Semua Bab the bodyguard's secret: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The champagne flute felt like ice in Leo Moretti’s hand, its delicate stem a fragile counterpoint to the iron band tightening around his chest. Below the dizzying height of the penthouse terrace, Manhattan glittered like spilled diamonds, a vibrant, chaotic world Leo observed from behind an invisible wall. Inside the soaring, minimalist space, polished to a blinding sheen, a hundred of the city’s elite swirled, their laughter sharp and bright as broken glass. Rossi Industries’ Annual Gala. His husband’s crowning achievement, meticulously curated, ruthlessly controlled.Like Leo himself.A large, warm hand settled possessively on the nape of his neck. Leo didn’t flinch; he’d learned stillness was safest. He turned, offering Dominic Rossi a smile perfected over four years of marriage. It felt brittle on his lips.“Darling,” Dominic murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Leo’s bones. Dominic was fifty to Leo’s twenty-eight, a man carved from power and expensive tailoring.

The ride back to the penthouse was a descent into a frozen hell. Silence, thick and suffocating, filled the armored SUV. Dominic sat beside Leo, radiating cold fury like a black hole, sucking all warmth and light from the space. He hadn’t spoken since snapping at Silas to “Get us home. Now.” Silas drove with unnerving focus, his eyes constantly scanning mirrors, his posture rigid. Leo sat pressed against the far door, the champagne flute’s ghostly chill still on his fingers, Silas’s fleeting touch a phantom brand on his skin. The spark felt like a betrayal now, a dangerous flicker in the face of Dominic’s icy rage.He replayed the scene at the gala: Henderson’s shocked face, the sickening *crack* of the slap, the scattered canapés like fallen stars, Silas’s impassive mask only betrayed by that infinitesimal tightening of his jaw. But Dominic’s eyes, landing on him afterward… that was the true terror. It hadn’t been directed at Henderson. It had been a warning, cold and sharp, aimed so

The silence of Leo’s locked bedroom was deafening. He sat on the edge of his ridiculously oversized bed, the compress Silas had given him now a lukewarm, soggy weight against his throbbing face. The physical pain was a constant drumbeat – the sharp ache of the split cheekbone, the dull throb radiating through his jaw and eye socket, the sting of his swollen lip. But it was dwarfed by the turmoil within.Dominic’s violence was a familiar horror, a dark current running beneath his life. But Silas… Silas was an earthquake. The memory of his touch – the shocking gentleness, the contained fury in his eyes, the rasp of his voice saying *Leo* – replayed on a loop, eclipsing even the terror of Dominic’s fist. That tender care, offered in defiance of everything, felt more dangerous, more world-shattering, than any blow.He hadn’t seen Dominic since the study door closed. The penthouse felt like a tomb, heavy with unspoken threats and the lingering scent of violence and expensive bourbon. Leo k

Silas didn’t let go. His grip on Leo’s arm remained firm, anchoring, as he guided him into the private elevator. The doors slid shut, enclosing them in a mirrored capsule that reflected Leo’s shattered form – tear-streaked, trembling, the facade of the perfect socialite utterly obliterated – and Silas’s grim, furious protectiveness. Leo kept his head down, unable to bear the sight of his own brokenness or the storm in Silas’s eyes. The silence was thick, vibrating with the echo of Leo’s sobs and the unspoken fury radiating from the man beside him.The elevator ascended. Leo leaned heavily against the cool wall, his legs threatening to buckle. Silas didn’t move away. His presence was a solid wall of heat and contained violence, a stark contrast to the icy void Dominic had left behind. Leo could feel the tension coiled in Silas’s body, the rigid set of his shoulders, the barely suppressed rage simmering beneath his skin. It wasn’t directed at him. It was a shield, a fortress erected aro

Leo didn’t sleep. He sat huddled on the floor, back pressed against his locked bedroom door, knees drawn to his chest. The plush carpet felt like sandpaper against his skin, every fiber hypersensitive, echoing the phantom imprint of Silas’s body against his. His lips still tingled, swollen and sensitized, a constant, treacherous reminder. The taste of Silas – warm, clean, uniquely masculine – lingered, a ghost haunting every breath. He traced the fading bruise on his cheekbone, the one Silas had tended with such fierce tenderness, and felt a fresh wave of dizzying contradiction. Dominic’s mark of ownership beside the invisible brand of Silas’s kiss – pain and solace intertwined.The fear was a living thing, coiled cold and heavy in his gut. Every creak of the penthouse settling, every distant hum of the HVAC system, sounded like Dominic’s approaching footsteps. He strained his ears, listening for the slam of the study door, the low rumble of Dominic’s voice. Silence. A silence that fe