Chapter 2: The Stranger in my care.

Leonardo's POV

It was already past ten p.m.

I sped down the deserted road. My mind was elsewhere, still reeling from the phone call with my steward. My little niece, who had bipolar disorder, had started with her unnecessary tantrums again.

Suddenly, a figure stumbled onto the road.

“Shit!” I slammed on the brakes, hitting my car horn.

A young woman, battered and bruised, crumpled on the ground.

I leapt out, rushing to her side.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, gently turning her over.

She was subconscious, her face pale. Her clothes and hair were dripping and she had injuries all over her body.

“Please, save me…” she muttered and clutched my arm in fear. She was light and fragile.

After scanning the environment for any signs of her pursuers, no one was in view.

I scooped her up, carried her to my car and laid her on the passenger seat.

*******

I pulled into my driveway, honking the horn. I carried her out from the back seat and headed for the door.

My steward, Roberto, emerged from the house.

"Welcome, Don." he said.

"This woman needs medical attention and prepare a room for her." I said, handing her over to Roberto.

He nodded.

"I'll take care of her, Don."

I left to check on Denise, my niece. Her mom, my sister, had died in a plane crash many years ago, leaving her in my care.

She was sleeping peacefully in her dimly lit room.

I pecked her forehead gently and closed the door behind me.

An hour later, Roberto reported that the doctor was here.

I stood behind my desk, arms crossed, as Dr. Martinez entered.

"The young woman's injuries are severe," Dr. Martinez began. "She has head trauma, possible concussion. We'll need to monitor her closely."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Prognosis?"

"Uncertain for now, Don," Dr. Martinez replied. "There is every possibility that she might loose her memory. We'll know more when she wakes up."

I nodded curtly.

"Keep me informed."

Dr. Martinez nodded and left.

I walked into the guest room where she lay, her fragile figure lying peacefully.

She had those delicate features, and a calm- looking face.

Even with her injuries, she was beautiful with thick blonde hair.

Around her neck, a velvet-black cord carried a pendant which had a circle with a dot signifying:

"The Omerta symbol; representing silence, loyalty and secrecy.” I said.

The pendant caught my attention. It was a notable Mafia symbol. Why would she wear it if she was a commoner?

I bent forward to touch it because it was a rare accessory. As I ran my fingers over the pendant, I could hear her soft breaths, watching her chest go up and down.

I shook my head and moved away for the strange woman. I can't be looking at her like this. She could be a spy.

*****

Two days passed, and the woman remained unconscious.

By nightfall, I went into the guest room, my gaze lingered on her soft lips, her long eyelashes.

She had no means of identification and I wondered if she would remember anything when she wakes up.

Doctor Martinez had said that she might wake up soon.

It was raining heavily this night and there were several flashes of lightening.

The air was chilled, and she lay shivering, her blankets needed adjustment.

As I reached for the covers, a thunderclap boomed.

Her eyes snapped open, filled with terror.

She screamed, bolting upright.

I grasped her shoulders by instinct, looking into her striking green eyes.

"Shh, you're safe," I said, my voice low.

She struggled, panicked but I held her still.

I tightened my grip, trying to calm her.

Her eyes locked onto mine, wild.

Gradually, her thrashing subsided. I touched her face and looked into her big, green eyes.

Soon enough, she slumped and dozed off again.

I expected her to release me. Instead, she burrowed into my chest, clinging to my jacket.

I didn't tolerate physical affection as much as I dislike being touched. But she clung, trembling, either from the cold or fear.

I hesitated. I tried to drop her back on the bed, but her hand still grasped my jacket, holding tight.

I froze.

“Please don't go.” She muttered with her eyes shut.

Her plea echoed through me and for once, I yielded. Her voice was so soft and calm, I couldn't resist it.

I gently laid down with my back on the bed and kept her head on my chest.

“When she falls back asleep, I can now leave.” I thought to myself.

But I drifted off, her grasp still tight on my jacket.

*******

Streaks of sunlight crept through the windows the next morning. I gently opened my eyes as I realized suddenly that I had slept on the same bed with her.

For the first time in a long time, I slept like a baby.

She stirred, her eyes snapping open.

She froze, taking in our entwined positions and panic set in.

She shoved me violently and kicked me out of the bed.

"Get off!" she yelled. "Pervert!"

Pervert? I groaned with annoyance.

“You're finally awake.” I recoiled, my expression neutral.

I rose from the floor, adjusting my rumpled clothes.

Her eyes blazed.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What did you do to me?"

“What sort of question is that? Never mind. Roberto will attend to your needs," I said curtly.

“Wait! Where am I? What am I doing here? And who the fuck are you?”

Our exchange was interrupted by a commotion outside.

My men burst in, responding to her outburst. Her loud voice must have caught their attention.

"Sir, is everything alright?” one of them began.

"Wait," I intervened. "Leave us.”

They hesitated, but obeyed my order.

"Get out," I commanded and the door closed behind them.

Her chest heaved with panic.

"Where am I?" she asked again.

"My estate," I replied.

"What happened to me?"

I studied her, cocking an eyebrow.

"You really don't recall?"

Her confusion deepened.

"I...I don't know. I only know that my name is Genna. My head hurts badly. How long have I been sleeping? How did I end up in your house?”

My expression remained neutral.

"Too many questions, Genna. Can you remember anything about your family? Anyone we can contact?" I said, folding my arms.

Her eyes widened.

"Yes, I have a brother, Clinton."

"Where is he?" I asked.

Genna's face fell.

"I...I don't know. We were supposed to…my head hurts. I just know that I have a brother.”

Her uncertainty was genuine.

"Send for Dr. Martinez," I instructed my men.

They nodded, departing promptly.

Dr. Martinez arrived shortly, examining Genna.

He said she had temporary amnesia which might last for hours, days or weeks even.

Dr. Martinez departed, leaving me to my thoughts.

I returned to my chambers, summoning my head of security.

"Keep watch on Genna," I ordered. "I want to know if she remembers anything."

"Noted, Don," he acknowledged.

"Also, discreetly investigate her background," I added. "Find out who she is, where she comes from. Find out if she has a brother, Clinton. Report back to me.”

My security chief nodded.

"Already on it, Don."

I dismissed him.

My door burst open. Only one person in this estate could come inside my room without knocking.

Denise burst into my room, a whirlwind of curly brown hair and energetic movement.

"Uncle Leo!" she chirped, ignoring her usual demand for attention.

I smiled warmly and opened my arms.

"Denise."

She ran into my embrace, hugging tightly.

"What brings you here, little one?" I asked.

"I wanna sleep over at Emma's!" she exclaimed.

I hesitated.

"Denise, we've discussed this. You know the rules. You can't go."

Her face contorted.

"But whyyyy? It's not faaaaair!" she shrieked.

Her voice escalated.

I recognized the warning signs. Denise's bipolar disorder made mood swings unpredictable. She could go from a sweet girl to a moody fellow in an instant.

"Denise, sweetie, calm down," I coaxed.

"No! No! No!" she yelled.

Tears streamed down her face.

She hurled her favorite doll at the floor.

"Stupid Uncle Leo! I hate you!"

Denise stormed out, slamming the door.