The name that returns
1005 Words
“Did you see her face, Marco?”
Leonardo’s voice cut through the quiet of the private suite, low and edged with irritation. “She looked at me like I was nothing. Nothing.”
Marco stood a few steps away, holding a glass of whiskey in both hands. “You mean the girl from the auction, sir? The one who outbid you?”
Leonardo’s jaw tightened. “Aria Moretti.” He said her name like it was a challenge. “She didn’t just outbid me, Marco — she humiliated me. In front of everyone.”
Marco hesitated, wisely keeping his eyes down. “Perhaps she didn’t mean—”
“Don’t defend her,” Leonardo cut in sharply, taking the glass from Marco’s hand and downing it in one gulp. “No one does that to me. Not in public. Not anywhere.”
He paced toward the wide glass window that overlooked the city lights of Milan. The skyline glittered like broken glass under the night, and the reflection of his own scowl looked back at him. “She didn’t even look impressed. They always are, Marco. Always.”
Marco nodded. “You’re used to it, sir.”
Leonardo let out a dry laugh. “Exactly. I’m used to being the one people notice, the one they fear or want.” He ran a hand through his hair, his irritation softening into something thoughtful. “But her? She didn’t even care.”
Marco stayed silent. He knew that tone — when Leonardo’s voice went quiet, it meant his mind was already turning gears.
After a long pause, Leonardo finally asked, “What do we have on her?”
“On Miss Moretti?” Marco lifted a tablet from the table, scrolling. “Daughter of Riccardo Moretti. She runs a few art galleries and consults on high-end auctions. Public image: clean, polite, untouchable. Her father owns several international shipping companies.”
Leonardo smiled faintly, his voice dropping. “Untouchable. They said the same thing about half the men we buried.”
Marco glanced up at him. “Sir…”
Leonardo waved him off. “Relax, Marco. I’m not planning anything—yet.”
He poured himself another drink, letting the amber liquid swirl. “What about our other business? The Palermo situation.”
Marco cleared his throat. “It’s handled. They won’t interfere again.”
“Good.” Leonardo’s tone cooled instantly. “I told them what would happen if they crossed us. Next time, they’ll think twice.”
Marco nodded. “I’ll make sure the message is delivered clearly.”
Leonardo’s lips curved, a dangerous calm settling back over him. “Perfect.”
For a while, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the city beyond. Then Leonardo set his glass down and said, almost lazily, “Bring someone up.”
Marco blinked. “Someone?”
“A distraction,” Leonardo said simply. “Blonde. I don’t care who. Just make sure she understands what tonight is and isn’t.”
Marco inclined his head and left without another word.
Minutes later, a soft knock came at the door. A woman stepped in — tall, elegant, with golden hair and an eager smile. Leonardo barely looked up from the file he was reading.
“Wow, you are even more Handsome in person. Leonardo de Bologna.” She said in a breathy tone, as if it were a compliment.
He finally lifted his gaze, eyes narrowing slightly. “And you’re interrupting my thoughts. Sit.”
She obeyed, perching on the edge of the couch. He watched her for a moment, then stood and walked closer. His presence filled the room; he didn’t need to raise his voice. The air around him always seemed heavier when he moved.
“You look nervous,” he said quietly.
She shook her head quickly. “No, I just—”
He brushed a knuckle along her jaw, watching the way her breath caught. “You should be.” Then he turned away and reached for his drink again, bored already. “Pour yourself something. I hate silence.”
She obeyed, though her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the decanter.
Leonardo watched her reflection in the window. She was pretty, but she meant nothing. None of them did. His thoughts kept circling back to Aria — the flash of defiance in her eyes, the calm way she’d dismissed him. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
“Do you always stare at the city like that?” the woman asked softly.
Leonardo smirked. “Only when I’m remembering who it belongs to.”
Her eyes widened a little, but she didn’t ask more questions. She knew better. He finally dropped the glass and aimed for her lips mercilessly. The woman was scared at first but later on gave in as he was too irresistible.
By the time she left in the early hours of the morning, Leonardo didn’t even glance up. He simply waved a hand toward the door and said, “You’ll find a car waiting outside.”
Marco reappeared a few minutes later, holding a folder. “She’s gone?”
Leonardo nodded, straightening his cufflinks. “And good riddance.”
Marco cleared his throat. “There’s someone waiting to see you, sir.”
Leonardo raised an eyebrow. “At this hour? Who?”
“Riccardo Moretti.”
The name dropped into the room like a stone in water.
Leonardo’s fingers stilled on his sleeve. For a moment, there was no sound — not even the hum of the city outside. Then he turned slowly toward Marco, his expression unreadable.
“Riccardo Moretti,” he repeated, voice low. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”
Marco nodded. “He says it’s urgent.” It sounds ridiculous to him. His daughter just outbid him yesterday in front of everyone and today he is here to see him.
Leonardo’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. “Then let him in.”
- Writer
