Chapter 24: Say It Again

Leone’s control had slipped and smashed into unrecoverable bits when she created an unneeded distance between them.

His eyes bored deeply into hers; they promised her no good, and she was smart enough to read them. Without another word, she got up and sat on the chair closest to him.

Anna’s cheek was flushed, and she was at least glad that the lights on this side of the room were dim, making fewer people see her change seats.

“You don’t own me, Leone,” she muttered, but loud enough for him to hear, and although she had simply said it for clarity, she was unaware that it had made something snap in him.

Her eyes fell back on Maurizio, who had just concluded his speech, and numerous people stood up to have a handshake with him.

A tall man in a red suit wordlessly came and sat at their table. His hair was blood red, his eyes black, his jaw sharp and firm. He was handsome too, just like Leone, but what was he doing here? Was he Leone’s cousin, perhaps?

“Maurizio,” Leone called nonchalantly, and Anna’s brow quirked up. Was this guy the son of the elderly Maurizio who hosted the ball? Definitely, he was.

Just like Leone, he evoked power, dominance, and control. In fact, they could both pass as twin brothers.

“Vicenzo.” His lazy eyes fell on Anna, and Anna’s back went stiff. He also gave her that demonic vibe, and Anna felt like hiding behind Leone.

“You must be Anna,” he smiled at her, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m Massimo Maurizio, a very good friend of Leone,” he introduced himself.

Anna nodded, gulping saliva down her dry throat. “Anna Lorenzo,” she said, even though he probably knew that already.

He flashed her another smile, and Anna wished she could tell him not to do that anymore. His smile was colder and even more sinister than the last, making her cringe.

“I’m sure you must be very excited to get married to Leone.” His eyes briefly drifted to Leone, like they were both communicating telepathically.

Anna felt flabbergasted, almost choking on her saliva. “You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m getting married to Domenico, not Leone.”

“I see now,” he nodded. “Pardon me for the… misinformation,” he said, stressing the ‘misinformation’ like there was a hidden meaning behind it which she didn’t know.

Both of them began speaking in Italian, none of which she could understand, which pissed her off to no end. She could fluently communicate in Russian, but the Italian language was something she could never learn after growing up in Russia all her life.

“La ragazza bionda con i begli occhi azzurri è mia,” was the last thing Leone said before Massimo stood up and left their table, but not before giving her a polite bow.

Anna memorized Leone’s words. She would definitely find out the meaning later.

“I would like to go to the washroom again,” Anna said without looking at him.

She was about to get up and leave when his words stopped her. “Sit,” he ordered.

Leone had suddenly graduated from being annoying and irksome to being controlling. The controlling part also irked her, and she had had enough of it.

Regardless of his words, she stood up and left, ignoring his earlier command. Her footsteps were fast to ensure he wasn’t following her.

Instead of taking the route that led to the washroom, she took another one and was greeted with a flight of stairs, which she ascended.

She walked through a glass door and was greeted with an outdoor balcony, with beautiful flower pots sitting on the glass shelves.

Anna had always loved flowers, and seeing the varieties of flowers here made her smile warmly. At least it helped her fix her mood, which Leone had completely destroyed.

What was his problem? She was sick of him ordering her around like one of his men. For Pete’s sake, she was getting married to Domenico and not him. He had no right to act like he owned her or something. Hell, she wished she could delve her two fingers into his eyes.

Her hand fondled the smooth petals of the purple rose, her favorite flower. It was very rare to find, but luckily for her, they had had a whole collection of it back home, and she was the only one in charge of taking care of the flowers.

It quickly dawned on her that this flower might be owned by Leone’s scary friend. Since his father is the host of the Omerta Ball, she was sure they owned this place too.

She quickly brought her hand back to her side, sighing loudly. She turned to leave, but then she saw Leone leaning on the door, staring at her.

Right, she had flouted his orders, but he had no right to give her orders in the first place. But that didn’t stop the cold sweat from rolling down her back.

“I told you to sit,” his voice deep, commanding, stirring something within her.

Anna thought of the few options she had. She could either jump down the railing and fall to her death, or she could have this conversation with him. The latter was incredibly tempting, though.

“I don’t answer to you, Leone.” Her lips quivered, her voice trembled, but she hoped it was enough to pass the information across.

He pushed himself away from the doorframe, taking daring steps toward her.

Each dull thud from each step he took made her heart ripple. She thought she could stand and face him head-on, but she couldn’t. Who was she kidding? Her feet moved on their own, taking steps backward till she felt her back hit a wall. She gasped.

He stood only an inch away from her, his hand violently hitting the wall beside her head, making her heart hitch.

He placed his other hand at the side of her waist as he looked down at her. Earlier, when he had helped her out of the car, she had noticed something untamed in his eyes, but now it seemed to have worsened, like all hell had broken loose, as his gaze nearly set her ablaze.

Anna clutched the sides of her gown, her heart beating too loud that she was sure he was hearing it too. She felt like a small rabbit being cornered by a lion. She felt small in his presence—she always did.

His larger frame covered her completely. All she could see, sense, and feel was him—his intoxicating scent, his dominating demeanor.

Her cute, plump lips parted. “You don’t own me, Leone,” she breathed, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. "I belong to Domenico" and although she said that, it wasn't Domenico she meant but Rocco.

His hand suddenly flew to her waist, the other held her shoulders down as his eyes stared deep into her, a dangerously darker shade. “Say it again.”