𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔞 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔢

Chapter 40~Noise Complaint

Donatella POV:

I couldn’t sleep.

And it wasn’t because I was restless. Or haunted by thoughts. Or still reeling from the whole “masked assassin almost murdered your entire bloodline and they clapped afterward” fiasco.

No.

It was the screaming.

The moaning.

The unholy yelling.

I buried my head under the pillow. It didn’t help. I rolled to the other side. Nothing. I grabbed Amir’s arm and dragged it over my ears like a human muffler, but even that couldn’t drown out the soundtrack of whatever *circus-level horror scene* Leonardo was hosting up there.

Another shriek.

“Oh my god, Leonardo—”

I sat up so fast I almost headbutted Amir.

“Absolutely not.”

I threw the covers back, nearly tripped over the edge of the rug, and stormed out of my room barefoot, fuming with every step. I didn’t even tie my robe. I was that pissed.

*That* level of fed up.

Because it was one thing to sleep around like your name was permanently engraved on Hell’s guest list—but it was another thing entirely to throw a whole sex concert when I was just trying to get *five goddamn hours of sleep*.

I stomped up the marble staircase and didn’t even hesitate at his door. I could hear them laughing inside—*laughing*—like this was some kind of twisted slumber party.

I banged once. No answer.

Then I just barged in.

And oh.

There they were.

Tangled. Half-dressed. Looked like someone lost a fight with a bottle of wine and a broken necklace. The blonde was gasping. The brunette had the audacity to look scandalized. Leonardo didn’t even flinch.

I walked right in like it was a goddamn business meeting, turned, and sat on the couch across from the bed. I crossed my legs and glared at the wall like it personally offended me.

They froze.

“What the—” one of them squeaked, grabbing for a blanket.

Leonardo blinked. “Tella?” His voice was hoarse. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

I turned my head very slowly and stared at him, my voice flat. “For the sex parade to shut the hell up so I can sleep.”

The blonde gasped. The brunette made an offended sound.

“Oh, please,” I muttered, resting my chin in my hand. “You two were just out here performing a live concert. Don’t act all shy now.”

“Are you *seriously* just sitting there?” the brunette asked, wrapping herself in a sheet like I wasn’t the one who should be traumatized.

“Yes,” I replied, monotone. “And I’m staying here until you leave. With clothes. On.”

Leonardo sat up, shirtless, clearly buzzed. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Tella, go back to your room.”

“No. You ruined the quiet, I’m ruining your vibe. Fair trade.”

The girls exchanged awkward glances and scrambled to gather their clothes. The room smelled like wine and broken decision-making. I kept my face blank as they clumsily got dressed, heels in one hand, ego in the other.

As they were about to leave, I gave them a little wave. “Thanks for the concert. Next time, maybe keep it under a *hundred decibels*?”

Neither of them responded. I counted that as a win.

The door shut behind them. Silence.

Finally.

Now it was just me and Leonardo.

He was still slumped on the bed, eyes bloodshot, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, and this look on his face like the hangover started ten minutes ago.

I didn’t move from the couch. Just stared at him.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, voice like gravel.

I raised a brow. “Start what? I’m just enjoying the show. Nothing like watching the mighty Leonardo bring shame to his sheets and the family name in one night.”

He blinked slow. “You’re in my room.”

“And you’re in my ears.” I stretched out on the couch. “So I figured it evens out.”

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “I wasn’t trying to wake the damn house.”

“Then maybe next time pick someone who doesn’t sound like she’s being mauled by a chainsaw.”

He gave me a look. I gave it right back.

And for once, he had nothing to say.

I let the silence settle. The castle was still. Amir was probably knocked out by now. And me? I wasn’t leaving this room until I was damn sure the only sounds coming from it were breathing and regret.

Leonardo reached for the bottle again.

I narrowed my eyes. “Really?”

He paused.

“You trying to black out? Or just kill the three remaining brain cells you have left?”

He grunted. “Why do you even care?”

“I don’t.” I stood up, walked over, and snatched the bottle out of his hand. “But I do care about getting a decent night’s sleep, and right now you’re public enemy number one.”

He looked up at me, jaw tight. “I didn’t ask you to come in here.”

“And I didn’t ask to hear whatever the hell that was.” I shook the bottle. “So. Let’s call it even.”

I turned and walked the bottle back to the shelf where it belonged, ignoring his glare burning holes into my back. Then I walked to the bathroom, grabbed a cold towel, and tossed it on his nightstand.

“Use that. You look like a war zone.”

“I am a war zone,” he mumbled, laying back.

“No,” I said, heading back to the couch. “You’re just pathetic right now. Big difference.”

He chuckled dryly, eyes closing.

I sat, folding my arms again. Watching. Waiting. Making sure the only thing in this room now was silence.

“Are you gonna sit there all night?” he asked, barely audible.

I leaned back and smirked. “Yup.”