I woke up to a headache that felt like someone had thrown a party in my brain and left without cleaning up. At first, it was just an annoying throb, but as soon as I tried to move, the pain only intensified.
My eyes wobbled in their sockets like they hadn't quite figured out how to work together. Everything was blurry for a moment, but then memories started to surface—bits and pieces of last night: tired, me hitting my head, the fever...
Wait. Who had taken care of me?
Leo?
Leonardo...?
I reached out to the side of the bed, expecting—what exactly? Warmth? A presence?
But my hand met only cold sheets.
Oh. This was a different room.
For a second, that realisation hit me like a wave. Had I started thinking of the "other" room as mine?
No. Definitely not. That was just... temporary. Right?
And then, like a slap from a nosy memory, I recalled Leonardo touching my breast.
I bolted upright, instantly regretting it. "Nope, nope, not thinking about that!" I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut like I could erase the thought. My headache, apparently offended by my sudden movement, roared back in protest.
Still, the strangest part was that I wanted to see him.
The man who—okay, yes—had touched me in a way I definitely hadn't asked for... had also taken care of me? I wasn't sure what to make of that, but the curiosity was like a stubborn itch I couldn't ignore.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. Bad idea. Everything tilted around me, and I lost my balance."
With all the grace of a dropped potato, I hit the floor.
"Ugh," I groaned, clutching my head.
The door burst open, and Helen, my ever-vigilant attendant, rushed in with Enzo right behind her. "Ma'am!" she cried, hurrying to my side.
"Why would you try to stand?" she scolded, sounding more exasperated than worried.
"I... wanted to see…," I mumbled, too groggy to come up with an excuse.
Helen huffed as she and Enzo hoisted me back onto the bed—aka The Monster Mattress. It was so big, I was surprised it didn't have its own zip code.
"You shouldn't be moving yet," Helen Said sternly. "You're still recovering."
"Recovering from what exactly?" I asked, pressing my temples.
"You had a fever, ma'am. And... you sort of vomited on your bed." Helen winced, as if reliving the horror. "The Master carried you here himself."
I blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Yes," Helen said, straightening like she was delivering Very Important News. "The Master brought you here himself."
I stared at her. "Leonardo "carried me?"
Helen nodded, her expression carefully neutral.
I sank back into the pillows, stunned. Leonardo—the same man who couldn't seem pleased with my presence,had... carried me to another room?
"Why would he do that?" I whispered, more to myself than to Helen. But the question hung in the air like a balloon waiting to pop.
Before I could ponder it further, Enzo's voice interrupted my thoughts. "You should rest, ma'am."
I glanced at him, feeling the familiar flicker of annoyance. Enzo wasn't exactly my favourite person—especially not after the time he slapped me. But today? Today, he couldn't touch me.
That realisation hit me like a little spark of victory.
He or anyone couldn't lay a hand on me now. I was Leonardo's wife.
Well, "bride", technically. But still.
I shot Enzo a sarcastic smile. "Tell me where Leonardo is."
His eyes widened slightly. "Boss is... busy." His tone was clipped, almost defensive.
"That's not an answer," I said, the headache making me sharper than I intended. "Where is he?"
Enzo hesitated, then finally gave in. "He's in his study, across the hall to your left."
"Thank you," I said, giving him a quick grin. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
He shot me a look that was half-warning, half-exasperation. "Boss isn't in the best mood today," he muttered.
"Do I look like I'm trying to make his day worse?" I teased, ignoring the fact that I kind of was.
Enzo just sighed. "Good luck, ma'am."
I waved off his concern and shuffled down the hallway, bracing myself against the walls as the room continued to sway. Enzo's directions were spot-on, and soon I found myself standing in front of the door to Leonardo's study.
Suddenly, the confidence that had carried me this far vanished . My heart did a weird little flip, and for a moment, I considered turning back. But then I heard voices from the other side of the door.
"Clear it up… leave No traces, And no room for mistakes …"
I froze, curiosity prickling at the edges of my mind. "What were they clearing without traces?
"If this goes wrong..."
The sentence trailed off, leaving me dangling on the edge of uncertainty. My heart raced. I knew I shouldn't be doing this, but I couldn't help it—I pressed my ear to the door, hoping to catch more.
And that's when the door swung open.
I stumbled forward, colliding with something—or rather, someone.
Strong hands caught me just before I could face-plant on the floor. My nose bumped against warm fabric, and the unmistakable scent of Leonardo filled my senses—like cedarwood and trouble.
I looked up, heart hammering. There he was.
The man I wasn't sure if I hated or... maybe, just maybe, something else entirely.
And judging by the cold glint in his eyes, he knew exactly how much trouble I was in.