Chapter 158: Chapter 158 lazy
Leonardo pushed the door open with his shoulder, carefully carrying Bella into his room.
The lights were dim, the air inside quiet and warm. Everything smelled faintly of clean sheets, Musk, and a soft masculine scent that seemed to cling to him no matter where he went.
She was still clinging to his neck, her cheeks pressed against him, her breath warm on his skin.
With slow, steady steps, he walked toward the bed—his bed and gently lowered her down onto the mattress.
But as soon as her back touched the sheets, she sat up.
Her big, brown eyes blinked at him through sleepy lashes, still shining with tears. "I don’t want to be alone," she whispered, her voice fragile, like a child’s.
Leo stood still for a moment.
Then slowly, he crouched in front of her.
"You’re not alone," he said softly. "I’m right here."
Bella sniffled and looked down at her hands resting in her lap. Her fingers were trembling. The green silk of her dress shimmered in the low light, clinging to her frame like liquid moonlight.
"I ruined your night," she mumbled.
Leonardo reached out and gently took her hand in his. "You didn’t ruin anything."
Bella blinked again. "But I cried. I embarrassed you with my shameful past..."
He didn’t answer at first.
Instead, he looked at her hand in his—how delicate it was. How small. Then his eyes rose to meet hers, and his voice dropped lower, steadier.
"You didn’t embarrass me, Bella."
She looked up at him, eyes glossy and unsure.
He stood, pulled the blanket over her legs, and adjusted her pillow. But just as he moved to step away, her fingers caught his sleeve.
Her lip trembled. "Can you... stay here? Just for a little?"
His throat tightened.
He didn’t speak. He simply walked around the bed and sat on the edge beside her.
Bella slowly leaned against him, her head resting against his arm. "You’re warm," she whispered sleepily, as her hand gripped his shirt like she didn’t want him to disappear.
Leonardo stayed still for a long moment, just watching her eyes flutter closed.
He never thought this room—his room—would feel soft.
But tonight, with her in it, it did.
And as she finally drifted to sleep, still holding on to him, Leonardo leaned back against the headboard, one arm wrapped gently around her shoulders, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. For a long while, he didn’t move listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing, watching the slight flutter of her lashes. Her cheek rested against his arm, warm and delicate, and her fingers were still curled around the fabric of his shirt as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.
But then he noticed something.
She was fidgeting in her sleep.
A tiny shift of her legs. A quiet sigh. Her fingers twitching as though something was bothering her.
His eyes lowered.
That silky green dress... it looked stunning on her, but it wasn’t meant for sleeping. It clung to her awkwardly as she shifted, probably tight and scratchy now that her body was relaxing.
Leo let out a long sigh through his nose.
His first thought was: Should I send her to her own room?
But then he looked down at her again, curled up like a tired kitten, cheeks still puffy from crying, breathing soft and light.
No.
He was too lazy.
And she looked too peaceful to be disturbed.
He quietly got up from the bed and walked to his wardrobe, pulling out one of his black cotton shirts—soft, oversized, and probably long enough to be a nightdress on her.
He stared at it in his hand for a second... then picked up his phone.
A few seconds later, he called downstairs.
Within minutes, a maid gently knocked on the door.
When she stepped in and saw Bella sleeping in his bed, in that dress, and Leo handing her his shirt—even she hesitated.
Her eyes said it all: Sir... wouldn’t it be easier to send Ma’am to her own room?
But she didn’t dare ask.
Not when his expression looked like that.
Stone-cold, unreadable, with just the faintest flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes.
"Change her into this," he said, handing over the shirt. "And remove her makeup. Don’t wake her."
The maid bowed quickly. "Yes, sir."
Leonardo stepped out of the room and leaned on the hallway wall, running a hand through his hair.
He was too tired to think straight.
Too lazy to explain anything.
And too aware of the fact that for some reason, he didn’t want her to sleep in any room except his.
Not tonight.
While the maid gently helped Bella change into his shirt and removed the last traces of her makeup, Leonardo didn’t stay idle.
He quietly left the room, closed the door behind him, and walked through the hallway without a word. His expression was calm, almost too calm. But the storm inside him was rising slowly, dangerously.
He took the elevator down to the basement level of the estate.
But not the main one.
A secret one.
The private underground garage wasn’t for cars—it was for cleansing.
He unlocked the gate and walked in, past rows of reinforced doors and cold concrete. He didn’t stop until he reached the room at the very end.
It was dimly lit.
Echoes of dripping water and the sharp scent of iron filled the air.
Inside, tied to a steel chair with his wrists bleeding and mouth gagged, was the man Leonardo had been keeping for days.
Bella’s so-called uncle.
Leo stood there, silent for a moment, watching him breathe like a rat caught in a cage.
He had moved the pig from another basement to this one, just so he could torment him whenever he pleased.
His fingers flexed once, twice, and then slowly cracked his knuckles.
His voice was dangerously soft.
"You remember me?" he asked.
The man’s eyes widened with fear.
Leonardo walked closer, calm and precise, as he removed his watch and set it neatly on the table beside him.
"You should. I warned you," he said, voice low like thunder under velvet. "I told you if you ever made her cry again, you’d wish I only killed you."
The man tried to speak, but his words were muffled.
Leonardo removed the gag—not to be kind, but because he wanted to hear the begging. The choking.
The useless excuses.
"P-please, I didn’t mean—"
Before he could finish the sentence, Leo punched him—once. A clean, brutal hit to the jaw that cracked like lightning in the room.
"Don’t say her name," Leo growled. "Don’t even breathe while thinking of her."
He grabbed a pair of black gloves from the nearby shelf, slowly sliding them on.
The man was shaking, whimpering as he watched Leonardo reached for the drawer and pulled it open—neatly arranged inside were various tools, clean, sterile... and silent....