Laurel P.O.V
The room was quiet in the way dangerous places always were.
Not peaceful,but watchful.
Richardo sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his back to me. Fresh bruises bloomed across his skin like dark signatures of violence,proof that whatever chaos I had the night before had been real. Very real.
The lamp cast shadows over him.He was shirtless, and I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice how pain clung to him like a second skin.
I dipped the cloth into the bowl and pressed the cloth gently against a cut along his shoulder.
He didn't flinch.
That alone told me something dangerous about him.
"You should've gone to a doctor" I murmured, my voice became quieter than the room deserved.
"A doctor asks questions" Richardo replied calmly. "You don't"
I swallowed.
That wasn't comfort. That was truth.
I dipped the cloth into the bowl again.
"You're bleeding through" I said softly.
"I've bled worse" He replied.
That wasn't pride. It was fact.
I pressed the cloth to his side, careful, slow. He inhaled sharply,not from pain, but from restraint. My fingers trembled despite myself.
This man terrified the city.
Yet here he was, letting me tend to him like I mattered.
I felt safe.
That realization frightened me more than the guns had.
The phone vibrated.
Richardo glanced at the screen,his jaw tightening before he answered.
"Acadia"
The name struck something cold inside me.
I stayed silent, focusing on the cut across his ribs, but every word he spoke drew me in.
"She came" Richardo said.
There was a pause.
"She asked for help"
Another pause, longer.
"No" He said calmly, though something dangerous moved beneath his tone. "You didn't do enough to stop her"
I froze.
His tone was controlled,too controlled. Like violence carefully locked behind glass. "And?"
"She suspects nothing" I heard Acadia's reply through the phone. "Katy believes I'm firmly on your side"
Another pause.
"I don't care if she's angry" He continued. "She's useless to me"
My hand stilled.
What!
Was he talking about Katy?
My chest tightened.
I hadn't known I was holding my breath until Richardo spoke again.
"She wants the truth" He continued. "Killing her father wasn't enough to tell her to keep those fucking mouth shut. She needs to know her limit"
His gaze flicked to the wall, unfocused as if he was seeing something far away.
"I don't care if she wants justice" Richardo said. "There are lines she shouldn't cross"
Acadia's voice crackled faintly through the phone—sharp, defensive.
Richardo let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"You always hide behind that word" He said. "Justice. As if blood forgets names once paperwork is signed"
I swallowed hard and kept working, my hands were gentler now.
"She asked you for justice" Richardo went on. "And you gave her indifference"
Silence took over.
Then his voice dropped.
"You told her her father deserved it"
My breath caught.
The air shifted. I could feel it.
"That was unnecessary" Richardo said. "And you know it" He stood abruptly and I stumbled back a step, startled. He paced once like he felt no pain,his fury was controlled with terrifying precision.
"You refused to help because helping her would expose him" Richardo said. "Say it"
A pause suddenly chimed in.
His eyes hardened.
"So you chose your career over the truth" He stopped pacing. "And now she's alone"
I felt something twist inside me,something sharp and aching.
"You think this doesn't affect me?" Richardo continued. "My protection is already cracking. If Katy keeps digging, the Dons will notice. And when they do—"
He stopped himself and exhaled slowly.
"—she becomes a liability."
My hands stilled.
Liability.
Just like me.
"You don't get to decide who deserves help" Richardo said quietly. "And you don't get to decide who gets crushed to keep your hands clean"
He listened again.
Then turned cold.
"If she gets hurt, Acadia. I won't ask who pulled the trigger. I'll ask who stood aside"
The call ended.
The silence afterward was louder than the conversation.
Richardo leaned back against the dresser,his eyes closed briefly as if the weight of everything finally pressed down.
I stepped closer without thinking.
"You care" I said softly.
His eyes opened.
I looked up at him.
Really looked.
At the man who scared entire rooms into obedience.
At the man who had bled for me.
At the man who just threatened a war…without raising his voice.
"About who exactly?" He asked.
"About people" I said.
He studied me like I was a puzzle he hadn't planned to solve.
"Caring is a weakness" He said. "The Dons smell it from miles away"
"And yet" I whispered, "you keep choosing it"
I finished wrapping the bandage, my fingers brushing his skin for a second longer than necessary. He didn't move away.
Didn't tell me to stop.
