Chapter 3 Beneath the suit

Chapter 3: Beneath the Suit

Amira's POV

The courthouse reeked of cold permanence - paper, ink, and vows that tasted like ash.

Amira Okoye stood beside Leonardo Moretti, the man who had twisted law and lust into a single, inescapable knot. The clerk's voice droned in the background as he verified their marriage documents, but all Amira could hear was the blood pounding in her ears.

Her signature bled across the page like a wound, still fresh. Her fingers trembled - not from nerves. But from fury. From the humiliation of being reduced to a clause in a billionaire's agenda.

She didn't look at him. Not at first. But she felt him - the heat, the arrogance, the weight of a man who was too used to winning.

When she finally glanced at him, Leonardo stood like a carved god: tall, precise, impossibly composed. His suit hugged his body like a second skin, and his gold cufflinks winked under the courthouse lights - as if mocking her.

And then, just as the clerk handed over the stamped certificate, Leonardo leaned in, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.

"You wear my name like it burns your skin."

"It does," she hissed. "Too bad you didn't ask before branding me with it."

His smirk was slow. Dark. Possessive.

---

The drive back to his estate was silent. But the air inside the car crackled with tension - raw, feral, and unspoken.

By the time they reached the penthouse, the silence had festered into something sharp.

She hesitated just inside the grand marble foyer. Everything gleamed: the gold-accented staircase, the oversized art, the calculated opulence. But it was him - standing in the center like he owned not just the house but her - that made her pulse spike.

"You're my wife now," he said as he loosened his tie, voice casual. "You don't get guest rooms."

She turned sharply. "This marriage is a transaction, not a honeymoon."

Leonardo stepped toward her. Deliberate. Predatory. His gaze raked over her like a slow drag of heat.

"Everything is a transaction, Amira. Even want. And I've paid for both."

"You think a signature gives you access to my body?"

"No," he murmured, close now, so close she could smell the spice of his cologne. "But the way your body reacts when I'm near says a lot more than your mouth does."

Her breath hitched - fury warred with something far more dangerous. Desire. Need. That sick, traitorous ache he'd awakened the moment he kissed her at the negotiation table.

He reached for her wrist, fingers brushing her skin with the barest pressure. She could have stepped away.

She didn't.

"Say you don't want me," he whispered, eyes burning into hers. "Lie to me, counselor."

Her lips parted, but no words came. She couldn't. Not when her body was already leaning into his warmth, her pulse fluttering in places she didn't want to acknowledge.

He stepped behind her slowly, fingers trailing over her arm, then down the bare curve of her back. His mouth hovered near her ear, his breath sinfully warm.

"I'll stop," he said. "If you ask. But you won't."

His hand slid to the zipper at the back of her dress, thumb teasing the metal pull.

Amira's knees went weak.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"But you want me."

And that was the truth she couldn't outrun. The maddening, shameful truth.

Leonardo pressed against her, his arousal unmistakable, his heat scorching through layers of silk. His hands framed her hips as his mouth found the crook of her neck - slow, open-mouthed kisses that left her trembling.

"You should be careful," she breathed, voice ragged. "You're playing with fire."

His hand slid higher, fingers splaying over her ribs, just beneath the swell of her breast. "So are you," he growled. "And I don't think either of us wants to be saved."

She gasped as his lips found the sensitive spot just behind her ear, sucking gently until her head tipped back against his shoulder. His other hand stroked up her inner thigh, fingertips brushing against the lace beneath her dress.

"Leonardo-" she began, but it came out as a moan.

"You're soaked," he whispered, pressing his palm over her heat. "Lying never looked good on you."

Shame and desire twisted in her gut. She wanted to slap him. She wanted him to keep touching her.

His fingers teased the edge of her panties, sliding beneath the lace to graze bare skin. Her hips jerked in response - she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

But then she snapped.

Amira twisted out of his hold and shoved him backward, breath heaving, face flushed with more than anger.

"I'm not a toy you bought," she snapped.

Leonardo's jaw tightened. His hands clenched at his sides as he stared at her - not with rage, but hunger barely leashed.

He ran a hand through his hair, forcing control back into his voice. "Fine," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Tonight."

He turned and walked away, muscles taut, leaving her standing in the middle of the foyer with her pulse thundering and her thighs still trembling.

But the air between them didn't cool. It simmered. Like a fuse waiting for the spark.

Because what almost happened tonight wasn't the end.

It was only the beginning.