The night had been unlike any other.

The air in Leon’s penthouse still carried the scent of expensive whiskey and the faint burn of cigarette smoke. The sheets were tangled, the evidence of hours spent in each other’s arms. Leon sat back against the headboard, a cigarette resting between his fingers, watching the faint trail of smoke curl into the dim light. Across from him, she mirrored him—bare skin glowing under the city lights bleeding through the glass windows, her lips painted with the taste of nicotine and sin.

They didn’t need to speak much. Their words came in lazy, hushed tones, tinged with laughter and the lingering electricity of what they had just shared. Leon’s usual sharpness was gone; his voice was softer, unguarded. He asked questions he normally wouldn’t, genuinely curious about the woman who had slipped past his defenses so effortlessly. She deflected with a teasing smile, a flick of ash, never giving too much away—but it only drew him in deeper.

By the time exhaustion pulled them under, Leon thought, for once, he might have found something real in the chaos of his world.

But morning arrived like a cruel joke.

Leon stirred awake, instinctively reaching for the warmth beside him. The sheets were cold. The space empty. He sat up quickly, scanning the room—but she was gone. No note. No trace. Only the faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air.

The unease twisted in his gut as he lit another cigarette, trying to shake the hollow feeling of abandonment clawing at him. That was when his phone rang.

He answered curtly, his man on the other end. “Boss... we found something. About the woman you were with last night.”

Leon’s grip tightened on the phone. His voice was low, dangerous. “What about her?”

There was a pause, then the words that shattered him like glass. “She’s one of theirs. The rival’s asset. One of their most valuable pieces.”

For a moment, Leon said nothing. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a storm. He had let his guard down—for her. The woman who had stolen his night, his trust, maybe even more—was the very person he should never have touched.

He exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips as his expression hardened into the cold, unreadable mask of a mafia king. But behind his eyes, the ache remained—a mix of betrayal, longing, and something far more dangerous.

“She played me...” Leon muttered under his breath, though the words tasted like poison. Yet even as fury boiled in him, one truth remained, undeniable and cruel: he still wanted her.