BOUND BY CONTRACT, CLAIMED BY DESIRE

Chapter 18: The Conversation

Valentina's POV

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, touching the necklace around my neck, the clasp warm against my skin.

I got out of bed, and checked my phone which was 11:47 PM. I pulled on a robe, walked to the door and opened it quietly.

The penthouse was dark except for a faint light coming from the living room. I walked down the hallway and stopped at the edge of the living room.

Leonardo sat on the couch, whiskey glass in hand, staring out at the city.

"Can't sleep?" I said, stepping into the room.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, his eyes red.

"Same as you,” I said, folding my arms.

"Go back to bed, Valentina,” he said, as he heaved a sigh.

"I wanted to thank you,” I muttered, my lips in a small smile.

"For what?" He said, as he furrowed his brows.

"The necklace."

"I don't know what you're talking about,” his jaw tightened, as he adjusted slightly.

"Yes, you do,” I said, taking a step forward.

"Mrs. Chen found a jeweler. I had nothing to do with it."

"Mrs. Chen didn't know it was broken,” I said my gaze fixed on him, but he said nothing and just turned back to the window.

I walked closer and sat in the chair across from him. "Why did you fix it?" I asked.

"I didn't,” he replied, tapping his foot on the floor.

"Leonardo."

"Drop it, Valentina,” he said, as silence stretched between us. He lifted the glass to his lips but didn't drink and just held it there.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, looking at the sharp line of his jaw, and the tension in his shoulders.

"No,” he said, giving me a boring look.

"What were you dreaming about? Last night,” his hand tightened around the glass.

"I told you to forget about that,” his voice rose a little, as yhe tension between us tightened.

"I can't. You were crying, calling for your mom,” my brows were furrowed, my gaze fixed on him.

"This conversation is over,” he said, as he set the glass down, the table shaking slightly.

"I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to understand,” my voice was soft, my body calm, but I struggled to calm my breathing.

"There's nothing to understand."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

"Because talking changes nothing,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

"It might,” I whispered.

"You think one conversation will fix me? Fix this?" He said, laughing coldly.

"I don't think you need fixing,” I said, tapping my hands on my lap.

"Then you're more naive than I thought,” he said, the words stung, but I folded my hands in my lap.

"My father died when I was ten, and my mother got sick a year ago," I said quietly, and Leonardo looked at me, but didn't speak.

“She worked so hard after my father died, and due to stress, she had been in a coma since.”

"Valentina, you don't have to..."

"I need to,” my voice cracked.

"He nodded once and leaned back against the couch, as I took a breath. "The last three months when she was sick were the worst. She couldn't eat, couldn't walk. I had to help her to the bathroom, change her clothes, wash her hair."

"She forgot things. My name sometimes, where we were. She'd wake up crying, asking for my father."

"I'm sorry,” Leonardo said, his voice soft.

"The day before she went to coma, she looked at me and smiled. She said, “You're going to be okay, Valentina. You're stronger than you think,” my throat tightened, as I touched the necklace at my neck.

"I sat with her for hours in the hospital, holding her hand, waiting for her to wake up. But she didn't,” I said, as I heaved a sigh, massaging my forehead softly.

I touched the necklace again. The clasp he fixed, the heart he mended.

I looked up at him. "So when you fixed it, when you remembered something I didn't even tell you mattered, it felt like..."

"Like what?"

"Like someone saw me,” Leonardo stared at me, as something shifted in his eyes.

He set the glass down, and rubbed his face with both hands. “My mom was always too much," he said, and I went still.

“My dad…he cared, but was controlled by my mom. They gave me everything a kid could want; fancy schools, big house, but…”

“Continue,” I said.

“They didn't support me emotionally, always expecting the best from me without giving me any support. They were always busy to attend my school parties, and I was bullied by students.”

“I came home with a black eye once and my mother just told me to ice it myself.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said, my eyes already teary.

“So…I did my best, built cross tech industry from nothing even if my father had everything and blocked every emotions, but deep down, I always want her to see me, without the wealth…just me.”

"But I never felt like I belonged. And Isabetta…her mother ran away after giving birth to her, and Catarina is always there for her, to the extent she's pushing me to get married to her."

"Alessandro tried, but Catarina told him it would make me weak. That I needed to learn to be strong on my own,” he said, as my chest ached. "You were little.”

"I know."

"Leonardo, that's not strength. That's abandonment,” I said, and his eyes met mine. They were raw, vulnerable and filled with tears.

"I learned early that needing people was dangerous. That showing weakness meant being hurt. So I stopped crying, stopped asking and built walls."

"And now you're trapped behind them,” I said, as he looked away. "I'm not trapped. I'm safe."

"You're alone."

"Same thing."

"No, it's not,” he said, as he stood, walked to the window and pressed his palm against the glass.

I stood too, walked toward him and stopped a few feet away.

"Thank you," I said. "For telling me."

"I shouldn't have,” he whispered.

"Why not?" I furrowed my brows.

"Because now you know…that I'm broken,” he said, his voice low, and for the first time, I saw a little boy hurt, but still standing.

"You're not broken, Leonardo. You're hurt. There's a difference,” I replied, and he turned to face me, his eyes searched mine.

I took a step closer, as his breath hitched. "Valentina."

"Yes?"

"This doesn't change anything,” the words hit like a slap, but I could see it in the way his hands shook.

"What?" I said, folding my arms.

"This conversation. It doesn't change the contract, the rules…us."

"But..."

"We're still strangers. Still temporary, two years and we're done."

“You don't mean that,” my brows furrowed, as my throat tightened.

"I do,” his expression changed to the cold billoniare.

"You fixed my necklace."

"That was a mistake."

"Go to bed, Valentina,” he said, as he walked past me toward the hallway.

“Leonardo,” I called after him, but he didn’t stop.

I stood alone in the living room, the city lights blurred through my tears.

He reached out, let me in, showed me his pain, then pulled back like I burned him.

"This doesn't change anything,” I remembered what he said.

But he left me a piece of himself and that's not nothing.