Cat and Mouse (New York Mafia Syndicate #1)

Chapter 19 - Elizabeth

I wake up to the sunlight cutting through the heavy curtains, squinting as I sit up in bed. My leg throbs, a dull ache reminding me that I'm not exactly in the best shape. I rub my eyes and glance around the room, still trying to get used to the luxury of it all. Silk sheets, thick carpets, and a chandelier—this place screams money.

On the bedside table, there's a note with Leonardo's messy scrawl: "In the office. Get some breakfast when you wake up."

I crumple it, chucking it back on the nightstand. Great. Left alone in a mansion full of God knows who. I shove off the covers, my leg protesting as I swing it over the edge of the bed. My clothes from last night are nowhere in sight, and I'll be damned if I step into anything that doesn't scream comfortable.

His closet is ridiculous, like something out of a fashion magazine—suits, expensive shirts, and ties that cost more than my rent. I grab one of his button-ups, the fabric soft as I slip it on, followed by a pair of his too-big sweatpants that hang off my hips. I tie them up tight, but I still look like a kid playing dress-up.

I hobble down the long corridor, holding on to the banister for support as I make my way downstairs. The second I hit the landing, a few of the men standing around the foyer glance over, muttering in Italian, their eyes lingering. My stomach twists.

"Che fai?" one of them says, eyeing me like I'm some kind of exotic animal.

I shoot him a glare, wishing I could understand more than just a few words here and there.

Suddenly, Matteo appears, like he's always lurking. His smile is easy, and he offers me his arm.

"You need help, detective?"

"I'm fine," I mutter, but I still take his arm, more for balance than anything.

We walk through the sprawling hallways, over marble floors and ornate artwork that probably costs more than my entire precinct's yearly budget. Leonardo really is rich—like stupidly rich. It's hard to even wrap my head around. Chandeliers, marble staircases, tall ceilings… this isn't just wealth, it's power.

When we reach the kitchen, Matteo motions for me to sit at a long dining table.

"Sit. I'll get you something."

I sit awkwardly, staring at the grand space—cabinets everywhere, shiny appliances, and a massive island in the middle. Everything is sleek and expensive. I don't even belong here.

Matteo comes back with a plate of eggs, toast, and juice and sets it down in front of me. He pours me a cup of coffee without asking, and I immediately grab for it like it's a lifeline.

"This is Rosa," he gestures to the older woman bustling around the kitchen, clearly the housekeeper.

"Hi," I mumble, not knowing what else to say. She just smiles and continues whatever she's doing, probably used to strangers in Leonardo's house.

Matteo sits down across from me, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair, watching me. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me right now?"

I raise an eyebrow at him, swallowing my bite of eggs before answering. "About a 12. You were there the entire time, and I didn't even know you were a mole. You let me walk into this whole thing blind."

His expression is unreadable. "I never sabotaged your investigations, Liz. All I did was make sure my cousin didn't get caught."

I scoff. "And how did you even pull that off?"

Matteo looks away for a second, like he's weighing his words. "You know Leo. He has his reasons for the way he does things. But—"

I cut him off. "Leo is a serial killer, according to my files. The man has bodies on him, Matteo. Bodies."

Matteo's lips twitch, and I know he's holding back a smile. "He's… eccentric."

Before I can respond, Leonardo strides in, his presence filling the room like it always does. He walks straight over to me, his lips brushing my cheek before I can even think to protest. I hate how my body reacts, melting into him like he owns me.

"You two talking about me?" he asks, clearly amused.

"Nothing good," I mutter.

Leonardo shoots a look at Matteo. "Go pick up the things I asked for."

Matteo stands, giving me a small nod before disappearing out of the room.

I narrow my eyes at Leonardo. "What things?"

He leans over, stealing a bite of my eggs like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Your wedding dress," he says casually.

I choke on my coffee, coughing. "Excuse me? What the hell do you mean? My wedding dress?"

He sits down across from me, completely calm, like he just asked me to pass the salt. "Where do you think your captain believes you are?"

I blink, trying to keep up with his ridiculous shifts in conversation. "I don't know, probably thinks I'm dead in a ditch somewhere."

He shakes his head. "Nope. I sent an email from your account. Told him you were traveling off-grid for a while."

I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. "And he believed that?"

Leonardo grins. "Of course. I'm very convincing."

For the first time, I seriously consider how much safer I am with this psychopath than with actual police. He's clearly a lot more equipped to keep me safe.

He takes my hand in his, thumb brushing over my knuckles before he stands up. "Come on. Let's get you back upstairs. You need to rest."

I don't argue as he leads me back up the stairs, his arm wrapped around my waist as I hobble along. He's gentle, careful with my leg, and even though I hate myself for it, I lean into him, letting his warmth wrap around me.

Back in the room, he helps me back into bed, his touch lingering a little too long on my skin. I try not to react, try not to think about the fact that I'm basically about to fake marry a man I've been hunting for years. A killer. A criminal. But also, the only one who can keep me alive.

As I settle back against the pillows, Leonardo pulls the covers over me, brushing my hair away from my face.

"Get some rest."

I nod, feeling exhaustion creeping in. "What about you?"

He smirks, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I've got work to do. But I'll be here when you wake up."

I watch him leave, my chest tight, thoughts spinning out of control. How the hell did I end up here?

All because I kept that night in that club a secret.

Well, fuck.

***

I wake up to the sound of rustling and find him sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at me like he's been there for a while.

"Hey, green eyes," Leonardo says, voice smooth, a little too casual for someone who clearly planned to watch me sleep.

I blink, trying to shake off the grogginess. "What time is it?"

