GIRLHOOD AND GUNS
The estate didn't look like a prison in daylight.
That was the dangerous part.
Leona sat on the sun warmed veranda, a pitcher of wine between her and the only person who still knew how to make her laugh without flinching.
Tessa Langley.
Long legs. Sharp tongue. Blue nails. And a voice like every rule she ever broke.
"I swear to God," Tessa said, sipping her wine, "if you tell me you haven't banged your mafia husband by now.. "
Leona laughed for real, finally.
"Does it count if I dreamt about it once and woke up angry?"
Tessa grinned. "Depends. Was it a nightmare or a fantasy?"
"Both."
They clinked glasses.
A beat passed. The wind carried birdsong. Somewhere in the distance, guards paced like shadows on the glass.
Then Tessa's tone shifted.
Softened.
"So what's going on, really?"
Leona hesitated.
Then against every instinct she told her.
About the cameras.
The locked doors.
The lipstick X on Lucien's photo.
The man in the garden.
And finally, the envelope.
Tessa went quiet for a long moment.
Then said, "You've been living in a movie. A slow-burn, enemies to lovers, body count kind of movie."
Leona leaned back. "It's not romantic."
Tessa gave her a look. "You made risotto for the man who might've ordered a hit on your brother. That's domestic."
Another pause.
Then..
"I'm going to that reunion, by the way," Tessa said.
Leona blinked. "What reunion?"
"College. Next Friday. Everyone's going."
"Oh God."
"Oh yes." Tessa leaned in, conspiratorial. "And guess who's going to be there?"
Leona narrowed her eyes.
Tessa grinned. "Damon Cross."
Her breath caught.
The name hadn't crossed her lips in years.
Her old crush.
The one who used to write poetry on napkins and whisper sins behind her ear at parties.
Leona laughed soft, startled.
"I thought he moved to Spain."
"He did. But he's back. And single."
A beat.
Tessa's voice lowered.
"You should come. Just for a night. Remember who you were before all of… this."
Leona didn't answer.
Not yet.
But her pulse had already given itself away.
Tessa was gone before sunset.
But her perfume still lingered on the cushions, and her voice still echoed in Leona's head.
You should come.
You should remember who you were.
Leona stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding up dress after dress. None of them looked like her. Not the real her. Not the one who used to dance barefoot in bars and kiss strangers who made her feel seen.
But one dress, the dark navy one with the slit looked like someone she wanted to become again.
She left it hanging.
On purpose.
Later that night, the house dimmed. The lights along the hallway glowed like embers. And Lucien came through the front door, coat slung over his shoulder, jaw set.
Heading toward his room.
Leona stepped into the corridor from the shadows.
"I'm going to my parents' next weekend," she said.
He didn't stop walking.
Didn't slow.
Didn't say a word.
Just disappeared into his room like her voice hadn't even touched him.
Leona stood there, throat tight.
And realized something worse than hate or anger.
He didn't care.
—
The next morning, she found him already in the dining room.
Dark suit. Black coffee. No appetite.
She entered without announcement.
No makeup. Just bare eyes and the envelope in her hand.
She placed it beside his plate.
He didn't look at her.
She didn't leave.
"That woman yesterday, Alessia, she gave it to me."
No answer.
She sat down across from him.
"It has your brother's name on it. Rafael. You never mentioned him."
Still nothing.
"I thought maybe you'd want to open it. Or at least explain what the hell... "
"I have a meeting," he said quietly, standing.
She blinked.
"Did you hear anything I just said?"
He looked at her then.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Just… exhausted.
"Yes," he said. "That's the problem."
And then he left.
This time, she didn't follow.
But her fingers itched.
Because that envelope was still sealed.
And she hadn't opened it either.
Yet.
The car dropped her off at 8:13 p.m.
Downtown. Just off the plaza.
A rooftop bar she'd been to once in college before her name became currency, before her ring weighed more than gold.
She stepped out in the navy dress.
Slit high.
Neckline clean.
Hair swept back with a single pin.
She looked like a woman who hadn't buried secrets in silk sheets.
But her eyes told the truth.
Inside, the reunion buzzed with champagne and stories too polished to be true.
Everyone was older.
Smoother.
Except her.
She felt like a blade among spoons.
