Hostile Heart, Soft Kisses

"Tell me this isn't your fault, Vance."

Amelia Roth didn't bother standing when Leo stormed into her office. She didn't flinch when the glass doors slammed shut behind him. Her heels were propped on the corner of her desk, a leather folder open in front of her, and her voice sharp enough to leave marks.

Across the room, Leo Vance's jaw ticked just enough to betray that she'd already hit a nerve.

> "Good morning to you too, Roth. Coffee? Or just caffeine-free aggression today?"

He was dressed in sin: a black-on-black suit, undone collar, and that goddamn smirk that had sunk more negotiations than scandal ever could. Amelia's pulse didn't flicker. Not for him.

> "Spare me the charm," she said, shutting the folder. "Because unless you can explain why our stock just tanked twelve percent in three hours, I'm calling your father and suggesting we burn your name off this deal before the SEC has a chance."

Leo's lips parted amused, not surprised.

> "You think I leaked it?"

> "I think you exist to be a problem. I think this is exactly your brand of sabotage. And I think I'm one call away from crushing your company and salting the ground it was built on."

> "Always such violent metaphors," he said, walking toward her desk. "Tell me, Amelia. Do you speak to everyone like you're auditioning for the role of Ice Queen? Or am I special?"

> "You're not special. You're a headline waiting to happen."

> "Aren't we all?" He pulled out the chair across from her and sat like he owned the floor beneath it. "But here's the thing. This leak hurts me too. And I don't like bleeding in public."

Amelia's eyes narrowed. She folded her hands over the desk.

> "Talk."

Leo's cocky grin faded just enough to make room for something dangerous.

> "This wasn't a random hack. The files that went out were internal. Confidential. They had both Roth and Vance merger plans attached. That means someone on the inside of this joint venture wants us dead."

> "Then find them and fire them."

> "Oh, I intend to. But first, we have a press conference in two hours. And like it or not " he leaned forward, dropping a printed headline in front of her, " the press already thinks we're screwing."

She didn't look at the paper. She looked at him. Hard.

> "We aren't."

> "That's not what this says." Leo's finger tapped the bold red title: Roth and Vance: Bedroom Deal or Corporate Merger?

He grinned again. More wolf than man.

> "I guess we're trending."

Amelia stood, slowly. She walked around the desk, each step a calculated threat.

> "If you think I'll play along with some tabloid fantasy "

> "Then I'll show them the truth." Leo's voice dropped. "That you're ruthless. Cold. And completely under my skin."

They stood chest to chest. Her perfume hit him like a sin he'd regret. His breath tickled her jaw.

> "This isn't high school, Vance."

> "Could've fooled me. You just called my dad."

Her mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not quite.

> "Leave."

> "I will. After we make a deal."

> "What deal?"

> "We fake it," he said, simple. "A truce. Public unity. You and me, playing nice for the cameras. Hell, let's give them what they want. Let's flirt at galas, smile for the media. Pretend we don't want to slit each other's throats."

Amelia's nails dug into her palm.

> "Pretend we don't?"

> "Pretend I haven't wanted to touch you since I saw you destroy that VP in Singapore last year."

Silence slammed between them.

Then, he turned for the door.

> "I'll send the PR team your measurements for a joint photo shoot," he said. "Try to wear something soft. It'll make you seem human."

He left before she could throw something at his head.

Amelia sat stone-still in the Roth-Vance conference room as Charles Vance paced and her father polished his rage behind thin glasses.

> "This is beyond damage control," Charles growled. "This is an all-out attack."

> "We've been undercut," William Roth agreed. "By someone with access to both infrastructures."

> "And the press already has their narrative," Leo added, lounging like a prince at war. "Us. Together. Destroying everything."

> "Then lean into it," Charles said. "Give them what they want."

Amelia's head snapped up.

> "You're suggesting we stage a relationship?"

> "I'm suggesting you become the solution to the scandal. Co-leads. Public partnership. And yes if the chemistry looks real, let them believe it."

> "It's a lie," she bit out.

> "It's strategy," Leo corrected. "You know, the thing you're so famous for."

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him.

She hated that both urges felt the same.

Later that evening, a sleek black envelope waited on her desk.

Roth-Vance Charity Gala

Tomorrow. 7PM. Arrive together.

Underneath, Leo had written in his lazy, scrawling pen:

> We should at least pretend to like each other. Wear red. I'll match your sin.

Amelia stared at the note for a long time.