"Should I be afraid of you?" I asked.
His gaze softened,just a fraction.
"Yes" He said honestly. "But not tonight"
My heart betrayed me then, beating faster, louder, reckless.
I realized something terrifying in that moment.
I trusted him.
Not because he was good.
But because he was honest about being dangerous.
And somehow…that felt safer than the lies everyone else told.
------
(FLASHBACK)
I didn't go to his room willingly.
Not at first.
A knock had come,firm and unquestionable, followed by a voice that didn't ask.
"Miss Laurel.Master has arrived and he needs your attention" One of the maids informed me and left.
Needs.
Why does he need me?
That word followed me down the corridor like a chain. The house was quieter then, the kind of silence that sat heavy on the chest. When the room door opened, I smelled antiseptic, metal and something darker, danger clinging to the air like smoke.
Richardo was seated on the edge of the bed.
Waiting.
The lamp behind him cut his figure in half, light and shadow warring over his body. His jacket was gone. His shirt was already unbuttoned, stained, discarded carelessly like the night hadn't mattered.
"Come closer" He said.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
I stepped in.
"Sit"
The word hit harder than a command,it was an expectation. I hesitated only a second before sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, my knees brushing his thigh. I told myself it was because he had saved me. Because I owed him my life.
But my heartbeat betrayed me.
He was close. Too close. I could feel the heat of him, solid and unyielding. This was a man built for control—broad shoulders, scarred skin, the quiet confidence of someone who had never had to ask twice.
"Don't shake" He murmured.
"I'm not" I lied.
His lips curved faintly as if he found the lie amusing.
"Your hands are" He said. "But I don't mind"
I looked around his room as I reached for the medical kit, trying to steady myself,a bowl of warm water was already positioned right next to him.
The walls were dark, decorated with abstract art that looked violent if stared at too long. No family photos. No softness. Everything in the room spoke of power and privacy—nothing accidental, nothing warm.
Just like him.
"You should lie down" I said quietly. "Your injuries—"
"Sit" He repeated, slower this time.
I obeyed.
The mattress dipped under his weight as he shifted closer, close enough that my shoulder brushed his chest. My breath hitched before I could stop it.
"You're safe here" He said.
The words startled me.
Safe.
With him?
"I don't think—" I began.
"Shh"
One finger lifted, hovering dangerously close to my lips without touching them.
"In my world" He said softly, "people talk too much when they're afraid. Silence keeps you alive"
I swallowed.
"I was attacked last night" I said anyway, the words spilling out despite myself. "Someone tried to—"
"I know" He cut in calmly.
I froze.
His voice lowered, darker now.
"And you're still breathing. That's all that matters"
I looked at him, confused, a little shaken. "You don't want to know how I feel about it?"
His gaze locked onto mine.
"Feelings" He said, "are luxuries for people who don't rule bloodstained streets"
Then softer, almost intimate.
"But if it comforts you…no one touches what's under my protection"
My pulse spiked.
Was that a threat?
Or a promise?
I pressed the cloth to his wound, my fingers brushing his skin. He didn't flinch. Didn't look away. His eyes stayed on me, dark and unreadable.
"You're doing well" He said. "Calm hands. That's rare"
"I don't usually—" I stopped myself.
"Care?" He finished for me.
I nodded.
His lips curved again, dangerous and slow.
"You'll learn" He said. "This life teaches you what matters"
I exhaled a shaky breath, trying to lighten the air without thinking. "Well…I guess even mafia bosses need nurses sometimes"
The words slipped out before I could catch them.
The room changed instantly.
The faint amusement vanished from his face, replaced by something colder,the reminder was sharp and absolute. His posture straightened, the softness faded like it had never existed.
"Mafia boss" He repeated flatly.
I felt stupid immediately.
His eyes flicked away, jaw tightening as if he'd nearly forgotten himself.
"Don't forget who you're sitting next to, Laurel Mondaris"
The way he said my name made my chest ache.
"I saved you" He continued. "But don't mistake that for mercy. Or weakness"
Silence stretched between us.
Then quieter and restrained
"Finish dressing the wound"
I nodded quickly and did as told, my heart still racing, not from fear alone anymore.
Because somewhere between obedience and danger…
I had begun to feel comfortable beside him.
And that realisation scared me more than anything that had happened the night before.