And then
She saw him.
Damon Cross.
Still tall. Still lean. Still carrying that lazy grin like it wasn't a weapon.
His eyes found her across the room.
And widened.
"Leona De Luca?" he called.
She smiled.
And it wasn't fake.
"Damon Cross."
He hugged her. Easy. Familiar. No cameras. No guards.
"You look…" he started.
She raised a brow. "Be careful."
"…like trouble," he finished.
She laughed.
God, it had been so long since she laughed like that.
They got drinks.
Talked about nothing.
She let herself pretend.
Just for a few minutes.
That she wasn't married.
That there weren't files with her name on them.
That she wasn't trying to decode the man she shared a house with.
That she wasn't hoping he'd be angry she left.
That he wasn't probably already watching.
Because she knew Lucien.
And if he hadn't read that envelope yet
He'd read her absence.
---
They sat at the far corner of the rooftop.
The music was low, the wind warm, the skyline soft with light pollution.
Leona sipped her drink slower now. Not because she was nervous.
Because she didn't want the night to end too fast.
Damon leaned back in his chair, collar open, eyes tracking her like he was trying to catch something behind her words.
"So," he said, "rumor is you disappeared."
She smiled faintly. "I did."
"New name?"
"Same name. New… attachments."
He nodded. Didn't ask. But she saw the glint in his eyes.
He knew she was married.
The ring was gone tonight. Hidden.
But her silence spoke volumes.
"I almost called you once," he said, voice quieter now. "Last year."
Her heart ticked.
"Why didn't you?"
"You left before I could."
They stared at each other.
The air changed.
He reached out casually and touched her hand.
Not a grab. Not a gesture.
Just his fingertips against hers.
And for one stupid, human second
She didn't move.
"You used to draw stars on your thigh when you were nervous," he said, smiling softly.
Leona blinked.
"I forgot that."
"I didn't."
She pulled her hand back. Gently. Deliberate.
"I'm not nervous," she said.
"You're not the same."
She looked at him.
Eyes darker now.
"No. I'm not."
He leaned forward.
"Who is he?"
Her throat tightened.
She didn't answer.
Damon exhaled. "Does he make you happy?"
That one made her flinch.
And that was all the answer he needed.
"I never stopped thinking about you, Leo."
She stood.
Fast.
Not angry.
Just… full.
Too full.
"Don't," she said.
He didn't follow.
He just sat there, watching her walk away.
And when she reached the edge of the balcony, breath catching
She felt it.
---
The rooftop emptied out slowly.
But Leona stayed.
And so did Damon.
They moved from high chairs to a velvet booth near the back.
Her shoes were off.
His jacket draped over her shoulders.
They were still talking.
Still laughing.
He leaned closer now not a secret, not even a whisper. Just proximity.
Like he couldn't help it.
She felt it.
Felt him.
The air between them charged not tense. Just waiting.
Then
He said it.
"I should've stopped you that night. The one before you left."
Leona looked up.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I thought you were chasing something better."
A beat.
Then he added, softer:
"Was I wrong?"
Her throat tightened.
And maybe that was answer enough.
He touched her chin.
Tilted her face up.
Their eyes locked.
Lips an inch apart.
He leaned in
And the wine glass slammed onto the table beside them, spilling all over the menu and half her leg.
"Oops!" Tessa said, eyes wide and way too innocent. "My hand slipped."
Damon blinked. Pulled back.
Leona sat back too fast, heart thudding harder than she wanted to admit.
Tessa grinned. "Looks like the night's over."
Damon cleared his throat, chuckling. "Next time, maybe aim for the floor."
"Next time, maybe keep your lips to yourself."
He looked at Leona.
Still smiling.
But gentler now.
And leaned in to press a single kiss to her cheek.
Warm.
Slow.
Measured.
"I'm glad I saw you again."
Then he stood.
Tessa looped an arm through Leona's and whispered, "Come on, sinner. Time to go before you start confessing things."
—
It was 4:03 a.m. when the car pulled into the estate.
The gates opened slower this time.
The house felt colder.
Quieter.
Leona stepped out barefoot.
Heels in one hand.
Damon's jacket in the other.
And for the first time in a long time
She didn't want to go inside.
But she did.
Because morning was coming.
And so was the fallout.