Uninvited
Sofia's POV
I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, glaring at Adrian like his presence alone had offended my entire bloodline.
“What are you doing here?”
Adrian didn’t answer right away. He gave me that smug, crooked smile that always danced on the edge of charming and irritating. Dressed like he’d just stepped out of a high-end fashion editorial, he strolled inside like I had invited him.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, glancing around the apartment like it amused him. “Figured I’d stop by.”
“Right. Because random drive-bys are your style now?” I shut the door behind him with a loud click. “You tracked me down.”
He shrugged, brushing imaginary lint from his coat. “You act like I haven’t done worse.”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t be here,” I snapped.
Adrian tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Relax, hermosa. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
He stepped closer, and my entire body went stiff. “You. Leandro. The little firestorm the two of you are playing with. It’s fascinating to watch, really.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You're not watching anything.”
“Come on, Sofia.” His voice lowered to that infuriating, seductive drawl. “You can’t possibly believe he’s a great option. You think Leandro Rossi loves anyone but himself?”
I laughed bitterly. “And you do?”
“I never claimed to.” He leaned closer. “But I’m honest about it. That’s more than I can say for him.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’m interested in anything you have to say.”
He took a seat on the arm of the couch, crossed his legs, and gave me a slow once-over. “You used to have better manners, Flores.”
“You probably used to have a soul,” I bit back.
Adrian smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Feisty. No wonder he’s obsessed.”
I crossed the room and grabbed my phone, thumbing through apps just so I wouldn’t throw it at his head. “Get to the point, Adrian.”
“There is no point. I just wanted to see you. Maybe get under your skin a little.”
“Well, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”
I looked up—and froze.
Because there was something off about his smile now. A flicker of something else beneath the surface. He wasn’t just here to annoy me.
“You didn’t just come here to be irritating,” I said slowly. “What’s the real reason?”
He stood, walked over, and paused a few inches from me.
His voice dropped. “He’s going to ruin you, Sofia. You don’t belong in his world.”
“I can handle myself.”
He chuckled softly. “Sure you can. Until the walls start closing in. Until someone uses you to get to him. You think he’ll protect you when it really matters?”
“He already has.”
He tilted his head. “Oh, sweet. So naive.”
I clenched my fists. “Say what you came to say and leave, Adrian.”
He stepped even closer. “Why are you so angry? Afraid you’ll like what you hear if you let me talk?”
That was it.
“I swear to God, if you don’t back off—”
BANG.
The front door slammed open so hard it echoed off the walls.
And there he was.
Leandro.
Dark eyes blazing. Shoulders tight. Jaw clenched like he’d chewed down bullets for breakfast. The tension in the air went from sharp to lethal in seconds.
“Rossi,” Adrian said, smirking like he’d just summoned the devil on purpose. “Took you long enough.”
Leandro didn’t speak.
He walked straight up to Adrian, didn’t break stride, didn’t hesitate, didn’t warn.
His fist shot out.
And it connected.
The sound of it—flesh and bone meeting in a brutal, echoing crack—snapped through the apartment like a thunderclap. Adrian reeled back, hitting the wall with a grunt, his lip split, blood trailing down his chin.
“Leandro!” I gasped, running forward instinctively.
But Leandro wasn’t done. His voice was low, fierce, shaking with rage.
“You’ve been asking for this for a long damn time,” he growled. “Now you’ve got it.”
Adrian wiped his mouth and laughed. “So this is how the great Rossi handles his problems now? With fists like a street rat?”
“You came here to provoke me,” Leandro snapped. “What, called me on your way over? Wanted to see if I’d take the bait?”
“You didn’t disappoint,” Adrian spat blood on the floor, smiling through the pain. “I should thank you.”
“I should’ve broken your jaw years ago.”
Adrian straightened slowly. “Big risk, Rossi. Even for you. A hit like that? In my world? Could cost you everything.”
Leandro’s voice dropped even lower. “Don’t care. You touched what’s mine.”
I froze.
That wasn’t metaphorical.
That was personal.
Leandro’s chest was rising and falling like a storm. He wasn’t just angry. He was unhinged in a way I hadn’t seen before. And yet, there was control—just enough not to kill Adrian where he stood.
I stepped between them, eyes wide. “Leandro, stop. He’s not worth it.”
He didn’t look at me at first. His eyes stayed locked on Adrian’s like they were two wolves mid-standoff.
Then slowly, finally, he looked down at me.
His jaw eased, just a fraction. “He shouldn’t have come here.”
“I know. But punching him—”
“He knew what he was doing. He wanted this.”
“Even if he did,” I said quietly, “he wins when you react like this. You said it yourself. He’s not worth your energy.”
Adrian gave a mock bow, blood staining his smirk. “The lady speaks sense.”
Leandro looked like he was two seconds from punching him again.
“Leave,” I told Adrian.
He looked at me, his smile flickering into something faintly bitter. “Don’t worry. I got what I came for.”
He turned, wiped his lip, and strolled to the door like he hadn’t just gotten laid out in someone else’s apartment.
Leandro stood rigid until the door shut behind him.
Silence filled the space again, thicker than before.
I turned to Leandro. “How did you know he was here?”
He looked at me like he didn’t want to answer. Then he admitted, “He sent me a picture. Of your door.”
My stomach dropped.
Leandro added, jaw tightening, “With the caption: ‘Guess where I am?’”
Jesus.
“So you drove here...”
“Ready to kill him,” he said simply. “And I don’t regret it.”
I exhaled. “That could’ve cost you everything.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
He stepped closer. “The only thing I care about right now is that he came here to get to me through you. That makes it personal.”
“I’m not a pawn.”
“I never said you were,” he said, voice low. “But you’re the one thing he knows he can use to twist the knife.”
I stared up at him, heart thudding. “Then don’t give him the satisfaction.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “But next time he pulls a stunt like this, I won’t stop at one hit.”
His hand brushed my cheek, and I realized he was still seething under the surface. For someone who controlled empires, the man was barely controlling himself.
I touched his wrist gently. “Next time, let me handle it. You don’t need to protect me like I’m fragile.”
His gaze softened—just a little. “It’s not about being fragile. It’s about what you mean to me.”
And then he leaned in, forehead resting against mine, voice a whisper.
“He doesn’t get to touch what’s mine.”
I didn’t answer.
Because a part of me liked hearing it.
And a part of me was terrified of what it meant.