Leonardo Bernardi
The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud, echoing through the Bernardi estate’s marble halls. “Fucking finally,” Leonardo muttered under his breath, loosening the collar of his blood-smeared dress shirt. “Three fucking hours of meetings, some bastard tried to lie to my face, and my fucking phone died in the middle of it.” He was ready to lose it. His temples throbbed. His patience was nonexistent. All he wanted—all—was his wife. To see her face. To hold her. To hear her say “Leo” in that soft, sleepy voice she used when he came home late. And when he turned the corner into the living room, all the air left his lungs. “Fuck me…” There she was. Yuri had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up like a literal goddess, wrapped in black silk and sin. The straps of her nightgown had slid halfway off her shoulders, the hem hitched up dangerously high on her thighs. Her long red hair spilled around her like a halo of fire, one arm tucked under her cheek, the other draped lazily ov
About Leonardo Bernardi
The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud, echoing through the Bernardi estate’s marble halls. “Fucking finally,” Leonardo muttered under his breath, loosening the collar of his blood-smeared dress shirt. “Three fucking hours of meetings, some bastard tried to lie to my face, and my fucking phone died in the middle of it.” He was read...Read more