Then she picked up her phone and dialed Chloe.

> "What's the sexiest, most 'fuck around and find out' dress I can wear to a PR gala?"

The next night, Amelia walked into the gala on Leo's arm.

Flashes erupted around them like fireworks. His hand grazed her bare back. Her body betrayed her with goosebumps.

> "Careful," she whispered. "I bite."

> "Good," he murmured, lips near her ear. "I bruise."

They smiled for the cameras.

Enemies. Liars. Lovers in the making.

And somewhere across the ballroom, a pair of eyes watched through the scope of a hidden lens.

A red laser blinked once on Amelia's dress.

Click.

Photo captured.

> You're playing a dangerous game, Roth.

And someone just raised the stakes.

The ballroom glittered with billionaire arrogance chandeliers like galaxies, champagne flowing like it wasn't being billed to shareholders, and more scandal than satin on the floor.

Amelia moved like fire in a red backless gown that was one wrong breath away from indecent. She felt Leo's gaze crawl down her spine the moment he saw her.

> "Well?" she asked when he joined her by the bar.

> "You wore sin," he said. "Good girl."

Her eyes cut to his throat. The top three buttons of his shirt were open, no tie in sight. Casual defiance. Controlled chaos. Just like him.

> "You're lucky I didn't bring a blade."

> "You brought better," he murmured, eyes flicking to her lips.

> "Don't flatter yourself."

> "Not yet."

The press swarmed, then peeled off in waves after snapping a dozen shots. Leo's hand stayed on the small of her back, possessive enough to sell the lie but his thumb brushed her spine just once.

It wasn't accidental.

And her body wasn't innocent.

She hated him for that.

> "One dance," he said. "For optics."

> "You just want to touch me."

> "I always want to touch you."

They moved onto the marble floor as the string quartet shifted into something slow and indulgent.

Leo pulled her in. Close. Too close.

> "You know," he said into her ear, "you could've worn black and played it safe."

> "Safe is for people who lose."

> "Is that what this is, then?" His palm flexed against her waist. "You trying to win?"

> "Always."

> "So what happens when you lose to me?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

Her body gave her away.

Her fingers gripped his shoulder too tightly. Her breath hitched when his thigh pressed between hers. And when he dipped her low just to watch her eyes widen her back arched on instinct.

He held her there for one long, heavy second.

> "Admit it," he whispered. "You've thought about it."

> "About what?"

> "Me. Between those ice-sheet thighs of yours."

She snapped up. Pulled back.

Slapped him.

Not hard. Not soft either.

The room noticed.

He smiled.

> "There she is," he said under his breath. "My favorite war."

Back in her penthouse suite shared with Leo now, for "branding purposes" Amelia stormed in first.

He followed. Calm. Too calm.

> "You crossed a line."

> "Which one?" he asked. "I'm losing count."

> "You humiliated me."

> "Correction: you hit me. The press thinks it's foreplay. Our stock's up six percent. You're welcome."

She turned. Angry. Flushed. Aching.

> "You think this is funny?"

> "I think you're scared." He closed the door behind him. Locked it. "Because for the first time in your perfect little life, you don't control the game."

> "You want to see scared?" she said, stepping up to him. "Try crossing me again."

> "You want to see control?" he murmured. "Try telling me to stop."

Her breath caught.

His hand cupped her jaw firm, not rough. He didn't move in, didn't kiss her. Just looked.

> "I'm not your father," he said, voice low. "You don't have to be ice with me."

> "You don't know me."

> "I do. I know you'd rather be hated than touched. I know you're afraid of wanting anything you can't weaponize."

Silence.

She hated how close he was. How steady his voice sounded. How warm his hand was when the rest of the world was cold.

> "I don't want you," she whispered.

> "Liar," he said.

And then

He backed off.

Left the room.

Not because he couldn't have her.

Because he wanted her to come to him.

And it almost worked.

Later that night, Amelia sat on the terrace, wrapped in a silk robe and an expensive kind of fury.

The press was still ablaze.

Enemies turned lovers. Public enemies. Private partners?

Her phone buzzed.

A text. No name. No number.

> That red dress makes you easy to aim at.

Next time, don't give me a reason.

A second text followed. A photo.

Her. And Leo.

On the dance floor.

Laser sight marked on his back.

A third message:

> You're sleeping with the enemy.

And someone's going to bleed for it.

> This wasn't just a scandal.

It was a warning.

And someone out there wanted Amelia Roth dead.

