Page 41 of Till Death Do Us Part

When I awake again, sunlight streams through unfamiliar grey curtains. The mattress I’m lying on is like a soft cloud, and when I roll over, my eyes are drawn to a photo frame on the bedside table.

A younger Leonardo stares back at me, his arm thrown over the shoulder of a petite, dark-haired woman who could be his twin. Their eyes are a matching shade of chocolate brown, and the easy smiles on their faces are like a mirror image of one another.

My heart clenches at the sight—though I don’t know why.

The smell of bacon pulls me from the bed, and I throw my legs over the edge, noticing I’m no longer in the Catwoman costume but an oversized hoodie that is far too big for me.

It’s that moment I remember the explosions, the mansion falling to pieces, and my heart plummets. Not for the home that was never mine, or the belongings I learnt to love, but for the lives lost. For the people who had made a home in that place.

For their families, their friends.

I’m not naïve enough to believe that it’s all about me. It’s clear the Italians and Russians have bad blood between them, but there’s something about the fact that this all ramped up since I’ve been around. Or is there more to the story I’m not understanding?

Who the fuck am I kidding?

There’s always more to the story.

I drag myself from the comfort of the bed, and pad barefoot out of the bedroom. The unfamiliar hallway is painted with magnolia and bare of any décor. It leads to an open-plan kitchen and living room, which are almost as bare as the hallway.

There’s a basic grey couch in the lounge, pointing towards a large flat screen TV on the wall, and in the kitchen, there’s a large island, a kettle on one counter and a coffee maker on the other, but not much of anything else.

Leonardo stands over the stove, the muscles on his back taut as he leans forwards to stir something. Without a shirt, his tan tattooed skin glistens under the golden glow of the sun shining through the large window. The black and grey ink begs me to trace the lines etched into his skin. Lowering my eyes, I notice the grey sweatpants covering his legs and almost whimper when he turns around.

I’m sure all men know that the universal weakness for women is a pair of grey sweats, and when I see the outline pressing against the material, my knees almost buckle. His answering chuckle sends a spark of heat straight through me.

“Where are we?” I blurt, dropping my gaze to the floor when he stalks towards me. His long legs eat up the space between us and he wraps his arm around my back and pulls me into his chest.

My palms land on his chest, the muscles tensing under my touch. He leans down, his breath fanning over my ear when he talks. “This is my penthouse.”

“Where is everyone else?” I push him away, putting some much-needed distance between us. Being in his presence after our last two interactions is too overwhelming, I can barely breathe under his watchful eyes. “What happens now? The mansion, it’s gone. Where do we go?”

“Well, for now, you stay here, with me. Antonio is staying at the casino and given how many breaches of security we’ve had lately, the safest place for you is anywhere that he isn’t. So you’re stuck with me for a little longer, think you can handle it?”

I won’t lie and say the thought of being away from Antonio doesn’t fill me with instant relief. I know I can’t stay here forever, but a little longer to come to terms with our life together is welcome. However, I don’t know how possible that is if I’m stuck with the man in front of me.

Leonardo makes me question everything.

“I have nothing here,” I tell him, gesturing at the jumper covering my body. The material falls to the middle of my thighs, so it’s not inappropriate necessarily, but being even a little underdressed in his presence isn’t good for my sanity.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I have clothes you can wear for now, and we’ll pick up whatever else you need another day. First you need to eat. Then we have to head to the casino.”

“Okay, but do you have a phone I can borrow for now? I need to call my family.”

With a nod, he reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out his mobile to hand to me without hesitation. Thanking him, I grab it and spin on my heels to rush out of the room.

I end up in the bedroom again, falling face-first onto the mattress and dialling the number of my family home back in England. After only a handful of rings, my father’s voice comes down the phone and a wide smile lifts my lips.

“Hey, Papá.”

“Bambina, is that you?” he asks happily, his voice a welcome sound. “How are you, my sweet girl?”

“I’m good, Papá. Though I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Now, why are you ringing off Leonardo’s phone?”

My nose wrinkles at his question, confused as to why he would have Leonardo’s number. As far as I’m aware, he’s only ever met the man that one time at my wedding, and there’s no reason I can think of as to why they’d need to be in contact.

“How do you know whose phone this is?”

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