"It's 4 p.m. You've been out cold," he replies. He pulls something from behind him, something massive and white, and places it on the bed beside me. "Here's your dress."

I sit up, staring at the fabric spilling across the comforter. A fucking wedding dress. Of course.

"You want to try it on?" His tone is almost teasing, like he's daring me to object.

"Now?" I ask, incredulous, though I'm not sure why I'm surprised.

He shrugs, leaning back a little, clearly thinking it's the most reasonable request in the world.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly when my foot hits the floor. Leonardo's up immediately, reaching to help me stand. His hands, annoyingly steady, wrap around my waist as I struggle to balance on my still-bruised leg.

"You need help getting dressed?" he asks, amusement tugging at his lips.

"No, I've got it," I say, but then pause. "Can you, I don't know, close your eyes or something?"

He smirks, clearly finding this whole thing amusing. "Close my eyes, huh?" But, to my surprise, he actually does, tilting his head slightly with a dramatic sigh.

His smugness only makes this weirder, but whatever. I try to work quickly, but my movements are slow, the damn leg still stiff. I strip out of the shirt and too-big sweatpants I borrowed. My fingers are trembling, not from nerves, but from the sheer absurdity of all this. I drag the dress out, holding it in front of me for a moment.

It's beautiful. Like, really beautiful. There are layers of soft lace and silk, delicate beading that catches the dim light of the room. I don't know why it surprises me that it's so perfect—it's Leo . Of course it's perfect. He'd never half-ass something like this.

"You like it?" he asks, voice dipping low.

"Yeah." I hesitate, then add, "It's gorgeous."

I slip it on, the fabric cool against my skin. I don't even need to look in a mirror to know it fits like a damn glove. Of course it does.

"Okay, you can look now," I say, but his eyes are already open, locked on me with an intensity that makes my skin flush.

He's on me in an instant, pulling me toward him, his lips crushing against mine before I can even process it. And damn it, I melt into him, every protest dissolving on my tongue.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls back, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat. "I need to get myself into a suit and have the makeup team fix you up."

I blink, still trying to catch my breath. "What are you talking about?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Guests have been waiting since noon."

"Since noon ?" I practically screech, stepping back like he's lost his mind. "And you didn't wake me?"

He laughs, that deep, infuriating laugh that I both hate and love. "I thought we established I'm a bit crazy."

I stare at him, speechless. This man orchestrated a wedding while I was sleeping, and I'm just supposed to be okay with that?

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" I finally manage to spit out.

"Maybe," he says with a wink. "But it's happening. Now, are you gonna stand there yelling at me, or are you going to finish getting ready?"

I want to yell. I want to throw something at him. But instead, I find myself sitting down, reaching for the ridiculous strappy sandals he's left out for me. Of course, they're gorgeous, but as soon as I slip my foot into them, I can feel the awkward tilt from my injured leg.

"Yeah, no. Not happening," I mutter, shoving them off.

"What's the issue?" Leonardo asks, eyeing me.

"I'm not limping down the aisle in heels."

His eyes narrow for a second before he nods. "Fine. We'll get you something else."

He disappears for a minute, leaving me alone in this fairy-tale nightmare. I glance at the mirror across the room, and despite everything, I almost don't recognize myself. The dress clings in all the right places, flowing out in soft waves at the bottom, making me look like some kind of Mafia princess.

When he comes back, he's holding a pair of flat sandals, simple but perfect.

"Better?" he asks, watching me slip them on.

"Much," I grumble, though I'm silently grateful. I hate that he notices. Always.

He holds out his arm, and for a moment, I hesitate. But what else am I going to do? Run? Not likely. I take it, and we step out into the hallway, where he immediately pulls me into the grandness of his mansion.

Leonardo looks ridiculously good in his tux, like something straight out of a GQ magazine. His dark hair is slicked back, his jawline so sharp it could cut glass. Damn it, why does he have to look so… irresistible?

"You ready?" he asks, eyes glinting with amusement as if he knows exactly what's running through my head.

I shoot him a glare. "As I'll ever be."

We head down a grand staircase, the entire place just screaming money. It's the kind of décor that says, "I'm stupidly rich, and I don't give a damn who knows it."

We step out into a courtyard filled with people. It's like something out of a dream—no, a nightmare. Beautiful, terrifying, overwhelming. The garden is lined with candles, the soft hum of music filling the air. It's an intimate affair but still larger than anything I could've imagined.

Leo tugs me along, his grip firm but not rough. Eyes follow us as we make our way down the path, whispers in the air. I try to focus on my breathing, but then I catch a glimpse of the officiant standing under the archway, waiting for us.

This isn't real. This can't be real. But it is.

We stop in front of the officiant, and I can't help but glance up at Leonardo. He's staring down at me with something in his eyes—something I can't quite place. For the first time, I see a flicker of something deeper, something that goes beyond the arrogance, the control.

And in that moment, a part of me wishes it was real.

The ceremony starts, and everything blurs together—the words, the vows, the music. I'm on autopilot, too stunned to process any of it. Leonardo slips a ring onto my finger, a massive diamond that catches the light and sparkles like a promise I don't understand.

When it's over, he leans in, kissing me with a hunger that feels all too real. The crowd erupts into applause, and I hate how my body betrays me, melting against him once again.

As we pull apart, I catch his smirk, and I know he's fully aware of what he's doing to me. He takes my hand, leading me back through the crowd, whispering, "You'll thank me later."

"For what, exactly?" I whisper back, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling.

"For making you mine," he says, his voice low and possessive, sending a shiver—no, not that word, damn it—running through me.

I don't respond. I can't. Because somewhere deep down, beneath the chaos, beneath the lies and the insanity, a part of me isn't sure if I want to run anymore.