Location: The Roth–Vance Penthouse Suite

> "This is a joke."

Amelia stopped cold just inside the penthouse, her heels clicking against polished marble. She scanned the sleek, modern spacethe wide terrace, open-concept living room, a bottle of champagne already on ice, and a single king-sized bed dominating the master.

One bed.

> "PR said we should look 'comfortable,'" Leo said from behind her, dropping his overnight bag on the velvet chaise. "You don't like it? You can sleep on the couch."

> "You'll be sleeping on the sidewalk."

> "You sure?" His voice dipped. "Because I'm very good with shared spaces."

She spun, glaring.

> "You think this is funny?"

> "No," Leo said, walking toward her. "I think it's inevitable."

The tension between them was chemical now combustible and humming just beneath the skin.

Leo stepped closer, invading her space. Amelia didn't move back. Didn't blink.

> "You're playing a dangerous game, Vance."

> "I like danger." His voice lowered. "You wear it like perfume."

His hand hovered near her hip, not touching yet somehow more intimate than any contact.

Amelia's breath hitched.

> "We're enemies," she whispered.

> "Enemies who want to taste what hating each other has cost."

She hated that her pulse skipped. That her skin buzzed. That her knees remembered how it felt to be dipped on the dance floor, his thigh between hers.

> "You're a narcissist."

> "You're obsessed with control." He stepped in fully now, until their bodies nearly brushed. "Let go. I dare you."

And God help her, her body was tempted.

> "You're not my type," she said softly, voice trembling with defiance.

> "That's the first true thing you've said all day." Leo's thumb brushed the underside of her jaw. "Because I'm not your type. I'm your ruin."

Her lashes fluttered. Their mouths were inches apart.

And just before their lips met

Her phone buzzed.

She yanked away like he'd burned her.

> "Saved by the bell," he murmured.

She turned toward the bar, furious at herself, furious at him, furious at the heat still licking beneath her skin.

> "We're here to fix a scandal. Not create new ones."

> "Speak for yourself." He leaned against the wall, watching her with that lazy heat. "I've got a few I'd like to start."

Hours later, Amelia stood under a rainfall shower, the city glowing through the frosted glass.

She told herself she was only trying to relax.

But when her fingers drifted down her own body, when she bit her lip thinking about the press of his palm on her waist, the hard line of his chest against her back during that dance...

She hated herself for how badly she wanted it.

Wanted him.

A knock at the bathroom door.

> "Water heater's shorted. I need in."

> "No."

> "It's either this or I show up to our first joint interview smelling like last night's sin."

She cursed under her breath and cracked the door.

> "Shower's big enough. Stay on your side."

> "What side?"

He stepped in.

Steam enveloped them.

Amelia pressed herself against the far wall. Leo stood just behind her, water running over his chest, his abs, that lazy smirk still in place.

> "Nothing to see here," she muttered, refusing to look.

> "That's a shame," he said, eyes locked on her reflection in the glass.

She turned.

Big mistake.

The air between them evaporated.

His hand touched her wrist, then slid so slowly up her arm. Not groping. Exploring.

She didn't stop him.

Her breath grew shallow.

His thumb ghosted over her collarbone. His voice was low.

> "You hate that I see you. Don't you?"

> "I hate that you like it."

> "I love it."

She stepped forward, pushing him back against the tile. Her eyes locked on his mouth.

> "Say it," she whispered.

> "Say what?"

> "That you want me."

> "I want you." His hands gripped her hips. "Badly. Brutally. Completely."

They stood like that. Breathing. Shaking.

She didn't kiss him.

She left.

Later that night, Leo stepped onto the terrace, shirtless, drink in hand.

> "You always watch the skyline like it's about to fall."

Amelia, wrapped in a silk robe, didn't look at him.

> "Because it might."

> "That leak... wasn't just a PR hit," he said, voice turning serious. "I checked the server logs. Someone left behind a digital fingerprint. A signature."

> "Whose?"

He looked at her.

> "Yours."

She froze.

> "I didn't"

> "I know. Which means someone's framing you."

Her pulse thundered.

> "Someone inside?"

> "Someone who wants both of us out of the picture."

They stared at each other.

Then

The lights flickered.

A whisper of static buzzed through the penthouse.

Leo moved first, stepping in front of her, shielding her.

> "Stay behind me."

> "Leo"

> "Amelia. Don't argue."

He opened the door to the hallway

And found a red envelope taped to the wall.

