Kimberly POV
As quickly as Leonardo caught me, he steadied me, his hands firm but detached. His dark gaze pinned me in place, searching my expression with a flicker of something unreadable—confusion, maybe, or indifference.
I shifted uneasily under his scrutiny. Before I could think, I blurted out, "I came to... check on you."
His brow lifted, but his tone was flat. "For what?"
The words I had rehearsed vanished like smoke. "I, uh... wanted to thank you for yesterday."
Leonardo leaned back slightly, the shadow of boredom crossing his face. "You're welcome. You can leave now."
Frustration boiled up inside me. His coldness was suffocating. "Why are you so cold? What kind of husband are you?"
His eyes sharpened, as if I'd crossed a line. "Husband?" He repeated the word, a loaded question. "That's just for appearances. Remember?"
I flinched, though I tried not to let it show. His words stung, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "You didn't have to remind me," I muttered under my breath.
He gave a faint, humourless smirk. "Seems like you needed it."
I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the anger rising in my chest. "I just want to talk."
Leonardo's gaze darkened, but I didn't wait for his permission. I sat on the couch across from him, stubbornly holding his gaze, despite the way his presence unsettled me.
Sitting this close, I could see everything—the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the dark intensity in his eyes. He looked like one of those Greek gods I'd read about in stories. But this wasn't a fantasy. Leonardo was all too real.
His silence weighed heavy between us. "Well?" he asked, his voice low. "I'm listening."
I took a breath, willing myself to hold on to my courage. "Yesterday," I began slowly, "you could've left me for Helen to take care of. Why did you stay with me?"
Leonardo's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something almost vulnerable. "My mother," he said, his voice clipped. "She used to get fevers when she was stressed. It nearly killed her once. You looked... like her."
For a moment, the mask slipped, and I glimpsed the weight he carried beneath the cold exterior. The way he spoke, it hurt him to say those words without emotion. And yet, I felt for him.
"Is that all?" I asked, softly now.
Leonardo's jaw tightened. "Why do you care, Kimberly? There's no reason for you to know."
"I just want to know." I pouted, more out of frustration.
His gaze sharpened, and suddenly he was on his feet, crossing the space between us in two strides. His presence pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. I tried to hold my ground, but my heart was pounding.
"This isn't a game," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to pry into my life just because you're curious."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" I shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "How am I supposed to live in peace when you've abducted me?"
Leonardo ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. For a brief moment, I saw something unexpected—a flicker of regret, or maybe guilt. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Come with me," he said abruptly.
Curiosity tugged at me, and before I could stop myself, I followed him out of the room. We moved down the long hallway, his strides swift and purposeful, forcing me to hurry to keep up. The mansion was massive, with endless doors and dark corners that seemed to swallow the light.
Leonardo stopped at a door near the end of the corridor. He opened it without a word, and the heavy scent of metal hit me as soon as I stepped inside.
The room was bathed in the dull glow of a red light bulb, casting multiple shadows on the walls. My breath caught in my throat. Weapons lined every surface—guns, rifles, blades, silencers, knives. The sight of them made my stomach churn with a sickening sense of familiarity.
My feet stayed rooted to the spot. The memories I'd tried to suppress crashed down on me—my father's death, the gun that ended his life, and now, the possibility that one of these weapons could do the same to me.
The headache I thought had left me surged back with brutal force, and my legs wobbled beneath me. I swayed, but before I could hit the ground, Leonardo's arms wrapped around me, steadying me once again.
"This is the life I live," he murmured, his voice quiet but filled with meaning. "The life you're a part of now."
I stared at the weapons, my pulse racing.
The words escaped me before I could stop them. My mind raced back to my first escape attempt—the guard who had tried to help me, and how quickly Leonardo had shot him, without hesitation, despite his pleas. He could kill me too. The realisation settled like a cold weight in my chest.
"I need a plan, I'm not safe here" I said to myself. "I need to leave."
"A phone." I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "I need a phone." I said instead.
Surprise flickered across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual guarded expression. "I'll get one for you."
Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden. I thought of my brother, the reason I was trapped in this nightmare. I had stayed to protect him, to give him a chance at a better life. But now, I was the one who needed saving.
Leonardo's voice cut through my thoughts. "Curiosity will get you killed, Kimberly."
I blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.
"This world is war," he said quietly. "And the moment you choose to know more than you should... you're choosing curiosity over your life."
I swallowed hard as we made our way back to the door. My gaze lingered on the weapons, and a nauseating thought struck me—the same gun that killed my father could one day be used on me.
My knees buckled again, and I stumbled. Leonardo was there in an instant, catching me, his hands steady on my arms. I looked up at him, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes. He was far taller than me—too tall, it seemed—and for a moment, all I could do was stare, my vision blurred by unshed tears.
Before I could think, his lips crashed down on mine. I gasped, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I kissed him back, tasting the tension, the frustration, the unresolved feelings between us. His mouth moved against mine in a fierce, desperate dance—a fight for control neither of us wanted to lose.
When he bit my lower lip, a soft moan slipped from me, unbidden. The sound startled him, and he froze. For a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me harder—but instead, he pulled away, his breath ragged.
"This is a mistake," he muttered, his voice strained. "Everything is fake."
And then, without another word, he turned o
n his heel and slammed the door shut, leaving me standing there, dazed and breathless.