Chapter 185: Something Between the Lies

Chapter 185: Something Between the Lies
Leonardo

She let out a breath of laughter—louder this time—like it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard.

“That’s ridiculous, Leonardo,” she said, waving it off. “Why would I hide something from you?”

My chest tightened again.

I could think of a few reasons.

Hell, too many.

She’s lost interest.

She’s bored.

She wants out but doesn’t know how to say it.

She’s found someone else.

Someone safer.

Someone who isn’t covered in blood and bruises at midnight.

But I didn’t say any of that. I just echoed her words in a soft whisper, like maybe if I said them, they’d feel true.

“Yeah… why would you?”

Her voice snapped me out of it. “Now brace yourself,” she warned, holding up a small jar of whatever ointment she planned to rub on my ribs. “This is going to sting.”

I smirked, only half-present in the moment, watching her fuss with the cap. “I can take it.”

But my thoughts were racing.

Faster than any heartbeat I’d felt tonight.

And that was saying something.

Because I hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Not even during the fight earlier—where I’d cracked a man’s nose and left two others crawling through their own blood—even then, my mind hadn’t spiraled the way it was spiraling now.

She was acting normal.

Almost too normal.

Something about the way she flinched. The speed in her reply. The way her laugh seemed a little too loud. A little too placed.

Who was she texting?

Was it really just her friends?

Was I losing her?

I’d never been insecure in my life. I’d always known my worth. My presence. My power.

But with Aurora… it was different.

With Aurora, everything was different.

I stared at her while she gently applied the ointment, the way her fingers pressed against the bruise like she was trying to take away the ache with her touch alone.

I wanted to believe her.

I really, really did.

But that sinking feeling in my gut?

It wouldn’t go away.

And for the first time in years…

I didn’t feel like Leonardo D’Introno, the untouchable, unshakable mafia boss.

I felt like a man watching something slip through his fingers…

…and not knowing how to stop it.

Eleanora

“…And I’m telling you, there is no way pineapple belongs on pizza,” Aurora said with complete conviction, poking a fry into a tiny ramekin of aioli like it owed her money.

I raised a brow at her. “That’s a very bold claim for someone who ordered mango salad voluntarily.”

She gasped, mock-offended, and clutched her napkin like a drama queen in a Regency film. “Excuse me—mango and greens is a divine pairing. Pineapple and melted cheese? Crimes against humanity.”

I laughed, real and unfiltered.

We were seated in a little glass-covered garden restaurant tucked into the side of a boutique hotel. The kind of place that smelled like rosemary and vanilla-scented linen. Tiny fairy lights strung above us cast a soft golden glow, and the plates were all matte black with flowers folded into the napkins. Chic. Subtle. Intimate.

It had been like this the past few days.

Lunch here. A walk there. Coffee meetups that turned into three-hour conversations.

Aurora was… easy to be around.

Funny. Soft in ways that made you want to match her energy. And when she smiled too wide, her eyes scrunched up a little, like she didn’t even realize how warm she looked.

It was annoying.

Mostly because I had a plan.

And that smile of hers was starting to ruin it.

“I almost got caught last night,” she said casually, as she swirled the ice in her drink.

I blinked. “Caught?”

“Texting you,” she said, lowering her voice like we were sharing state secrets. “Leonardo came at an unexpected time, and I had to toss my phone under the pillow like some teenager hiding a secret boyfriend.”

A small smile played on my lips, but inside, something twisted.

He almost found out.

That wouldn’t have gone well.

I didn’t say it out loud, of course.

Instead, I leaned back against my seat, resting my elbow on the edge of the table as I tilted my head just slightly. “Why haven’t you told him, though?” I asked, keeping my tone light. “I mean… you know he’ll find out eventually.”

She didn’t look at me. Just played with her straw and shrugged a little. “I’ve told you this before, haven’t I?” Her voice was quiet now. “Leonardo’s going to overreact. You know how he is. One wrong move and he’ll shut this whole thing down. I don’t want that.”

I don’t want that.

I blinked slowly. That… hit differently.

She meant it.

She actually wanted this.

Not just curiosity. Not pity.

She wanted me in her life.

Even though she didn’t understand why I was suddenly acting like I deserved to be.

Even though she didn’t know the truth.

I let my eyes wander, past her face, past the delicate lights swaying above us, letting my thoughts drift to everything that had happened in the past week.

The first lunch.

The hesitant laughter.

The awkward honesty.

She didn’t know I’d planned it all.

That I’d chosen the restaurant.

That I had started working out my plan from the moment we met at the supermarket.

That I’d waited for an opportunity.

I didn’t expect it to work.

I didn’t expect her to work.

But somehow, Aurora had… softened me.

She didn’t know what I wanted. What I needed.

And God, the guilt was starting to claw at my throat every time I looked at her.

Because somewhere in between the fake small talk and real stories… something had shifted.

And now I didn’t know if I was playing her anymore.

Or playing myself.

“Nora?”

Her voice pulled me out of my head, and I looked up quickly to see her watching me. Concerned. Sweetly confused. She had switched from calling me Eleanora to Nora…

She said it was cute and Eleanora had way too much syllables.

“Sorry,” I said, straightening up and smoothing my expression. “Zoned out for a second.”

She smiled like she didn’t mind, but I could still feel her gaze tracing my face, trying to read something I didn’t want her to see.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… been a long day. Don’t worry, I’m still mentally here enough to argue about your offensive food takes.”

She laughed, and the tension bled out of her shoulders again.

But mine stayed tight.

Because I knew I was walking a line.

A thin one.

And she was too close to the edge of it without knowing how far down the fall would be.

I offered her another smile and picked up my fork.

Let her believe this was just a casual afternoon.

Let her believe we were growing closer.

Because maybe we were.

Maybe this was real now.