Chapter 5 Moving in

Leonel – POV

I watched her walk out of the room with that defiant tilt to her chin.

Zara Whitmore was many things-stubborn, sharp-tongued, unpredictable-but most of all, she was fire wrapped in silk. The kind of woman who didn't beg for mercy. She demanded respect.

And I'd given her that.

But what she didn't know was how dangerous respect could be in my world.

I returned to the lounge, pretending to focus on the schedule for Friday's event. But my mind wasn't on spreadsheets or PR strategies. It was on her. The measured sound of her footsteps. The defiance in her voice. The storm in her eyes.

She had no idea what she'd just walked into.

I built this empire by making the hard calls-by staying two steps ahead of everyone. And now, I'd just invited someone into my fortress who didn't follow rules... she rewrote them.

The silence in the lounge stretched. I glanced at the glass of whiskey untouched beside me. I reached for it, but didn't drink.

The truth was, I didn't want to control her.

I wanted to understand her.

I wanted to know why a woman who had every reason to crumble chose, instead, to strike deals with devils like me.

I gave her until the next morning to settle in. But by noon, I found myself outside her door.

I didn't knock. Just stood there.

Then, finally, I rapped twice.

The door opened slowly. She stood in a loose, sleeveless black top, high-waisted jeans, no makeup. Hair twisted up like she couldn't be bothered.

But God, she looked lethal.

"Yes?" she said, unimpressed.

I didn't smile. "We need to go over details before Friday's event."

She stepped aside, letting me in without a word. Her room was already too neat, like she hadn't touched a thing. Like she was trying not to settle.

I placed the folder on her desk. "It's the schedule. Dress fittings. Press coverage boundaries. Questions you might be asked. I want you prepared."

"I can handle it," she said, flipping through the documents.

"You'll be walking into a room full of people who either want to court me or crush me. That means you're walking into a pit."

"I've walked through worse."

"You were left at the altar forty-eight hours ago. That's not 'worse,' Zara. That's trauma."

Her hand stilled on the folder.

I regretted the words instantly-not because they weren't true, but because I saw the flicker of pain she didn't want me to see.

She closed the folder with deliberate care.

"If you brought me here to psychoanalyze me, you're wasting both our time."

"No," I said. "I brought you here because I trust few people. You're either going to become my biggest asset or the only person capable of ruining me."

Her gaze sharpened. "Then why take the risk?"

"Because something tells me you've got more to lose if this fails than I do."

Her laugh was short, humorless. "You think I'm afraid of failure?"

"No," I said, stepping closer. "I think you're afraid of needing someone again."

We stood inches apart.

She didn't move.

I didn't flinch.

The tension curled in the air like smoke.

"I won't pretend," she said finally, "but I won't be a puppet either."

"Good. Puppets don't last in my world."

I left her standing there with the folder in her hand, her expression unreadable.

As I walked back toward my office, my phone buzzed. It was Tristan-my head of security.

"Sir, a note was delivered this morning. No return address. I think you should see it."

"Bring it to me."

Minutes later, he entered with a sealed black envelope. My name was embossed in silver.

I opened it.

Inside was a single line written in careful, slanted script:

She's your weakness. And we will use her.

I read it twice, then burned it.

And just like that, the game changed.

I called my assistant. "Double security detail on Miss Whitmore. Discreet but constant."

"Yes, sir."

I stared out the window.

This arrangement had started as strategy.

But now, it was personal.

They wanted to use her against me?

Let them try.

I'd burn the city down before I let them touch her.

Hours passed before I saw her again.

It was late evening when I returned from the Wolfe Corp tower. I expected her to be in her room, but I found her in the library instead-perched on the arm of the leather sofa, barefoot, scanning one of my first edition books like it didn't cost more than most luxury cars.

She didn't notice me at first.

Or maybe she did, and just didn't care.

"I didn't peg you for the reading type," I said from the doorway.

She glanced up lazily. "I didn't peg you for the kind who collects stories he never bothers to read."

I stepped inside. "Touché."

Zara closed the book and placed it on the table with gentle care. "If this is going to work, Leonel, you need to stop treating me like a temporary solution."

"I don't treat you like a solution. I treat you like a partner."

"A partner you keep secrets from?"

I raised a brow. "I haven't lied to you."

"But you haven't told me everything either. Like why you really want me at that charity event. Who's going to be there? What message you're trying to send?"

Smart. As always.

I took a deep breath and sat across from her.

"Because the man who tried to destroy my company three years ago just resurfaced. Publicly. And I need him to know I'm untouchable-and unpredictable."

"Using me as your wild card."

"No," I said quietly. "Using you as my checkmate."

She didn't respond immediately. Then she leaned forward.

"Just don't forget, Leonel... you may be a king in this game. But I'm not your queen by default. I choose my power. I don't inherit it."

And in that moment, I knew...

She wasn't my weakness.

She was my war.