Page 60 of Rosetti Family New York

He stomps toward me, the fury rolling off him in waves. I open my mouth to speak, to explain, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

His eyes flare as he paces. “I had everyone looking for you. Do you get that?” he snaps, turning on me with fire in his hazel eyes. “I had my men all over the city looking for Juliet. But you made them chase after you instead, pulled them off the trail.” He pauses, and for a moment, I see more than anger in his face. The barest flicker of something raw and unguarded. “You put her in even more danger with your little stunt. You know that, right? Because of you, I had to call them back from finding her.” Thewords hit me, each one like a strike. I feel smaller with every accusation he hurls at me, every truth I can’t deny.

I struggle to find something to say, anything that might break through, my voice trembling. “I thought—” I start, but he cuts me off, the force of his rage filling the room.

“Did you think at all?” he shouts, his temper finally breaking through his control. “Or do you just not care what it costs to get what you want? No wonder you were willing to make the trade. You’re just like your father.” The words slice through me, more painful than anything he could have done. I stand there, feeling the weight of my failure, the truth of his accusation.

But I can’t bring myself to regret it, because Juliet is safe in the next room, away from the Albanians, away from father.

But I’m also the reason Leonardo is looking at me like I’m the enemy. Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

I finally find the strength to break the silence. “You can divorce me,” I say, forcing every word out even though a part of me feels like I’ll shatter in the process. My voice is quiet but unyielding, conviction pushing through the exhaustion. “I broke every rule you gave me. You don’t have to keep me anymore.” The words taste bitter, and I fight back the sting of regret, the thought that I’ve lost more than I meant to.

His head lifts slightly, and for a second, I think he’s not going to respond, that he’s going to walk away and leave me here to drown in this uncertainty. Then he turns.

The look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. Dark. Livid. Possessive.

He strides toward me, slow and deliberate. I brace myself for the worst, for him to cut me loose and make it final. But he stops just in front of where I sit, so close I can feel the heat from him, and I can’t breathe. His fingers curl under my chin, tilting my face up to his. “You think that’s how this works?” His voice is low, dangerous, a storm on the edge of breaking. “You thinkyou can break my rules, trade yourself away like some kind of martyr, and then just walk away?”

I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. “I—”

“No.” The word is final, cutting. I flinch under the weight of it. He drops his hand and steps back, dragging a rough hand through his wild dark-red hair. “You’re mine, Eleanor. That hasn’t changed.” His jaw clenches. “It’s never going to change.”

Something cracks inside me. “I— I thought you’d be done with me.”

His eyes flash. “Done with you?” He shakes his head, a sharp, incredulous breath leaving his lips. “I almost lost my goddamn mind tonight. Do you have any idea what it was like to find out you were gone? To know you were in their hands?”

I open my mouth, but he doesn’t let me speak.

“I’ll tell you what it was like.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “It felt like someone put a gun to my chest and pulled the trigger. Over and over again.”

I stare at him, my breath catching. This—this is different. Not just possessiveness. Not just control. It’s something deeper.

“I don’t care how many rules you break,” he says. Each word is a blow, but beneath the fury, beneath the outrage, I hear something raw and vulnerable. “I don’t care how much you fight me, how much you think you can push me to let you go.” The desperation in his voice makes my heart slam against my ribs. I shake my head, trying to make sense of what he’s telling me, but he doesn’t stop. “You are mine, Eleanor. And that means you don’t get to throw yourself to the wolves and think I’ll just watch it happen. You don’t get to decide you’re expendable.”

He moves closer again, slower this time. Purposeful. Forcing me to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. His voice hardens as he towers over me. “Not to them. And sure as hell not to me.” His words sear into me, each one unraveling the fear I’vebeen holding inside, the fear that he’d be done with me, that I’d pushed him too far.

I’m not used to anyone wanting me this way, and it steals the breath from my lungs. My eyes burn, and I hate that I feel like crying, but it’s too much. The weight of everything I’ve done, everything I almost lost.

I can barely get the words out. “I just wanted to save Juliet.” My voice is small, wavering under his unrelenting stare.

He exhales sharply, like I’ve missed the point entirely. “I know.” A beat of silence. “But next time? You don’t do it alone.” He drops to his knees in front of me, never breaking eye contact, and the world tilts. His fingers curl around my wrist, warm and firm, anchoring me in place. “You don’t run from me, Eleanor. You run to me.”

Something in my chest tightens, twists. How is this happening? How am I sitting here, listening to him say these things, feeling a glimmer of hope where I thought there was nothing left? Even now, after the way I've defied him, the way I've challenged everything between us, Leonardo is still here. Unyielding. I nod, barely trusting myself to speak.

"Good," he murmurs. The word is a promise, as if he's heard everything I can't say. His gaze pierces through me, a long, searching look that leaves me breathless. Then he lifts my hand. His lips brush against my knuckles, the softest touch in contrast to the steel in his gaze. My breath catches, and for a moment, the whole world narrows down to that single, unexpected tenderness.

“Because you’re not getting rid of me.” Each word pulses with certainty, the force of his vow. “Not now. Not ever.”

32

Leonardo

Gray dawn spills through the window. It stains the walls, winding through the room, curling into the corners where Eleanor’s words haunt me most.You act like you already own me.She said that on our wedding night, and has said it a hundred times since, in different ways.

She never wanted this. She never wanted me. Her father forced it on her, then I carried on his good work, acting like his fucking second-in-command. Caging her, controlling her, treating her like property.

Last night, she offered to divorce me because she thought I didn't want her. I turned her down, of course, but that's not the same thing as setting her free. It's the opposite. It's keeping her close.