Chapter 5 Blood in the water 🌊

Chapter 5: Blood in the Water

Leonardo & Amira's POV

The Moretti estate looked peaceful under moonlight.

But peace was a lie Leonardo knew better than most.

He stood on the balcony of his private study, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, a half-finished glass of whisky in hand. Below, the guards changed shifts. Motion sensors blinked along the wrought-iron fence. Everything was in place.

And still-something was off.

His phone buzzed.

One name flashed on the screen: Vito Santoro.

Leonardo's jaw tightened.

Vito wasn't a man who called for pleasantries. The last time he rang, a judge ended up in the river with his mouth sewn shut.

"Talk," Leonardo answered.

"You married her," Vito said, no greeting. Just the quiet menace of a man smiling with a knife in his hand. "The Nigerian lawyer. The one who tried to bury your arms deal in court."

Leonardo didn't answer.

Vito chuckled, the sound oily and thick with threat.

"You've gone soft. Or crazy. Or both."

"She's mine," Leonardo said flatly.

"Then she's leverage." Vito's tone shifted-cool amusement sharpening into something lethal. "I wonder how long she'll stay loyal once she realizes what you're hiding."

Leonardo's silence was steel.

"I'm just saying, amico," Vito continued. "Accidents happen. Especially to women who don't belong in our world."

The call ended.

Leonardo stood motionless for a beat, every muscle locked. Then he hurled the glass at the wall. Crystal shattered against the bookshelf. Amber liquid sprayed across the hardwood floor like blood.

---

Amira jolted awake to the sound of breaking glass.

She sat up, heart pounding. The sheets beside her were cold. Typical. Leonardo didn't sleep. Not like a man should. Not like a man who didn't carry blood on his soul.

She slid out of bed and pulled on his robe-ridiculous, expensive, and far too big. It swallowed her frame, but it smelled of him: bergamot, cedar, and war.

She found him in the study, back turned, shoulders tense as steel cables.

"You're bleeding," she said softly.

He looked down at his hand. A thin slice marred his knuckle, still glistening.

"It's nothing."

"You threw something."

"It wasn't enough."

She stepped inside, hesitant. "Leonardo... what happened?"

He didn't turn to her. Just stared into the night, where shadows stretched long and quiet across the manicured lawn.

"Do you know what makes you dangerous, Amira?" he said, voice low. "You walk into fire thinking it won't burn you. You think this marriage makes you safe. It doesn't."

"Then why trap me in it?" she snapped, anger flaring hot.

"Because keeping you close is the only way to keep you alive."

The words hit like a slap.

She stiffened. "What aren't you telling me?"

Leonardo finally turned. His eyes were ice chipped from the ocean-cold, ancient, and dark with things she didn't want to understand.

"Vito Santoro knows about you. About us. He's watching. Maybe planning something."

She didn't know who Vito was, not fully. But the way Leonardo said his name made her skin crawl.

"He won't touch me," Leonardo continued. "But you? You're the crack in my armor. And he knows it."

Amira wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how thin the robe was. "So what now?"

"Now," he said, stepping forward, "you do exactly what I say. You don't question the guards I assign. You don't leave the estate. You don't even open a window without clearance."

She bristled. "So I'm a hostage again?"

"No," he said, pulling her closer, fingers firm around her waist. "You're my wife. And in my world, that makes you a target."

---

The next morning was silent.

Too silent.

Even the birds outside seemed to sense the tension coiling in the halls. The staff moved like shadows-quick, discreet, with eyes lowered.

Amira sat at the breakfast table, poking at her croissant like it had personally offended her. Leonardo was nowhere to be seen.

Her phone vibrated beside her.

Mummy Calling...

Her breath caught.

For a moment, she stared at the screen, hesitant. Then she swiped to answer.

"Mummy?"

"Amira." Her mother's voice was warm but sharp with worry. "We haven't heard from you. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm... fine," Amira lied. The word tasted like ash.

"You don't sound fine."

Amira closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "It's just... been a lot. Work. Life."

"You left in such a rush. Then the news broke about your marriage. We saw it online-some Italian businessman. Is this true?"

"Yes," Amira said softly. "It's true."

A pause. Then: "Did he force you?"

Amira's silence stretched.

"No," she whispered. "Not exactly."

Her mother exhaled sharply. "That doesn't sound like you. We raised you to be strong. Smart. You don't just marry a stranger, Amira. Especially one who's... connected."

"I didn't have a choice," she said, voice cracking. "It was this or watch my career-and yours-burn. He made it personal. He cornered me."

Her mother went quiet. Then, with the calm strength only mothers had, she said, "You are not powerless, my child. You never have been. Don't let him make you forget that."

Tears welled in Amira's eyes, but she blinked them back.

"Are you safe?" her mother asked, more quietly now.

A long pause.

"I don't know," Amira admitted.

More silence.

Then: "I'll keep praying for you. But remember, if you ever need to come home-really come home-we'll find a way. No matter what it costs."

Amira nodded, though her mother couldn't see her. "Thank you."

She hung up, hands trembling, the weight of two worlds crushing her chest. The life she left behind-full of courtrooms, laughter, and her father's quiet pride-felt a lifetime away.

And now she was here.

In this fortress.

Married to a man who could kill with a look and yet touched her like she was glass he didn't know how to hold.

The door creaked behind her.

Leonardo entered, dressed in dark slacks and a black shirt, sleeves rolled tight. His expression was unreadable.

"You spoke to your family," he said simply.

Amira didn't flinch. "Yes."

He walked to her, knelt slightly, and took her hand.

"You shouldn't have said too much."

"I didn't tell them anything dangerous."

"That's not the point," he said, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Vito is circling. Anyone you care about is a risk. Anyone who calls you might be traced."

"You think he'd hurt my family?"

"I think he'd burn down everything you love just to watch me bleed."

The air between them thickened. Not with heat. With the slow, creeping fog of war.

Amira stood, pulling her hand away. "Then maybe you should've left me out of your world."

Leonardo looked at her then-really looked at her. Not with lust or control. But something almost like regret.

"Too late for that."