POV Leo "You told Amber." The words drop between us like a weight, and I watch the effect land on her instantly. Her shoulders stiffen, her posture tightening in the passenger seat. She shifts in place like the seatbelt has transformed into a choke chain, keeping her locked in and uncomfortable. Her gaze flickers to the window as if the passing streetlights might offer her an escape, then back toward me-but never quite meeting my eyes. "Well... not in details," she says finally, her voice smooth but edged, like she's testing how far she can push me. I settle back into my seat, deliberately giving her the space to squirm under my silence. "Not in details," I repeat slowly, letting the syllables stretch. I watch her chew the inside of her cheek-a small, telltale habit that betrays she knows she's been caught. I should still be in Brazil. That was the plan: a full weekend of closing the deal, making the right people richer, smiling for photos I'll never look at again, and drinking overpriced champagne I barely taste. But when the last contract was signed earlier than expected, I didn't even think. I told the pilot to have the jet ready. I left that night. That's not me. I don't deviate from schedule. And I sure as hell don't rush home for a woman-especially not one I've sourced into our... arrangement . But Mira isn't just another face in the crowd. "This was supposed to stay between you and us," I say evenly. "That includes brunch conversations." She exhales sharply, a mix of frustration and defiance. "Well, I can't take back what I've already said, can I?" "No." "And you never said it was confidential." "I thought you were smart enough to know it's confidential." That gets her. She turns her head toward me, finally locking eyes, and there's a dangerous spark in her gaze. "I'm smart enough to know that men like you assume their rules are universal, even when they haven't bothered to share them. If you didn't want her to know, you should've made that clear before...well that ." It's a clean hit. One I feel, though I don't let it show. I keep my expression carved in stone. "You were supposed to be out of the country until next week," she presses, her tone sharp now. "The deal finalized early," I say with a shrug, keeping it casual. "And I have commitments here." Her eyes narrow slightly. "What commitments?" "You." That stops her. Her lips part, and I can see the surprise there, though she tries to mask it with a scoff. "What do you mean, me?" "For starters, you're not allowed to talk about what's going on between us," I say. "Amber knowing is fine. I assume she's not going to scream it from the rooftops." Mira shakes her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Amber's loud, but only with me. She knows her limits. That's one of the reasons I love her." "Good." I pause, making sure she's looking at me. "At work, we're professional-completely. Once you're alone with me-or us-you can do whatever you want. But I'm not giving HR a reason to start breathing down my neck." She nods slowly, considering that. Then her head tilts, a shadow of curiosity in her eyes. "So... it wasn't a one-time thing?" I give her a long, deliberate look. "No. What makes you think that?" "I don't know," she admits, leaning back. "Maybe because this feels like something you'd try once and then walk away from." "You're ours now," I say plainly. Her mouth curves into something between a smirk and a challenge. "I'm not a thing you can own, you know." "Don't see it like ownership," I tell her. "See it like... a very expensive piece of art with multiple stakeholders. Something rare. Something that requires constant care." Her lips twitch like she's holding back a laugh. "So I'm art now?" "Something like that," I murmur. The car slows as we turn onto her street. The engine hums softly, but the silence between us is taut-charged with an energy I can't shake. I park in front of her place and kill the engine. The night air is cooler when I step out, and I circle the car to open her door. She hesitates for half a second before taking my hand, and I guide her out. My palm rests lightly on the small of her back as we walk up the steps, that same electric tension still there. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she says, looking up at me. Before she can reach for the doorknob, the door swings open. Her father stands there, polished and controlled, like he's been expecting this moment. "Leo," he greets, a small, measured smile on his face. "Come in." Mira blinks, eyes flicking between us. "Uh-" "I have a meeting with your father," I tell her, watching the way confusion colors her expression. She lingers for a second, clearly trying to piece together what that means, before turning and starting up the stairs. I follow her with my eyes the entire way-the slow sway of her hair over her shoulder, the stubborn set of her spine. She had a way of getting under my skin in the car, and that same defiance follows her up the steps now. She makes me uneasy. Not because she's innocent, but because she doesn't bend. She doesn't slot neatly into my expectations. I push it to the back of my mind as her father gestures toward his office. My shoes are silent against the polished floor as I follow him inside. The door closes with a solid click, sealing the room-and everything unspoken-inside.