Chapter 184: Tell Me You’re Still Mine.
Chapter 184: Tell Me You’re Still Mine.
Leonardo
My gaze flicked, just briefly, to where her phone still lay face down on the bed. The screen was dark now, but the way she dropped it… too fast, too abrupt. Like it had something to hide.
My jaw tightened for a second before I pulled it back.
Maybe I was just reading too much into it.
She came to me, arms halfway out like she was about to wrap them around me, but I stopped her with a soft question, keeping my voice casual even though something in my gut still tugged.
“Why’d you flinch like that just now?”
But still… knowing why she flinched wouldn’t hurt?
She let out a breathy laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You scared me, that’s all,” she said quickly, waving a hand. “You came in so quietly, and I just expected to hear your voice or something. My brain just jumped. That’s all.”
That’s all.
But something still felt… off.
Before I could press further, she tilted her head, her eyes scanning me more fully now, and her expression shifted.
Worried. A little disappointed.
And somehow still soft.
“How was work?” she asked, even though I knew that wasn’t what she really wanted to know. Her gaze dragged slowly across the faint smear of blood on my collar, then down to the bruise darkening beneath my jaw. She frowned.
“You got into a fight again, didn’t you?”
I hesitated.
Just a beat.
Then I let out a slow sigh and glanced down at my shoulder where my shirt was sticking slightly from dried blood. “It wasn’t supposed to get messy,” I muttered. “He pushed the wrong buttons.”
There was a flicker of guilt in my voice that I didn’t even bother hiding. Not because I wasn’t proud of what I had done or anything…but because I had promised Aurora I wouldn’t be part of the killings again and I’d just let my men do it.
But I just had to do this myself.
I couldn’t let it slide.
She didn’t scold me, however.
Didn’t even say anything at first.
Just reached for my hand, fingers light against mine, and guided me gently toward the bed.
“Come here.”
I followed without protest.
She eased me down to sit, then moved in front of me, her hands already going to the buttons on my shirt. Her touch was careful—delicate, even—but there was something firm behind it. A quiet kind of care that didn’t ask for permission.
As she peeled the fabric back, I watched her face shift again. Her brows creased. Her mouth tightened into that same almost-frown she wore when I forgot to eat or came home too late.
She traced a fingertip gently over one of the deeper bruises near my ribs, and I winced slightly.
She didn’t say I told you so.
But she didn’t need to.
“I swear,” I said under my breath, voice low and dry, “it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine.
One brow raised.
And that alone said everything.
I huffed quietly, more amused than annoyed. “Okay. Maybe it’s a little bad.”
She didn’t smile.
Not yet.
But her hands moved again—slower now—easing the shirt fully off my shoulders, and for the first time all night, my pulse started to settle.
The room was quiet, the kind of stillness you only got this late at night when the world had mostly shut down.
And even though my body ached and my thoughts were still caught on that flinch from earlier…
This—her—was the only thing anchoring me.
For now.
Aurora was still wearing that tight little frown as she cleaned the last of the blood from my jaw, her expression somewhere between nurse and executioner. She held the cotton pad with just enough pressure to make me wince, and even then, her eyes didn’t soften.
“What’s with the face?” I asked, voice low, teasing.
She didn’t answer. Just shot me a glare from beneath those thick lashes before turning her attention back to the bruised cut on my collarbone.
That only made me grin.
Softly, I chuckled, barely audible under my breath.
She paused. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I said, reaching up to tuck a strand of her beautiful red hair behind her ear. My fingers brushed her cheek. Warm. Slightly flushed. “You’re just cute when you’re angry.”
Aurora rolled her eyes, turning her face away quickly. “Now’s not the time, Leonardo.”
I almost replied—I had something cocky and sultry lined up—but then her phone buzzed.
Three times.
Quick, one after the other.
Her body stilled.
So did mine.
My eyes darted toward the screen just as it lit up with the notification. I didn’t even see the name—just the placement, the way her hand moved fast to cover it, the way her shoulders stiffened. A second too long.
“You’re texting someone?” I asked, keeping my tone light even though the question sat heavy in my chest.
Aurora hesitated. Just a breath.
Then—“Yeah.”
“Who?” My brows furrowed, the sharp edge of suspicion slicing through me before I could push it away.
“The girls,” she answered quickly, too quickly.
I nodded once, slowly.
“Oh.” I reached for her phone, casual-like, like it didn’t mean anything—because it didn’t. “Let me say hi to them, then. So they know I’m back and leave you alone. I want you all to myself tonight.”
My fingers were a few inches from the screen when her hand came down—fast, almost like a slap.
“No.”
Sharp.
Clipped.
And too loud.
She blinked, startled by her own reaction, then cleared her throat and softened her tone. “I mean—don’t say anything to them. They’ll tease me for life if you do that.”
She tried to laugh, tossed her phone onto the other side of the bed before slipping it under her pillow like it was no big deal.
But my chest tightened anyway.
Something didn’t feel right.
I tilted my head slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Her eyes snapped back to mine. “Huh?”
“You know,” I shrugged, half-hearted, “besides the fighting… even though you made me promise not to.”
Her brows furrowed at that, lips curving in a short, confused smile. “No. Why would you even ask that?”
I studied her face. The curve of her brows. The calm tilt of her head. She looked honest.
She looked like the Aurora I knew.
But I couldn’t shake the itch in my chest.
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I just feel like you’re hiding something from me.”