Kimberly POV
"Why did you say she died because of you?" I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Leonardo's expression hardened, his eyes focused somewhere distant. "I couldn't let the sleeping dog lie," he said, his voice low and heavy.
Salvatore. The name resonated like a dark omen—dangerous and deadly, a shadow cast over the past.
Leonardo's jaw clenched as he continued, "He was never worthy of being family. I tried to fight it, against my sister's pleas. I didn't listen, and my mother paid the price."
It took me several moments to piece it all together, the realisation snapping into place like a final puzzle piece. My eyes widened.
"Salvatore… is Emily's husband?" The shock laced my words.
Leonardo's muttered "Smart" was all the confirmation I needed. The silence that followed was heavy, the air between us taut with unspoken pain. He didn't elaborate, and I understood the unspoken boundary. This wound was still raw, and pressing it further would break what little trust we had.
"Come on, let me show you something," I said, trying to ease the tension, tugging at his arm with a half-smile.
He raised an eyebrow, some of the storm in his eyes receding. "Show me what?"
"How to trim, of course," I replied with a playful tug. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and a quiet chuckle escaped him.
I guided him to the flowerbed, placing my hands over his to show him how to carefully remove thorns and shape the blooms. But Leonardo's hands were not meant for gardening, and his first few attempts ended in clumsy cuts that marred the delicate flowers. When he inadvertently ruined the fifth one, we both burst out laughing.
"Ugh," he groaned, shaking his head in mock frustration.
I pointed a playful finger at him, eyes dancing. "If you cut the sixth one, Leonardo, her ghost will haunt you," I teased.
His movements stilled, and I felt the air shift as he turned to look at me. My pulse quickened; I hadn't meant to bring the mood down with that comment. Before I could apologise, he plucked a flower deliberately, meeting my gaze with a smirk.
"Well, so be it."
I gasped, more at his unexpected reaction than the act itself. Relief swept over me as he shrugged nonchalantly.
"No ghosts," he said, eyes narrowing in mock accusation. The childishness of it sent me into fits of laughter until tears pricked at my eyes. The moment hung between us, fragile and precious.
Like on impulse, a white butterfly fluttered down, landing gracefully on a nearby bloom. Both of us went silent, the small creature's delicate wings catching the light as if it carried a message.
"There it is," I whispered.
"Here she is," Leonardo corrected softly, and my heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his voice. I hadn't noticed the tears streaming down my face until I felt the wet warmth on my cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Mum," he whispered, and as if in response, the butterfly flapped its wings twice as if to answer, *It's okay, my son* before lifting into the sky. In that moment, the powerful Mafia Don was gone, replaced by a boy in mourning, a boy yearning for his mother's comfort, a son seeking forgiveness.
The butterfly danced away, and I reached out impulsively. "No!" I shouted. "I want to touch it."
But it slipped away, and I stumbled forward. Strong arms caught me, steadying me. Our faces were so close that without thinking, I closed the gap, pressing my lips to his. For a heartbeat, I feared rejection, but then he responded. The kiss turned fervent, and he dominated with a passion that left me breathless.
We broke apart only when breath became a necessity, both of us panting. His eyes gleamed with a rare mix of amusement and challenge.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a terrible kisser?" he teased, smirking as he stepped back toward the house.
I laughed, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. "You just did," I said after him, still grinning.
He paused, one eyebrow raised. "You sure?" And with that, he disappeared inside, leaving me standing there, breathless and savouring every second of what had just happened.
And I couldn't help but stay back to cherish the moment I just spent with him.
---
The next morning, I called out to him as he passed by. "Hey," I said, testing the waters. His glance was inquisitive but not cold. It felt safe enough to try.
"I was thinking…" My words faltered. I hadn't heard from Ian in a while, and the longing to reconnect gnawed at me.
Leonardo's eyes flickered with a knowing glint. "I'll get you a landline," he said, cutting through my hesitation.
"But I want Netflix," I replied, pouting dramatically.
A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he looked at me. "Promise me—no more mistakes."
"No more mistakes," I echoed, nodding fervently.
"You'll get a landline first," he said firmly, turning to leave.
"Nooo!" I groaned, dragging the sound out as if that would change his mind. But he kept walking, leaving me with nothing but hope that he might reconsider.
---
Later, I was leaning over the kitchen counter, half-distracted with sketching, when Enzo's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Ma'am, the boss had this delivered for you," he said, setting down a sleek, modern landline phone.
I let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Leonardo kept his word.
"Thanks, Enzo," I muttered. The device was already set up, all gleaming and functional. I dialed Ian's number quickly, the familiar thrill and anxiety thrumming through me as it rang.
"Hello?" came Ian's voice, bright and familiar.
"Lan! How are you?" Relief flooded through me at the sound of him.
"Kimberly? You've gone AWOL again!" His mock frustration made me smile.
"My phone cr—" I bit my tongue, realizing it was the same excuse I'd used before. "I'm sorry, Lan. Really. How have you been?"
The conversation flowed, our laughter filling the silence I hadn't noticed around me. Ian spoke of a new crush, and I found myself giggling, a slice of normality amidst the chaos. An hour passed before I realized how long we'd been talking.
Then it hit me: Leonardo had told me to call him first. His number was pre-saved, so I pressed it with a sense of impending doom. It rang once before his voice, gruff and
expectant, came through
"Hello,"
The air shifted, and I knew in that instant—I was in trouble.