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Then her expression softened.

“No, you couldn’t.”

Something in Vivienne’s chest tightened.

Once, that might have sounded like a challenge.

Now she understood it for what it was.

Leo could not be bought.

Could not be commanded into loving her.

Could not be secured through contracts or money or power.

She stayed because she chose to.

Every day.

Just as Vivienne did.

“No,” Vivienne agreed quietly. “I couldn’t.”

Leo brushed her thumb across Vivienne’s cheek.

The air shifted.

It did that sometimes.

Their teasing would soften without warning, revealing what had always existed underneath it.

Something fierce.

Something terrifying.

Something permanent.

Leo kissed her once more, gently this time.

“Coffee?”

Vivienne sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

They took it outside.

The house had been Vivienne’s idea, although Leo had been the one to insist that they look beyond Paris.

Vivienne had resisted at first.

Paris was business. Routine. Identity.

Her home there had been an extension of the life she had constructed: elegant, secure, impressive and perfectly controlled.

But they wanted something that belonged to both of them.

Not Vivienne’s house with Leo living in it.