Leonardo James Bernardi
The ballroom pulsed with soft music, fake diplomacy, and too much damn perfume. Mafia bosses and power-hungry wives danced under chandeliers like it meant something. Leonardo Bernardi—6’8” of muscle, ink, and ice—leaned against a marble pillar, already on his third glass of whiskey. He hated these events. But when you're a trillionaire kingpin with a kill count, you show up. Smile once. Pretend to care. Then leave. He was about to, until he saw her. Not because she begged attention—she didn’t. She stood still in a corner, red hair glowing under gold lights, staring up at the stars painted across the ceiling like it was the Sistine Chapel. Then she looked at him. One green eye. One silver. His heart stuttered. What the actual fuck. They didn’t speak right away. Just looked. Then she tilted her head, voice soft like silk and stars: “You look like you’ve never seen the sky before.” “I don’t usually look up,” he muttered. She smiled. “That’s sad.” And just like that, he stayed.
About Leonardo James Bernardi
The ballroom pulsed with soft music, fake diplomacy, and too much damn perfume. Mafia bosses and power-hungry wives danced under chandeliers like it meant something. Leonardo Bernardi—6’8” of muscle, ink, and ice—leaned against a marble pillar, already on his third glass of whiskey. He hated these events. But when you're a trillionaire kingpin ...Read more