Inside: A single photo. Amelia in the shower. Her body. Her face. Clear as day.

On the back:

> It's not just business anymore. It's personal.

Sleep tight, lovers.

"How long have they been watching us?"

Amelia's voice was low, lethal. The photo trembled slightly in her hand though her fingers didn't.

Leo stood shirtless in the doorway, fury boiling just beneath his skin. Not his usual smug smirk, not his careless charm.

No, this was something different.

This was violence dressed in Vance skin.

> "That's not just surveillance," he said, voice flat. "That's a warning."

Amelia turned the photo over again. The image was high-resolution. Clear. Close.

Someone had been inside the suite.

> "Who has access to this floor?" she asked tightly.

> "Only security," Leo said. "And us."

He pulled his phone from his back pocket, dialing with one hand while the other wrapped around her shoulder, guiding her inside.

She let him. That, alone, terrified her more than the photo.

The suite door locked behind them with a beep. Leo pulled the blinds closed, turned off the lights, and stepped in front of her again.

> "We're not safe here."

> "I'm not scared."

> "You should be," he said, stepping closer. "Someone just threatened you in your own home."

> "It's not my home. It's a set."

> "It's real enough that someone broke in."

Silence.

His hand brushed her hair back, slowly. His thumb ghosted over her cheek.

> "You okay?" he asked.

> "Don't," she whispered. "Don't pretend you care."

His eyes darkened.

> "I'm not pretending."

Then, before she could think, Leo stepped forward, crowding her back against the suite wall.

He didn't kiss her.

He just stood there, his body pressing into hers, their breaths syncopated and ragged.

> "You think this is just sex," he said. "You think I touch you because it's a power game."

Her fingers tightened on his biceps. His heat bled into her.

> "Isn't it?" she breathed.

> "No. Not with you."

> "Liar."

> "Say stop," he whispered.

She didn't.

He tilted her chin. She didn't pull away.

His mouth met herssoft, at first. Testing. A question wrapped in heat.

She answered with teeth.

The kiss turned brutal in a heartbeatmouths clashing, hands clawing at clothes, a war fought in silk and skin.

Leo walked her backward to the bed.

Amelia's robe hit the floor.

His shirt followed.

He didn't undress her. He didn't need to.

His hands slid down the length of her spine as she sank onto the mattress, breathless, furious, wanting.

> "We shouldn't," she gasped.

> "We already did."

> "This changes nothing."

> "It changes everything."

He lowered over her, and her legs opened without a second thought.

Her control cracked, piece by piece.

She hated how much she loved the way he said her name like a vow and a dare.

They didn't go all the way.

But they went far enough to shatter something between them.

Afterward, she sat at the edge of the bed, hair loose, lips swollen.

Leo handed her a glass of whiskey. No words.

> "You're still the enemy," she said.

> "So are you."

> "So what are we doing?"

> "Making a mistake we'll make again."

She laughed once. Dark and low.

> "You're not worth it."

> "No," he said. "But you are."

The intercom buzzed.

Leo's head snapped up.

He crossed the room in two strides and pressed the answer button.

Nothing.

Just static.

Then a voice.

Distorted. Masked.

> "Tick tock, lovers."

> "Your time's running out."

The line cut.

Amelia stood. Heart pounding.

A knock at the door followed.

This time, a package. Unmarked.

Inside: A USB drive.

Leo inserted it into the laptop, jaw tight.

A video played.

Security cam footage.

From inside her bedroom.

Footage of her sleeping.

Of Leo entering.

Of him placing his hand on her throat during a heated kiss.

> "Holy" Leo backed away. "This wasn't tonight. This is from before."

> "What?" she breathed.

> "That night I helped you escape that press ambush at the Zurich summit. We were alone. No cameras."

> "Then how...?"

They looked at each other.

Because whoever was behind this?

Had been watching for a long, long time.

> This wasn't blackmail.

This was an obsession.

And it wasn't just targeting Amelia anymore

It was watching both of them fall.

Location: The Roth–Vance Penthouse | Next Morning.

"You're not going to the gala tonight."

Leo's voice was low, final, and firm. It echoed through the penthouse kitchen like a loaded gun, quiet but lethal.

Amelia didn't even look up from her espresso.

> "Excuse me?"

> "I said you're not going. Cancel the appearance."

> "Did I miss the part where you became my keeper?" She lifted her eyes. Ice. Challenge. "Or are you just trying out your caveman era?"

