Chapter 19

**Hannah**

In one photo, he stood on a balcony overlooking some European city, the sunset casting golden light across his sharp features. The caption read simply: "Milan. Business concluded successfully."

I snorted. "Yeah, I bet it was."

Another showed him in casual attire, wearing designer jeans and a simple black V-neck highlighting his broad shoulders and muscular chest. He was leaning against a Ferrari, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking like sex on legs. The comment section was flooded with thirsty remarks from women and men alike.

I couldn't blame them. Even through a screen, his presence was magnetic.

Curious now, I exited Instagram and opened Google, typing his name into the search bar.

The results loaded instantly. Leonardo Salvatore, CEO. Articles from Forbes and Business Insider praising his "innovative approach" and "ruthless business acumen." A feature in GQ about his watch collection. His relationship status was consistently listed as single on every society page mentioned.

Nothing about organized crime. Nothing about violence or murder or any of the things I'd witnessed firsthand.

"This is surreal," I whispered, clicking through to a video of him accepting some business award.

On-screen, Leonardo gave a brief, charming acceptance speech. His voice was just as commanding through my phone speakers as it had been whispering filthy things in my ear last night. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the memory.

"Leonardo Salvatore, businessman by day, killer by night," I murmured.

A knock at the door made me jump so violently that I nearly dropped my phone.

"Room service," called a cheerful voice.

I scrambled off the bed, smoothing down my wrinkled dress and running a hand through my still-damp hair before opening the door.

A young man in a crisp hotel uniform stood there with a covered tray. "Good morning, Ms. Mitchell. Your breakfast."

"Thank you," I said, stepping aside to let him in.

He wheeled the cart into the room and lifted the silver dome covers with a flourish. "Scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, pancakes with maple syrup, fresh fruit, and black coffee. Will there be anything else, ma'am?"

The spread looked amazing, steam rising from the perfectly cooked eggs and the stack of fluffy pancakes. My stomach growled audibly.

"No, this is perfect, thank you," I said, reaching for my purse to tip him before remembering it wasn't my room. "Um, do I sign something?"

"No need, ma'am." He gave a small bow and headed for the door. "Enjoy your breakfast."

As soon as he left, I pounced on the food like a starving animal. The first bite of pancake made me moan out loud; it was perfectly fluffy, soaked in real maple syrup. The eggs were creamy and cheesy, the bacon crisp but not burned.

"Holy shit," I mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Even the breakfast is sexy."

I carried my coffee to the window and pulled back the curtains. The view was spectacular, with the city spread out below and morning sunlight glinting off glass skyscrapers. From this high up, everything looked small and far away, like a different world entirely.

Which, I supposed, it was. Leonardo's world. A world of luxury suites, room service, breakfast, and casual murder.

I took a sip of my coffee and sighed contentedly. Whatever moral crisis I should be having could wait until after I finished this amazing breakfast. I returned to the cart and continued eating, scrolling through Leonardo's social media with my free hand.

There was a photo of him at some gala, arm around a stunning blonde woman in a red dress. The caption identified her as "Sophia Laurent, VP of European Operations." I felt an unexpected pang of jealousy.

"Get it together, Hannah," I muttered to myself. "You're his sugar baby, not his girlfriend. He probably has women in every city."

Still, I couldn't help wondering how many of those women knew what he really did for a living. How many had seen the side of him, I'd glimpsed last night?

I was halfway through my eggs when I heard the electronic beep of the hotel room door unlocking. My heart leaped into my throat as Leonardo strode in, looking fresh and impossibly handsome in another perfectly tailored suit. This one was navy blue, paired with a light blue shirt open at the collar.

He spotted me at the breakfast cart, and his lips curved into a smile that made my insides liquify.

"Good morning, Hannah," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. "I see you're enjoying breakfast."

I swallowed my mouthful of food, suddenly self-conscious about being caught stuffing my face. "Good morning, Daddy. Yes, it's delicious."

His eyes darkened slightly at the word "Daddy," and I felt a rush of heat between my legs. How did he do that? Make me wet with just a look?

He crossed the room in a few long strides and bent down to kiss me. It was a possessive kiss, his tongue immediately seeking entrance to my mouth. I opened for him willingly, tasting coffee and mint on his breath.

When he pulled back, his eyes were hungry. "You taste sweet."

"Maple syrup," I explained breathlessly. "From the pancakes."

"Mmm." He ran his thumb across my bottom lip. "I think I need a taste of that sweetness myself."

Before I could respond, he was kissing me again, deeper this time, one hand tangling in my hair while the other slid down to cup my ass through my dress. He squeezed hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked when we broke apart, both breathing heavily.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, the name feeling more natural on my tongue now. "The bed is amazing."

"And how are you feeling? Not too sore, I hope?" His eyes glinted with masculine pride.

I blushed, remembering how thoroughly he'd used my body last night. "A little. But in a good way."

He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he traced a finger along my jawline. "Good. I wouldn't want to break my new toy so soon."

I should have been offended at being called a toy, but instead, a delicious shiver ran down my spine. What was happening to me?

"Finish your breakfast," he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before moving away. "I have plans for us today."

I returned to my food, suddenly ravenous again. "What kind of plans?"

He shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it carefully over a chair before rolling up his sleeves. Even this simple action was mesmerizing. I stared at his forearms, remembering how those strong arms had pinned me down last night.

"The kind that requires you to be properly fed and energized," he replied with a wink.

I stuffed another forkful of eggs into my mouth, watching as he moved to the suite's kitchen area. He opened cabinets with the confidence of someone who'd stayed here many times before, pulling out a French press and a bag of coffee beans.

"You're making coffee?" I asked, surprised. "I thought billionaires just snapped their fingers, and servants appeared with whatever they wanted."

"I'm perfectly capable of making my own coffee. Some things are too important to delegate."

I watched, fascinated, as he ground the beans in a grinder, his movements precise and efficient. There was something incredibly sexy about watching this powerful man perform such a mundane task. The muscles in his back flexed beneath his shirt as he poured hot water over the grounds.