The car pulled up smoothly in front of the private lounge where the bachelorette party was being held, a sleek, modern space tucked away from the main resort, all warm lighting and frosted glass, feminine and intimate without being overwhelming. A discreet sign by the entrance read Private Event.
Bella shifted beside him, smoothing the fabric of her dress one last ti. The slit parted, revealing a glimpse of her thigh, and Leo’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
The driveway was already lined with cars. Through the frosted windows, silhouettes of won moved gracefully, laughter drifting faintly into the night air. Hazel’s party. No n allowed.
Leo had never been so grateful for a gender segregated event in his entire life.
His gray eyes swept the periter as the driver opened the door, a habit, instinct, the constant calculation of threat. A few n loitered near the entrance, drivers, security, a handful of husbands and boyfriends dropping off their partners. Their eyes tracked the arriving won with varying degrees of subtlety.
Leo stepped out first, positioning himself between Bella and the watching eyes. His presence alone, tall, broad shouldered, radiating quiet danger, made most of them look away quickly. The ones who did not received a cold, sweeping glance that promised unpleasant consequences.
He extended his hand to Bella, helping her from the car. The dress caught the streetlight as she rose, the fabric shimring, the slit offering that devastating flash of skin.
More eyes turned.
Leo’s hand tightened slightly around hers.
He walked her to the entrance, his body a shield, his gaze daring anyone to look too long. By the ti they reached the door, most of the onlookers had suddenly found the pavent fascinating.
At the entrance, he finally stopped. He turned to face her.
The warm light from inside spilled over her, catching the soft waves of her hair, the subtle shimr on her cheeks, the gentle curve of her smile. She looked up at him, and for a mont, the noise of the world faded.
"Take care," he said quietly. His voice was rough.
"You too," Bella said seriously, her brown eyes searching his face with that focused concern she always carried when it ca to him. "Make sure you do not drink. And please, if you feel even a little bit unwell, tell . Imdiately. I do not care if you are in the middle of sothing. You call ."
Leo nodded slowly, his gray eyes fixed on her lips as she spoke, watching the way they moved, the soft pout of her bottom lip when she finished talking.
"Okay, ma’am," he said quietly.
Bella’s eyes went wide. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
A laugh burst out of her, bright, surprised, utterly delighted. "Did you just, did you just ma’am ?"
His lips twitched. "You gave an order. I acknowledged it appropriately."
"I am not a ma’am. I am your wife."
"My wife," he repeated, the words warm and slow, "who just gave a very stern order. Ma’am felt appropriate."
She was still laughing, shaking her head, her cheeks flushed with amusent. "You are ridiculous."
"I am obedient."
"You are sothing."
He pulled her close again, just for a mont, pressing his smile against her hair. Her laugh vibrated through him, warm, and he held onto it like a treasure.
"Go," he murmured. "Before I keep you here all night."
She pulled back, still smiling, and pressed one last quick kiss to his lips.
"Be good," she whispered.
"I am always good."
Her laugh followed her through the door.
And when he turned away from the entrance, the shift was instantaneous.
Like a switch flipped.
The warmth that had softened his features monts ago vanished, replaced by sothing cold and carefully controlled. His jaw set. His gray eyes cooled to slate. By the ti he reached the car, he was no longer Bella’s husband. He was Leonardo Moretti, walking into enemy territory.
The drive to the n’s party was short. The venue was a private club further up the mountain, all dark stone and smoked glass, pulsing with low bass even from outside. n in sharp suits loitered near the entrance, cigars in hand, laughter carrying on the night air.
Leo stepped out.
The mont his feet hit the pavent, conversations nearby dipped. Eyes tracked him, so curious, so wary, all recognizing the weight of his presence. He walked past them without acknowledgnt, the doors parting for him like water.
Inside, the atmosphere was different.
Loud music. Low lighting. The gleam of crystal and chro.
And won.
Several of them.
So draped over furniture in expensive lingerie, laughing at sothing a guest said. Others on a small stage near the back, moving around poles with practiced grace, their bodies catching the colored lights.
Leo’s gaze swept the room once. Twice. Clinical. Disinterested.
He did not care.
None of it touched him. The won were background noise, set dressing for a scene he wanted no part in. His eyes kept moving, searching.
Then he spotted them.
A booth near the back, half curtained for privacy. Jay was there, head thrown back laughing at sothing, a drink in his hand. Jace sat beside him, more controlled but visibly amused. Across from them, Dom was gesturing wildly about sothing while Jason nodded along, grinning.
They looked ridiculous. Loud. Happy.
Leo’s jaw loosened slightly, just slightly, as he walked toward them.
But his eyes kept scanning.
Where was that rat face?
He slid into the booth beside Jay, who imdiately clapped him on the shoulder.
"Bro. You made it. Where’s Bella? Safely delivered?" Jay’s words were slightly slurred, the telltale sign of several drinks deep.
"Delivered," Leo confird shortly, his gaze still roaming.
Jace noticed. "Who are you looking for?"
Leo did not answer imdiately. His eyes landed on a figure across the room, lounging in a separate booth, surrounded by won, that insufferable smirk firmly in place.
Nicolas.
Of course.
Their eyes t across the dim space. Nicolas raised his glass in a mock toast, that smug smile widening.
Leo’s expression did not change. But sothing in the air around him grew heavier.
"There he is," Dom muttered, following Leo’s gaze. "Rat face, in his natural habitat. Surrounded by won who are being paid to laugh at his jokes."
"Paid very well," Jason added. "I checked. His credit card is taking a beating tonight."
Jay snorted. "You two are obsessed."
"We are observant," Dom corrected. "There is a difference."
Leo leaned back in the booth, one arm spreading along the back, his gaze still fixed on Nicolas with the cold patience of a predator.
"Let him enjoy himself," Leo said quietly. "He will dig his own grave."
Dom raised his glass. "To graves."
"And credit card statents," Jason added.
They drank.
Across the room, Nicolas laughed loudly at sothing, his arm draped around a woman who smiled on cue.
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