She was always the missing piece.
“That,” Leander said softly, “sounds perfect.”
But it was more than that. It was the blueprint for the next chapter of his life.
With her.
They pulled into the underground garage of his building, the familiar concrete and steel a stark contrast to the bright dreams they’d just woven. But it felt different now.
He carried their suitcases into the private elevator, his body humming with a restless, eager energy. This penthouse was no longer just a fortress. It was their launchpad. Their home. And he would fight heaven and hell to keep this feeling and this future.
The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse’s serene expanse. He set the bags down on the marble floor with a definitive thud, and then he was before her, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her firmly against him. The scent of her, mingled with sea air and promise, filled his senses.
“Welcome home, future Mrs. Drake,” he murmured, the title a brand-new, delicious heat on his tongue.
Her answer was a kiss that seared through him. It was all heat and love and thrilling excitement, emotions that matched his own. She melted into the embrace, and for a moment, there was no past and no lurking threats—only this. Her mouth on his, her body aligned with his, and a future so bright it was blinding.
Leander’s hands framed her face as he backed her gently against the cool marble of the entryway column. The weekend’s joy, the pride’s approval, the glittering promise on her finger—it all condensed into this moment, into the taste of her and the soft sound she made against his mouth.
Mine.
The first buzz against his hip, where her purse was pressed between them, was an irritant. He deepened the kiss, a silent command to ignore the outside world. They had a night ahead—a celebration of their own, slow and thorough and without interruption.
It buzzed again. And again.
A frustrated sigh escaped Camille’s lips as she broke the kiss, her forehead resting against his. “It just won’t stop.”
“Ignore it,” he growled, nuzzling the sensitive spot below her ear, his voice a low vibration meant to distract. “The world can wait until morning.”
But she was already pulling the phone from her purse, her expression shifting from dazed passion to wary recognition as she saw the screen. The name ‘Mother’ glowed like a cold ember. “It’s my mother. I haven’t spoken to her since… I should probably answer.”
Leander’s protective instincts snapped to attention. He gave a tight nod as she tapped the screen and set the phone on speaker.
“Camille? Finally.” Vivienne St. James’s voice was not warm with concern. It was sharp and crackling with displeasure. “You need to come home. Immediately. This… this stunt has gone on long enough. I see now that pushing you out was an overreaction, and it’s clearly led you into this reckless fantasy with Leander Drake.”
Leander felt Camille stiffen in his arms. His own muscles coiled, but he forced himself to stillness. This was her fight.
For now.
“It’s not a fantasy, Mother. And it’s not reckless.” Camille’s voice was clear, stronger than he’d ever heard it when speaking of her family. “I love him. And I’m marrying him. I’m becoming his partner in everything. Including his business.”
The derisive scoff from the phone was audible. “Don’t be absurd, Camille. That is not happening.”
“It is happening. You don’t get a vote. I won’t be managed anymore.”
The silence on the line was icy. When Vivienne spoke again, it was with the finality of a guillotine blade dropping. “Then you are cut off for good. The trust fund, your allowances, everything.And you will remove your remaining belongings from the penthouse by tomorrow. Consider yourself disentangled.”
Leander’s jaw clenched so tight he felt the muscle jump. He could buy this woman’s entire world ten times over and burn it for kindling. The thought was a dark, satisfying heat in his gut.
Camille, however, didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin. “Fine. I’ll be by tomorrow. And you can keep the money. It never meant anything to me compared to having parents who loved me. I’m sorry you can’t just be happy for me that I’ve found my true love, my passion, and my happiness. But I understand. Image was always your priority.”
“Leander Drake is a dangerous man,” Vivienne hissed, the word meant to wound. “Association with him tarnishes everything we’ve built. It makes us look bad.”
A laugh burst from Camille then—short, humorless, and brilliant with defiance. “Leander is dangerous. In all the right ways. But you? You’re dangerous in the worst ones. You’d choose optics over your own daughter.” Her finger stabbed the screen, ending the call.
The brave, defiant set of her shoulders crumpled. A single tear tracked through the dusting of freckles across her cheekbone, then another. The sight of it was a physical blow to Leander’s chest, a white-hot rage against the people who could make his fierce, beautiful mate cry.
He couldn’t bear it. He gathered her against him, one hand cradling the back of her head. “It’s over now. I’ll handle everything tomorrow. You won’t have to set foot in that place again.”
