The sleek lines of Leo's Manhattan penthouse glinted under the early morning sun. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline like a painting, the glass kissed with dew. Inside, silence reigned—sterile, cool, but hiding undercurrents of brewing tension.
Leonardo Maddox Cross, thirty-five, six-foot-three, sharp jawline shadowed with a day's stubble, stood alone at the edge of his study. He wore a charcoal wool suit jacket over a black shirt, no tie. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the fine ink on his wrist—a number. A date. Burned into him. He stared at his monitor, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping a coffee mug he hadn't sipped from in over an hour.
Ariana Blake had been framed.
Leo had the evidence now—he just hadn't told her.
It started with a flagged email chain. His cybersecurity chief, a no-nonsense former NSA analyst named Tyla Monroe, had called at 2:04 a.m.
"Sir, I traced the leak about your merger to a false internal IP. Someone planted metadata in Ariana Blake's cloud folder. It was done remotely, using access credentials from the investor meetings two weeks ago."
Leo's eyes had narrowed. "Who?"
Tyla hesitated. "Jonas Riven. Valtrex board member. He's been betting against the merger privately. If it fails, he profits."
Leo had hung up without another word.
Now, he stood still, thinking. Calculating.
Riven wasn't just greedy—he was dangerous. A smooth-talking billionaire with too many friends in the media, and just enough plausible deniability to slither out of any trap.
And he'd used Ariana as bait.
Leo's jaw clenched. His instincts screamed at him to fix this surgically, without emotion. But this time… emotion was the problem. Ariana wasn't just his business partner anymore. She'd become the one person he allowed past his defenses. The person he kissed like he meant it. The woman he'd held when her body trembled in the middle of a storm.
And now?
Now the look in her eyes—confused, hurt—played on a loop in his mind.
She didn't know she'd been framed.
And she didn't know he was keeping that truth from her.
Because if he told her, she'd run. And he wasn't ready to let her go. Not yet.
Leo turned from the window and walked down the hallway, his polished shoes silent on the oak floors. The scent of roasted coffee lingered in the air, but the penthouse still felt hollow. Ariana had left early that morning to meet with a friend—without telling him. Something had shifted since the island.
Since the kiss.
Since the distance he'd tried to put between them again.
He deserved her mistrust. But dammit, he wanted to protect her.
And that meant handling Riven his way.
---
Meanwhile, Ariana stood inside a cozy downtown café, miles away from the glittering skyscraper she'd started calling home.
The café was small, tucked on a side street in Chelsea. Chalkboard menus hung above a glass case of pastries. The walls were exposed brick, warm and welcoming, dotted with art from local creators. A vanilla-lavender candle burned behind the counter.
Ariana, twenty-nine, stood five-foot-seven, her auburn hair tied up in a soft knot, loose curls framing her heart-shaped face. She wore a denim jacket over a vintage white tee, high-waisted black jeans, and ankle boots worn from overuse. Her dark eyes were shadowed with sleeplessness.
Across from her sat Sadie Cruz, Ariana's best friend since college. Sadie wore wide-rimmed glasses and a bright yellow sundress that defied the chill in the April air.
"So you're telling me," Sadie said, leaning forward, "the leak that nearly torpedoed the deal was traced back to your files?"
Ariana nodded slowly. Her hands trembled around the ceramic mug. "Leo won't say it, but his tone changed. Something's… different. He's pulling away again."
Sadie raised an eyebrow. "Maybe because he thinks you leaked it?"
"I don't know. He hasn't said it out loud. But I see it in his eyes. That doubt. And I can't blame him."
"That's bull. You've done nothing wrong. And if he doesn't trust you, then screw him. He's a trillionaire, not God."
Ariana let out a shaky laugh. "You make it sound so easy."
"Because it should be. You've already put yourself on the line, Ariana. You live with the guy. You defended him at that awful gala. You kissed him. Don't roll your eyes, I know."
Ariana looked away. "It wasn't supposed to feel real."
Sadie softened. "And yet it does."
They sat in silence, the hum of the café around them. A couple laughed softly in the corner. A waitress passed with a tray of bagels. Life moved on.
But inside Ariana, something twisted. The old doubt. The fear. That maybe she'd let herself believe in something that was never real.
She looked out the window. Raindrops had started to fall, soft and slow.
"I should go," she murmured.
Sadie frowned. "You sure?"
Ariana nodded. "I need to clear my head."
---
Back at Cross Tower, Leo paced.
He dialed Tyla again.
"Move forward with the blackout. Disable Jonas Riven's access to our servers. Quietly. No public alerts."
"Copy."
"And Tyla—forward the evidence to my private legal counsel. I want leverage. In case he tries to spin this."
"Yes, sir."
Leo ended the call and looked out over the city again.
Below him, people looked like ants. Tiny and unbothered.
His world, however, was about to detonate.
He hadn't told Ariana because she didn't need more chaos. She deserved peace. Protection. She didn't need to know how cruel the boardroom could be.
But he also hadn't told her because of something else.
Fear.
If she knew, she'd realize just how many enemies he had. She'd realize the shadows he lived in. The ones he invited in willingly.
And she'd leave.
Like everyone else had.
Leo walked into the bedroom they now shared—still with two separate closets, still with a polite, guarded distance between their routines—and sat on the edge of the bed.
The pillow she slept on was slightly indented, her scent still clinging to the silk case.
Vanilla and rain.
He buried his face in his hands.
---
Hours later, Ariana stepped into the penthouse. Her clothes were damp from walking in the drizzle, her boots heavy on the floor. She didn't expect Leo to be home. He often disappeared into meetings this time of day.
But today, he was standing in the kitchen. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Two glasses of scotch waiting.
She froze.
He turned slowly. His eyes met hers—blue-gray, unreadable, but less guarded than she'd expected.
"I had them dig up the truth," he said quietly.
Ariana's stomach twisted. "About what?"
"The leak. It wasn't you."
Her knees went weak.
He moved forward, slowly, like he wasn't sure how she'd react. "It was planted. Your cloud access was cloned. Someone tried to frame you."
She stared at him. "And you believed them."
"No." His jaw flexed. "I doubted. For a second. That's on me."
A silence fell between them.
"You should've told me," she said softly.
"I was trying to protect you."
She laughed bitterly. "From what? The truth? Or your own guilt?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Both."
Ariana shook her head. "Leo—"
"I've dealt with Riven. Quietly. The board won't hear of it. The merger's back on track."
"I don't care about the merger," she said, voice rising. "I care that you didn't trust me. That you pulled away when I needed you close."
He took a step forward. "I've never done this before."
"What? Trusted someone?"
"Needed someone."
That silenced her.
He exhaled. "You make me feel things I've buried for years. Things I swore I'd never feel again."
Ariana's voice dropped. "Then say them."
He looked at her, searching.
But the words didn't come.
Of course they didn't.
She nodded once, like she'd known this would happen.
Then she turned and walked down the hallway, shutting the door behind her.
---
Late that night, Leo sat alone in the study again.
Outside, the storm had cleared. But inside him, everything still raged.
He opened the drawer beside him and pulled out a photograph. Two boys on a dock, laughing, arms around each other.
One of them was Leo. The other—Caleb, his younger brother. Gone now.
Lost to recklessness. To Leo's own mistake.
"I wasn't there when you needed me," he whispered to the photo. "But I'm here now. I won't mess this up."
He looked toward the hallway.
Toward Ariana's room.
And for the first time, Leonardo Maddox Cross didn't think like a CEO.
He thought like a man about to lose the only woman who ever made him feel like home.
---