer to him, to strip away the layers between them. But it felt right. She wanted him to feel what she felt, to experience the pull between them that had been building for so long.
The buttons came undone, one after another, and she pulled his shirt open, exposing his chest. Her lips trailed down to his neck, kissing him lightly, and then she pressed her lips to his ear, hearing the soft breath catch in his throat. She felt his pulse quicken beneath her, his body responding even in his intoxicated state.
Leona's hands moved over his chest, lightly tracing the lines of his muscles, her fingers brushing over his skin in a way that made her heart race. She could feel his hands on her waist, unsure but not pushing her away. It was a dance of give and take, of something that had been building for so long, something neither of them had ever fully acknowledged until now.
Her lips found their way back to his, this time more urgently, more passionately. The kiss deepened, and she could feel the heat rising between them. It wasn't just physical — it was everything. It was the tension they had both ignored, the desire they had both buried. And now, in this moment, there was no more holding back.
Leona's hands wandered, tracing the outline of his shirt, her fingers brushing over the fabric in a way that left behind a trail of warmth. When she pulled away, she noticed the faint imprint of lipstick on his shirt, a mark that made her smile despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat between them building even more.
The urge to have him has always lingered somewhere in her mind but Chiara in the picture, she felt she needed to put a claim, claim him to be hers. The rational side of her was asking her not to but the god damn territorial side of her. She cupped Valerio's face gently, caressing his cheeks with her thumb. Without letting any other thoughts come to her mind, she leaned closer to his neck while Valerio just surrendered to the moment, to HER, she needed nothing more to make sure of her decision. She gently sucked on an exact spot, she knew it would be visible for sure.
Valerio's mind was foggy from the alcohol, but every touch, every kiss from Leona sent jolts of heat through his body, sharp and electrifying. His intoxicated state only heightened the pull, making it harder to resist the undeniable chemistry between them.
"Leona-", his voice came out strained as he arched back giving her the proper access.
Leona just smirked against his skin hearing him say her name like that, that moment Leona was gone… She had someone as strong as Valerio Moretti wrapped in her fingers. Knowingly the reactions of his family or more of Chiara, she kept leaving her marks on him.
She placed a soft kiss on his collarbone, her lips leaving behind a mark, a reminder of this moment, of the connection they were sharing. His hands slid to her back, pulling her closer, but she gently pulled away, her chest rising and falling with every breath. She could see the desire in his eyes, but there was also something else — a vulnerability she hadn't seen before.
Leona's eyes met his, and in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, surrounded by the chaos of the world, but in their little bubble, there was nothing but this raw, undeniable connection. She couldn't put it into words, but she knew she felt it. And she knew he did too.
Valerio didn't realize when he stood up. His body moved before his mind could catch up, driven by something raw and visceral. The lipstick marks on his shirt, the burning imprint of Leona's lips on his skin, the taste of her still lingering on his mouth, the hickeys—it was too much. She had straddled him, stolen his breath, and then just wanted to walk away with that innocent little smirk as if she hadn't turned his world upside down in less than five minutes.
"Leona," he growled under his breath.
She turned slightly at the foot of the stairs, raising an eyebrow. That damn smirk was still dancing on her lips.
He didn't think. He followed. Past the hallway where the music still played faintly. Past the long archway where laughter echoed. His strides were hungry, determined.
They crossed through the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered again after dinner. His mother was chatting with Nonna, Alessia was laughing at something Mason said, and Dante stood nearby sipping wine. For a second, everything felt slowed down.
Leona was ahead of him by just a few steps, swaying deliberately. She knew exactly what she was doing. And Valerio… forgot everything else.
He grabbed her wrist gently but firmly.
That's when it happened—Chiara looked up from across the room. Her eyes narrowed just in time to see Valerio's hand around Leona's waist, pulling her flush against him, lips grazing her ear as he whispered something only for her. Her posture tensed. Mason, who was mid-sentence with Alessia, followed his sister's gaze. Dante arched a brow, catching the shift in Valerio's usually composed demeanor. Alessia? She just let out the smallest, knowing chuckle.
Valerio didn't care who saw. He didn't break stride. He gave the smallest smirk, one that screamed mine, and Leona leaned back into him like she was daring him to do more.
They disappeared up the stairs.