He tossed the morning's security report onto the counter.

> "Because whoever's stalking you didn't just leave a picture this time." He pointed. "They disabled the hallway camera and piggybacked the hotel's network. That takes planning."

> "So what?" she asked, taking a sip. "I let fear dictate my life?"

> "No." He stepped closer. "You let me."

Her laugh was sharp. Sexy. Dangerous.

> "You don't get to tell me what to do."

> "I do when someone's aiming lasers at your back."

The moment hung heavy.

She hated how much she liked his fury. The way he went feral. Like she was his to protect.

Like she was his at all.

> "So what's your plan?" she asked, finishing her drink. "Keep me locked up until this shadow threat gets bored?"

> "You think this is a joke?"

> "I think if you touch me like you did last night, you'll forget how to talk."

His jaw flexed.

And then he was across the space in a heartbeat, pinning her body against the cold marble counter.

> "Say that again," he growled.

> "Touch me," she whispered.

His hand slid into her hair. She gasped as he angled her head back. His mouth hovered above hers.

> "I want to protect you," he said. "I want to bury you in silk and bullets and make the world too scared to breathe near you."

> "Then do it," she said. "But don't ask me to stay small."

Later that night, they arrived at the gala together anyway. Cameras flashed. The room sparkled with wealth and venom.

Amelia wore black velvet, her back exposed, every inch of her posture saying: I'm still here. Try me.

Leo stayed inches from her all night, scanning the exits, watching the crowd like a soldier not a CEO.

> "Do you see him?" she asked under her breath.

> "Not yet."

> "You're paranoid."

> "I'm not paranoid," he said. "I'm angry."

> "Why?"

> "Because someone thinks they can touch what's mine."

She turned to him, startled by the fire in his voice.

> "Yours?" she echoed.

> "Until this is over, yes. Mine."

Before she could snap back, a waiter brushed too close. Champagne tipped.

Right onto her bare shoulder.

Leo was on him in a blink grabbing the man by the collar, slamming him back against the service wall behind the curtain.

> "You think this is cute?" Leo hissed. "Accidentally bumping her?"

> "I-I sir, I didn't "

Leo's fist curled.

Amelia appeared beside him and grabbed his arm.

> "Enough."

> "He had a wire," Leo growled.

The man's tray hit the floor. A small black device clattered out.

Microphone. Hidden.

Amelia's blood ran cold.

Back in the car, Leo didn't speak.

His hand was clenched around hers. Protective. Desperate. She didn't pull away.

> "You'd kill for me," she said.

> "Without hesitation."

> "Why?"

He looked at her. Raw. Vulnerable in a way she'd never seen.

> "Because no one's ever protected me either."

The silence between them crackled.

> "I'm not used to feeling wanted," she said, voice soft.

> "I don't want you," he said.

She looked at him.

> "I need you."

She kissed him first.

This time it wasn't brutal.

It was slow. Searing. Like peeling back skin.

He kissed her like he'd drown if he stopped.

Back in the suite, Amelia poured wine while Leo showered. Her phone buzzed.

Blocked number.

One message.

> You're looking in the wrong direction.

A second one followed. A file attached.

Amelia clicked it.

The screen flickered. Footage played.

Chloe.

Her best friend.

Sneaking out of Amelia's private office.

Taking a folder labeled "Merger B: Private Terms – Legal Only."

> "No," Amelia whispered. "No, that's not "

Leo walked out, towel around his waist.

He froze when he saw her face.

> "What happened?"

She turned the screen toward him.

> "We've been looking outside," she whispered. "But it's coming from the inside."

> "Who is it?"

Her voice broke for the first time.

> "Chloe."

"Chloe wouldn't betray me."

Amelia's voice was flat but her body told another story. She stood frozen in the center of the penthouse, silk robe half tied, a wine glass untouched in her hand.

The screen still glowed.

Leo crossed the room slowly, still towel-clad, water dripping from his hair, his gaze locked on hers.

> "I know what I saw."

> "It doesn't make sense."

> "She was holding confidential merger terms, Amelia. That file never left your private archive. How did she even get in?"

> "She's had my passcode for years. Before all this started." Her lips pressed together. "Before you."

Leo took the glass from her fingers and set it down.

> "We don't know why she took it."

> "No," Amelia said. "But I know how this game works. You don't take leverage unless you're planning to use it."

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Leo moved closer.

> "Say the word and I'll handle it."

