Tangled Sheets, Tangled Thoughts

Tangled Sheets, Tangled Thoughts
Sofia's POV

I woke up to the smell of him.

That musky, clean scent, faint smoke, and something warm that was just him, wrapped around the sheets tangled with my legs and clinging to my skin. His scent lived in the folds of his suits and the leather of his car, but this… this was different.

Intimate.

His arm was slung around my waist, his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek. Our legs were knotted together like they belonged that way. And for the first few seconds after my eyes fluttered open, I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

The room was still and dim, the curtains drawn halfway, letting in just a slice of silver light across the floor. It was quiet, peaceful. The only sound was the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing, slower now, deeper.

I tilted my face just enough to look at him.

His features were softened by sleep. Gone was the stern jawline, the guarded brows. In the silence of sleep, he looked almost… boyish. His lips were parted slightly, his lashes casting gentle shadows on his skin. He didn’t look like the Leandro everyone feared. He didn’t even look like the one I’d known a few months ago. He looked like someone else entirely. Someone… breakable.

And I couldn’t look away.

God… what have we done?

But the thought didn’t scare me. It didn’t bring regret. Only a quiet kind of awe. Like I’d stumbled into something deeper without meaning to, and now I was in too far to turn back.

“Are you watching me sleep?”

His voice was husky and thick with sleep, startling me. His eyes cracked open, one brow lifting as the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.

I blinked, caught. “No.”

He arched a brow, clearly not buying it.

“I was just… looking at you.” I dropped my head to his chest again. “There’s a difference.”

“You know, that’s what all the creeps say.”

I let out a small laugh and traced a lazy circle on his bare skin with my finger. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“Depends. You drool a little.”

He scoffed. “Lies.”

“I’m serious. It was… adorable.”

“You’re lucky I’m too satisfied to argue with you right now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair.

I closed my eyes for a second, just letting myself feel it. The heat of his body. The weight of the moment. It was new, unfamiliar. But it didn’t scare me. Not right now.

He slid a warm hand up my back, fingers spreading across my shoulder blades, holding me a little closer. Like I belonged there.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Breathed him in. Felt the steady beat of his heart against my ear.

It was strange how quiet it felt in my chest. No panic. No nerves. No what-ifs crowding in.

Just this.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low and close to my ear.

I nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

He kept drawing slow circles on my back. “This changes things.”

I didn’t respond right away. Because I knew it did. But I didn’t want to give it a name or define it. I just wanted to stay wrapped up in the warmth of his arms and pretend we were the kind of people who got to do this without consequences.

He shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I need you to be honest with me.”

My gaze lifted to meet his.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” I said without hesitation. “Do you?”

He shook his head. “Not even for a second.”

Something in me exhaled at that. Like I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until now.

We didn’t speak for a while. Just laid there. The sheets warm around us, the night calm and steady. I started to drift again, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the steady brush of his fingers against my skin.

But the moment shattered when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He cursed softly under his breath and reached for it. I could tell by the way his body tensed that it wasn’t good.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up slightly, still clutching the sheets to my chest.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, jaw clenched. “Aurelio.”

A chill crawled down my spine.

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Leandro replied, his voice cold now. “He just sent a picture.”

He turned the phone toward me.

My heart stopped.

It was me.

A photo of me walking into Ros’Notte. Hair pinned up. Eyes sharp. My black dress clinging to me. I knew exactly when that was, it was the night I’d come in for the waitress job.

The timestamp on the photo said it was taken months ago.

I swallowed hard. “What… what does this mean?”

Leandro didn’t speak at first. His eyes were still locked on the screen, face unreadable. But I could see the storm brewing behind them.

“It means,” he finally said, his voice like steel, “he’s not done with us.”

I pulled the sheet tighter around me, suddenly aware of how vulnerable we were, even here. Even wrapped in silence and shadows.

I looked at him, this man who had just made me feel more wanted than anyone ever had and for the first time, I saw the line between our world and his crack wide open.

And I had a sinking feeling that things were about to get much, much worse.