Secrets

Leni.

My head throbbed like someone was pounding it with a hammer. I didn’t even bother opening my eyes—every part of my body ached, as if I’d been crushed under a freight train. The pain was sharp, unforgiving, making it hard to breathe.

Bits and pieces of the last hour flooded back in disjointed flashes. I was driving home... Then the realization hit me—I was being followed.

Wait. Home?

My eyes flew open, and panic surged through me. This wasn’t home. The unfamiliar room was dimly lit, the air smelled sterile, and everything around me was unsettlingly quiet. My heart pounded. Where the hell am I?

I glanced down, realizing my wrists weren’t tied. Relief washed over me for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by fear. I had to leave. Now.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my body screaming in protest. The floor felt cold beneath my bare feet as I tried to stand. My vision blurred, and the next thing I knew, the room tilted violently.

Strong arms caught me just before I hit the ground.

"Careful," a voice said, low and steady.

I looked up into Dusan’s familiar, unreadable eyes.

"You shouldn’t be moving," he added, his grip firm yet gentle as he steadied me.

I froze, confusion and fear colliding in my chest. "What are you doing here?"

I froze in his arms, my heart racing from both fear and confusion. Dusan’s dark eyes studied me, his lips curving into a smirk.

"What a way to thank your savior," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

I frowned, trying to pull away from him, but my legs were still unsteady. "Savior? You shouldn’t even be here."

He let out a low chuckle, helping me back to the edge of the bed. "You’re welcome, by the way. For catching you before you cracked your skull."

"Forgive me for not rolling out the red carpet," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dusan raised a brow, clearly enjoying the exchange. "You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone who was almost dead a few hours ago."

I blinked, his words hitting me like a bucket of ice water. "What... What happened? Where am I?"

"Safe," he replied simply, leaning casually against the wall as if this were just another day. "For now, at least."

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You’re not answering my question."

His smirk faded slightly, replaced by something darker. "Matteo has a lot of enemies, Leni. He did well to keep you hidden, but it seems word finally got out. And now… here we are."

His words sent a chill down my spine, but anger quickly replaced it. "If he did such a great job at hiding me, then why am I here?" I snapped. "He wouldn’t involve me in his silly business unless—" I stopped, realization dawning on me.

Dusan tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. "Unless what?"

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling with anger. "Unless this is your fault. All of it."

He laughed then, a low, mocking sound that made my blood boil. "My fault? Interesting theory, but I’d love to hear the logic behind that one."

"You waltz into his life, start talking about deals and partnerships, and suddenly I’m being dragged into all this madness? What else am I supposed to think?"

Dusan’s smirk returned, but his eyes held a warning. "Careful, Leni. Blaming me won’t change the fact that your father’s world is dangerous, and you’re a part of it now. Whether you like it or not."

My breath caught, realization washing over me but I quickly masked my reaction. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said carefully. "I’m just a legal representative. That’s it."

His brow arched, his smirk returning as if I’d just told a clever joke. "A legal representative? Is that what we’re calling it now?"

"That’s what it is," I shot back, my voice firmer this time.

He leaned forward, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing. "Interesting, because most legal reps aren’t hidden from the world nor do they get tailed by San Dias mafia. And they definitely don’t crash their cars trying to outrun them."

My chest tightened. "Maybe you’ve mistaken me for someone else."

Dusan chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Nice try, Leni. But I don’t believe in coincidences, and neither do the men who tried to take you out tonight."

I looked away, my fists clenching. "If this is about my client list, I can assure you—"

"This isn’t about your client list," he interrupted, his voice low but commanding. "It’s about who you are. And why someone out there thinks you’re worth killing—or keeping alive."

My heart raced as his words hung in the air.

“No one thinks I’m worth killing at all, well, except you. I’d like to leave now, Dusan,” I said, attempting to push myself upright.

He watched me, his eyes narrowing as a smirk played across his lips.

“You’re quite the character, Leni. Still clinging to your family’s secret, even now.”

The calm menace in his tone sent a chill down my spine. He knew more than I’d expected, and there was no point in feigning ignorance anymore.

“How long have you known?” I asked, trying to keep my voice firm.

“About your existence?” He tilted his head. “Since your fake funeral. I was at the hospital the day you slipped into a coma.”

The distance between us shrank as he took slow, deliberate steps toward me, his presence almost suffocating.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well,” he drawled, “for starters, I understood your father’s desperation to keep his only child out of this world. And frankly, what you and your family do isn’t my business.”

I exhaled, relieved. At least he didn’t know about my sisters. That secret, for now, was safe.

“I left the house to avoid suspicion. The real question is, how did they know I was there in the first place?”

“Seems your father has a blind spot when it comes to screening his men.” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “And to be fair, I didn’t expect you to walk into the study, either, мелочь.”

Before I could reply, his hand reached out, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger.

“Ever heard of personal space? Guess not,” I snapped, taking a step back.

He scoffed, amused, his eyes never leaving mine. They seemed to dig into my soul, unearthing thoughts I’d buried. And fuck—he was beautiful, in the kind of way that made my life feel even more unfair.

His lips curved into a rare, full smile. Not the smug smirk he usually wore, but something softer. More devastating.

“You’re beautiful, zheltofiol. You’ve got more color now than you did before. I like it.”

The words struck deeper than I’d like to admit. No one had ever noticed how much life I’d lost after Franz’s death. Yet here he was—a stranger and heir to a mafia dynasty—spotting it like it was obvious. My life really sucked.

“Here,” he said, snapping me from my thoughts. He held out a phone. “You should call your father.”