> "No," she said quickly. "If this leaks, it'll kill what's left of the deal and the press will eat it alive. Chloe was seen with me last week at the Vance negotiation brunch."

Leo ran a hand through his damp hair, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

> "Then we play it quietly."

> "She's like a sister to me, Leo."

> "Then we find out what she's playing at before she turns the knife."

She sank into the corner of the velvet couch, burying her face in her hands. For the first time since this game started, Amelia Roth looked breakable.

Leo didn't speak.

He sat beside her, said nothing, just placed a steady hand on her knee.

After a long minute, she whispered

> "This is what I was raised to expect. Loyalty doesn't exist. Love isn't real. Everyone trades something."

> "Not everyone."

> "You would trade me," she said bitterly.

> "I already did once," he said, voice rough. "I won't do it again."

That silence hit harder than anything else. Truth without apology.

> "I don't want to trust you," she whispered.

> "Too late."

She looked up.

And that was when the knock came.

Three short raps.

They both froze.

Leo stood, tension coiled like wire.

> "Did you order anything?"

> "No."

> "Expect anyone?"

> "Just " Amelia swallowed. "Chloe."

Leo's hand slid into the drawer beneath the kitchen island. He pulled out the security pistol.

Loaded it without blinking.

> "Let me answer the door."

Leo cracked the door open just enough to see.

It was Chloe.

Her eyes were red. Mascara smudged. She looked exhausted.

> "Is Amelia here?" Her voice was small.

> "What do you want?"

> "I need to talk to her. Please."

> "About what?"

> "About something I did." Her voice broke. "Something I shouldn't have done."

Leo studied her for a long beat, then turned to Amelia.

> "Your call."

Amelia hesitated. Her fingers clenched the edge of the couch.

Then

> "Let her in."

Chloe stepped in slowly. She looked around like she expected to be hit with a lawsuit.

> "I wasn't going to sell it," she said immediately. "The file. I just I panicked."

> "You stole my private merger terms," Amelia said. "From my locked archive. For what, Chloe? Leverage? Revenge?"

> "No," Chloe said, shaking her head. "It wasn't for me."

> "Then who?" Leo asked, arms folded.

> "He said it was to protect you."

> "He who?"

Chloe's face twisted.

> "He said if I didn't give him the file, he'd leak what he had on Amelia."

> "Who. Chloe."

Her voice dropped.

> "Olivia Kane's backer."

Silence.

Then Chloe met Amelia's gaze.

> "It's your father."

> "No," Amelia said, voice sharp. "That's impossible."

> "He doesn't want Olivia to win," Chloe whispered. "He just doesn't want you to win either."

Amelia didn't say anything for a long time.

She just stared at Chloe, the words It's your father echoing in her skull like a gunshot fired in velvet.

Her spine remained straight. Her jaw locked in place. But her eyes those sharp, steel eyes had gone hollow.

> "You're sure?" she asked finally. Her voice was calm. Too calm.

Chloe nodded, wringing her hands.

> "He reached out through Olivia's handler, an intermediary. I didn't know it was him at first. But the voice. The phrasing. I've worked in your house too long not to recognize the man behind the curtain."

Amelia turned to Leo.

He was already watching her. Already bracing for the collapse.

> "Out," she said softly, to Chloe. "Now."

> "Amelia, I "

> "I said out."

Chloe opened her mouth, then closed it. She nodded, slowly, eyes rimmed with guilt, and left.

The door clicked shut.

Silence. Thick and suffocating.

Amelia didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Then, with clinical precision, she walked over to the bar cart, poured herself a glass of Macallan, and downed it in one go.

Leo stepped closer.

> "You don't have to hold it together."

> "Yes, I do."

> "Not with me."

That broke something.

Her shoulders trembled. Her grip faltered.

> "He taught me everything," she whispered. "How to win. How to lead. How to kill a deal with a smile."

She looked at Leo then, eyes glassy with something she hated admitting.

> "He never taught me how to survive being disposable."

Leo moved fast.

No words.

He wrapped her in his arms, and for the first time since she was a child, Amelia Roth let herself fall into someone else.

Not because she was weak.

Because she was tired of being unbreakable.

His hands slid up her back.

Her head pressed against his chest.

He didn't try to fix it.

He just held her.

> "I've got you," he said. "Even if he never did."

A beat passed.

Then her voice came, small, tight, wrapped in everything she never let anyone see:

> "I think I hate him."

> "You don't," Leo said gently. "But you will."