As an alternative, Leon had offered to set her up in an apartment and help her find employment within one of his own businesses.
She had again refused and instead asked if it was possible for her to work as a maid on his estate. She explained that being there was the first time she’d felt safe since she was captured.
There were five underbosses here from New York to attend the wedding of Leon’s niece. He just didn’t know yet which one of them was operating against his instructions and causing this human misery. There was also the possibility it could be a don from one of the other major cities in the States, who also answered to him but were trying to muddy the water by bringing that forced prostitution to his city.
No, Leon had no idea yet who was working against him, but once he did, they would know the full force of his displeasure.
“Leon?”
What the fuck was he doing thinking about the unrest of one of his dons or underbosses when he was with a beautiful woman he wanted to give all his attention to.
“Champagne?” he invited lightly as he moved to take a bottle from the temperature-controlled glass cabinet.
“Why not?”
He deftly opened the bottle before pouring the pale pink bubbly wine into two fluted glasses, and then carried them both over to where Carla now stood looking out the wall of windows at the beauty that was London at night. “To Grace and Matteo,” he toasted huskily before taking a sip of his champagne.
“To the happy couple,” she echoed, also sipping the chilled wine.
But Carla wasn’t fooled for a moment by the way Leon seemed to have switched back into seduction mode. He’d become introspective after her comment about one of his own people wanting him dead, and his expression as he seemed lost in thought had definitely boded ill for someone.
What must it be like for him?
Always alert. Always wary. Never knowing quite whom he could or couldn’t trust.
Obviously, he could trust his daughter, Natalia, and his niece, Grace. Her new husband, Matteo, was definitely loyal to Leon too. Grace had mentioned a new alliance between the London bratva and the Italian Mafia, and she knew several of the wedding guests were part of the bratva. But surely anyone else was open to the bribery of money or power, including the bodyguards who were closest to Leon.
What was she doing? Carla wondered self-disgustedly.
Leon was arrogance and power personified, danger personified, and he was rich beyond imagining. He certainly didn’t need or want her or anyone else’s pity. The penthouse apartment he was staying in could comfortably house ten families without any of them ever having to meet. Carla had never seen such opulence before, in a home let alone a hotel. And Leon lived like this all the time.
Besides, she’d come up here with Leon so he could seduce her and show her how an obviously experienced man could make her forget all about a selfish idiot like her ex-fiancé.
No pressure, Leon!
Carla couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter that thought evoked.
Leon gave her a questioning look.
She chewed briefly on her bottom lip before explaining. “I was just wondering if you were capo dei capi in all aspects of your life.”
Humor lit up his gaze. “As in am I the boss of all bosses in bed too?”
Her cheeks heated. “No pressure, of course,” she repeated her thought of a moment ago.
“None taken, and that will be for you to decide.” Leon’s humor faded as the air between them suddenly grew tense. His gaze held hers as he took the fluted glass out of her hand and placed it, along with his own, on the coffee table behind them before taking her hands in his. “These are privacy windows. We’re able to see out, but no one can see in,” he explained.
She huffed. “Who could possibly see in here anyway when we’re forty-four floors up?”
Leon shrugged. “Don’t ever underestimate the paparazzi’s ability to improvise. Hiring a helicopter to fly up here so they can take photographs through the window would be the easiest thing in the world if they decided to do it.” He wasn’t about to share with Carla that the windows were also bulletproof. It wasn’t only members of the press who were capable of hiring helicopters, nor were the “shots” taken always photographic.
Twenty years ago, the whole of the Mafia hierarchy, including his own father, had been attacked by gunmen in helicopters as they were sitting down to a meeting in the penthouse of a New York hotel. Miraculously, no one had actually died during the attack, and the police had brushed it off as arguments between the various mob families. But ever since that time, the Mafia ensured they owned a hotel in each major city and that all the windows in the penthouse of that hotel couldn’t be seen into and were also bulletproof. Including this one.
Carla’s brows rose. “Have any of the paparazzi ever tried to do something like that to you?”
His mouth quirked ruefully as he nodded. “Even I don’t own or control the sky.” His cars were all bulletproof too. Something else Carla didn’t need to know.
“That is so intrusive.”
He gave another chuckle. “You sound indignant on my behalf.”
“That’s because I am.” She scowled. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy.”
“Even me?”
“Of course.”
Leon tilted his head questioningly as Carla suddenly went silent. The way she now refused to meet his gaze was also cause for concern. The fact that her hands were trembling slightly in his even more so. “Have you changed your mind about spending the night with me?”
Her eyes widened. “The whole night?”
“I happen to like morning sex as much as evening and night sex.” He liked sex anytime, Leon acknowledged ruefully, even if he
