Page 74 of Fierce Secrets

And that her father's death had been my doing, not his.

This didn't shock her as much as I'd thought it would, and she'd continued to bring up her medical records. Medical records I'd uncovered when we were still young, before I'd killed her father. I'd always suspected, but Meredith had never shared the truth, and I had no way of truly knowing. And implanting a video camera back then to find out the truth wasn't possible, not with my family ties and the risk, let alone the fact that technology had not yet advanced far back then for small cameras.

She then spoke of our past, including that recital all those years ago. She was such a skilled pianist, and I'd been awestruck by her performance. Sure, I'd heard her practice and play in the house, but this was different, she was playing before a crowd, and yet she was so lost in what she was doing, feeling the music. She was beautiful and divine, and I'd been transfixed.

A recital her father had not even bothered to attend.

Whatever frustration I'd felt at him was washed away as she'd continued to speak, asking if she'd always been my weak spot.

And then she'd said things I'd never dreamed of. That she understood, that she accepted me and wanted me. That she needed me even still.

She'd straddled me, and despite my shock, she'd continued to kiss me, and I couldn't hold back.

There was no holding back when it came to her, not with what she'd said.

I knew she understood the weight of her own words. How she could accept me for the things I'd done, the life I lived, knowing the things I'd continue to do. She was accepting it all, because it was her choice, and she was choosing me.

The need to have her right then, to fuck her right there on the desk, to have her feel how much she meant to me, to hold her tight as I buried myself in her, it was too much. I'd kissed her, professed to her, and then shit had hit the fan.

The sound of gunfire shattered the moment, and the need to claim her was quickly overtaken by the need to protect her as I tugged her behind me, my weapon drawn. I snatched up the earpiece from the desk I'd been using, shoving it in my ear before I moved. I gripped Meredith's hand tight, leading her through the villa, hoping Gray was getting Sofia to safety as well. My men were already engaging the intruders – I could hear Roman coordinating the defense through my earpiece.

It had to be the Malatesta, but how had they found the villa? Our safe-houses were safe-houses for a reason. Unless one of us was followed. That was the only explanation.

Fuck.

"Leo—"

"It's going to be fine, Mer. I promise. I'll keep you safe, always," I vowed as I tugged her into another study down the hall. Thankfully, Gray was here already, and the panic room, hidden behind a false panel, was open as Sofia entered it.

"Gray." Mer clung to my hand but stepped to the side to hug her brother, but it was brief.

"Get inside, stay safe, Mer. We'll handle this," Gray said, his voice firm as those steeled eyes met my own. We needed to protect her, at least we could agree there.

Meredith, by some sheer miracle despite her stubborn nature, didn't argue, and I led her into the panic room, nodding at Sofia.

"Stay here," I commanded, but Mer's fingers wrapped around my arm, stopping me.

"Come back to me, Le-Le.” Her voice was steady, her eyes clear despite the gunfire outside. No trace of the fear I'd seen years ago when she'd witnessed violence. But that nickname, one she’d not used in so long, the one that threw me right back to when we were younger. It was everything right now. The link of our past and present colliding.

I pulled her close, kissing her hard. She tasted like everything I'd ever wanted and everything I shouldn't have. Like a reason to keep fighting and to survive. When I pulled back, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark.

"I'll always come back to you," I promised, then sealed her inside the reinforced room.

I looked at Gray, who nodded knowingly, his own weapon drawn.

Time to remind everyone why the Donati name was feared.

CHAPTER 27

MEREDITH

Through the panic room's security feeds, I watched Leo move like this was all second nature, each motion precise and deadly as he checked the rooms with my brother, clearing them. Now I understood why people whispered his name with fear – he was beautiful in his violence, terrible in his efficiency. I imagined every shot found its mark, every movement had purpose.

His violence should have terrified me, his nature, how this was as normal as breathing. Instead, I found myself praying he'd eliminate every threat, destroy anyone who dared come after us.

Since when had I begun wishing for such things?

My Le-Le.

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