I tell myself I’m strong enough to outlast him. I tell myself I still have choices. But when I look down and see nothing but empty street and fading headlights, I know something has shifted—something I can’t undo, something that will haunt me every night until the wedding, and maybe long after.
***
I don’t sleep.
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling as the city hums below, every sound suddenly suspect. A car door. Footsteps. The distant wail of sirens. I catalog them all, instincts flaring whether I want them to or not. I check the locks twice. Then a third time. I hate myself for it.
When I finally close my eyes, Leon is there—uninvited, unrelenting. Not shouting. Not threatening. Just watching. Letting me move. Letting me believe I’m choosing something for myself. That’s the part that twists the knife deepest.
This isn’t about fear anymore. It’s about containment.
He didn’t drag me home. He delivered me.
I roll onto my side, fingers digging into the pillow, jaw tight. Two weeks. I won’t survive them by pretending this is fine.If he thinks proximity equals ownership, if he thinks patience will tame me, he’s made a mistake.
Chapter Fourteen - Leon
The wedding is a masterpiece of spectacle, all gleaming white and cold gold, every detail calculated to signal power and peace. The church is packed—bosses, allies, enemies dressed as friends. The press is shut out, but the city will hear every detail before dawn. I stand at the altar, back straight, suit flawless, a ring heavy in my pocket.
Suzy enters on her father’s arm—head high, jaw locked, eyes like a challenge.
She looks every inch the daughter of Marcus White: poised, exquisite, unbreakable. But I can see the lines drawn tight around her mouth, the tension in her shoulders. Each step she takes feels less like a procession and more like a sentence.
She glances at me only once, her gaze a mix of dread, defiance, and something that makes my own heart beat faster—anger, yes, but also an electric, dangerous thrill.
The vows are recited, the audience breathless, waiting for some sign that the old war isn’t truly over. When the priest finally nods, gives me leave to kiss my bride, I pause. Our faces are so close that her breath stirs the hair at my temple. She’s braced for me to claim her right here, in front of the whole city. To stake my victory, mark her as mine.
Instead, I lean in, letting my lips hover at her ear, and whisper, “Later.”
I feel the shudder that runs through her, see the heat and fury flash in her eyes. The crowd erupts with applause—some relieved, some disappointed. Marcus smiles, pride and calculation mingling. Her brothers won’t meet my gaze. I file it all away.
The reception is a minefield dressed as a celebration. Crystal clinks, champagne flows, toasts are offered with forced cheer. Every handshake, every congratulation, is a negotiation—who gains, who loses, who waits for the alliance to crack.
Suzy moves through the room with careful grace, but I never let her drift too far. I see the way people look at her, the hunger, the envy, the resentment. I see the way her hands curl into fists when someone wishes her happiness she doesn’t want.
I don’t let her out of my sight. I memorize the way she presses her lips together, the tilt of her chin, the defiance she hides under that elegant facade. Every glance we share is a conversation—what’s left unsaid, what’s burning just beneath the surface. She’s a live wire, and I can’t stop watching.
Her brothers finally approach, stiff and bitter.
“Congratulations,” they say, words brittle, eyes cold.
They look at Suzy as if she’s betrayed them, but I know their anger is for me—because I got what they never could, because I made a deal they would never dare. Suzy takes it all in, spine straight, never flinching.
Hours later, when the crowd thins and the city turns away, I lead her to the suite prepared for us—a room with roses, champagne, and an immense, empty bed. The door closes with a hush that’s almost reverent.
For a moment, we stand on opposite sides of the room, breathing hard, the weight of the day pressing down. She turns on me with sudden, wild energy, eyes blazing.
“Why me?” she demands, her voice sharp, almost breaking. “Why this? You think you can just buy a future and never pay for it? What makes you so sure you can have all of me and never lose?”
The words hit like thrown glass. I feel her anger, her fear, the raw ache of a woman who has been used by everyone she’s ever loved. I don’t flinch. I let her speak, watch her pace, watch her shake.
When she finally falls silent, glaring, I cross the space between us in two steps. I reach out, tracing a fingertip along her jaw, her cheek. She shivers, refuses to look away.
“You think I wanted this for power?” I say, voice low, just for her. “You’re wrong. I wanted it because you’re the only person who ever made me feel alive. I’d burn every deal, every alliance, for the chance to see you fight me, every day, for the rest of our lives.”
She breathes in, ragged, uncertain. I can see her fighting the urge to hit me, to kiss me, to run. I touch her wrist, feel her pulse, let my thumb linger where she can’t pretend not to feel it.
“You don’t belong to anyone, Suzy,” I whisper. “Not your father. Not me. I want you, all the same.”
