16. Leo
16
Leo
T he polished glass walls of the conference room feel like a fucking cage.
Forty-ninth floor, Maxwell it’s just cooled, hardened into something sharp and dangerous.
She hid my child.
For twenty goddamn months.
Lied.
Deceived.
Built her little life around this massive fucking secret.
“I want full custody,” I bite out, the words tasting like metal. “She doesn’t get to dictate terms after pulling this shit.”
Victoria raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Leo, a primary custody battle against a mother with no prior history of neglect, who has been the sole caregiver since birth… it’s an uphill battle. Extremely expensive. And the optics…”
“Fuck the optics!” I slam my hand on the table, ignoring the jolt of pain up my arm. Only eleven months ago that entire arm and shoulder were shattered.
“This isn’t about PR, Victoria,” I continue. “This is about my daughter. My daughter.” The possessiveness still feels strange, unfamiliar, but potent. “Sabrina played games. Now the games are over.”
“We can certainly file aggressive motions,” Vale assures me smoothly, ever the predator sensing a kill. “Demand immediate shared parenting time, petition for naming rights, challenge her sole decision-making authority…”
My phone buzzes on the table, loud in the quiet tension of the room. I glance down.
Dom.
Fucking perfect timing.
I snatch it up, answering with barely concealed irritation, keeping my voice low but sharp. “Dom, bad time. Call you back. I just found out I’m a father.”
“Wait, what? ” Dom’s voice comes through. “Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter where I am,” I hiss, acutely aware of the lawyers watching me. “Look, I’m dealing with it. I have my lawyers here right now. Call me back tonight.” I make to disconnect.
“Whoa, whoa, lawyers, too?” Dom’s voice sharpens, losing its usual calm. “No fucking way you’re hanging up now, Leo. What lawyers? What are you doing? Step out of that room, now .”
His insistence, that sudden shift to command mode, stops me cold. He’s serious. And maybe, just maybe, he’s the only person who can talk me off this particular ledge right now.
Fuck.
I lower the phone slightly, meeting the curious gazes of Victoria, Peterson, and Vale.
“Need to take this after all,” I say, my voice tight. I push back from the table, grabbing my cane. “Give me ten minutes.”
Without waiting for a reply, I limp out of the conference room, pulling the heavy door shut behind me.
I raise the phone back to my ear as I head down the hall towards the alcove.
“Okay, Dom,” I sigh, the anger momentarily eclipsed by a wave of sheer, overwhelming WTF. “You’ve got ten minutes before I potentially authorize World War Three.”
“Start talking, Leo,” Dom commands. “Father? Lawyers? What the hell happened?”
I lean against the cool glass, staring down at the city that suddenly feels alien. “I had a meeting with a PR consultant Luca recommended,” I begin, the words feeling surreal. “Turns out, by a stroke of luck, she’s the girl from Vegas. Sabrina Taylor. The one I couldn’t fucking remember clearly? And she has a kid. An eleven-month-old kid with my fucking eyes.”
Silence on the other end. Then, a low whistle. “Holy shit, Leo. Seriously?”
“Deadly serious.”
“And the kid… it’s yours? Confirmed?”
“Timeline fits. Eyes don’t lie. She admitted it.” The rage simmers again just thinking about it. “Kept her hidden for twenty months, Dom.”
“Okay,” Dom says slowly. “Okay, first, breathe. Second, where are you now?”
“As I said, meeting with my lawyers. Discussing custody arrangements. Full custody, preferably.”
“Leo, stop,” Dom sounds alarmed. “Whatever you’re planning, just stop. Don’t do anything rash.”
“Rash?” I laugh, a harsh, humorless sound. “She hid my daughter, Dom! What’s rash about demanding my rights?”
“Because going in guns blazing is the worst possible fucking move right now,” he says urgently. “Trust me on this. Think about the kid, Leo. What’s her name?”
I pause. “Mia.” Saying her name feels… strange. Solid .
“Think about Mia,” Dom says. “You want her first experience of having a father to be a fucking courtroom battle? Lawyers tearing her mother apart? Is that the foundation you want to build?”
“But her mother lied to me!” I shout into the phone, the anger boiling over again.
“And this was today?” he asks.
“Yes, just before I got back to the office,” I reply.
“And I bet you handled finding out with your usual calm, diplomatic grace, right?” Dom counters sarcastically. “Judging by the fact you jumped straight from ‘father’ to ‘lawyers’ in under five minutes, I’m guessing you probably stormed out of your meeting with her making threats and acting like a world-class asshole. Because you were hurt, blindsided, angry. Fine. Understandable, even. But that’s not how you treat the mother of your child, especially not five seconds after discovering she exists. Not if you actually want to be a father, not just win some pissing contest legal battle. Trust me, from one father to another, you can’t act this way.”
His words hit harder than they should. Because he’s right. Even without knowing the exact words exchanged, he knows me . He knows how I react when cornered, when my control slips.
I was a fucking asshole to her. Driven by rage and that bruised ego from Vegas, from the blackout, from her disappearing act that morning. And now… this. The consequences hitting me square in the face.
“So what do I do, then?” I ask, my voice tight. “I just… let her call the shots? Let her keep controlling the narrative?”
“No. You talk to her. Like a human being. Figure out a way forward that doesn’t involve mutually assured destruction. You want access? You want to be involved? Then show her you can be someone Mia needs in her life, not just another fucking disaster zone.” He sighs. “Look, I know it’s not easy. Tatiana and I… we started in chaos. The Vegas insanity, remember? An accidental marriage we were supposed to annul.”
“Yeah, so why didn’t you annul?” The question surprises me. I never asked before. Never cared.
Dom is quiet for a moment. “Because somewhere in that mess… I realized she was the best damn thing that ever happened to me. Because I fell in love with her. Because building something real was better than a hollow billion dollar victory or sticking to the original, stupid plan.” He pauses again. “You think showing up with lawyers is going to make Sabrina trust you? Or want you anywhere near Mia?”
Trust.
The word hangs there. She doesn’t trust me. And why the fuck should she? My track record isn’t exactly stellar. Playboy. Risk-taker. Emotionally unavailable billionaire.
Hell, I barely trust myself.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my temple where a headache is starting to bloom.
“Yeah, fuck ,” Dom agrees gently. “Call off the lawyers, Leo. For now. Talk to Sabrina first. Try to find common ground. For Mia’s sake. For your sake.”
Common ground. With the woman who kept her hidden from me for almost two years? What kind of person even does that?
It feels impossible. But the image of those green eyes... Mia’s eyes... my eyes... staring out from the crib…
Dom’s right .
Starting this with a legal war is scorched earth. Nothing good can grow from there.
“Okay,” I say finally, the word tasting like surrender. Or maybe just exhaustion. “Okay, Dom. I’ll… I’ll try.”
“Good. Call me later. Anytime.” He hangs up.
I stand there for another minute, staring sightlessly at the skyline.
Common ground.
Right.
I limp back towards the conference room.
Peterson, Vale, and Victoria look up expectantly as I enter.
“Change of plans,” I announce curtly, not sitting down. “Hold off on filing anything. All actions are on pause until further notice. Send me the preliminary research on parental rights in New York, but no direct engagement yet. I’ll be in touch.”
They exchange surprised, slightly frustrated glances, but years of dealing with demanding clients mean they mask it well. They still get paid by the hour, so I’m sure they don’t really give that much of a flying fuck anyway.
“As you wish, Mr. Maxwell,” Peterson says smoothly.
I nod once and turn, heading for the elevators.
When I’m inside the silent steel box, the doors glide shut.
Alone. Just the hum of the elevator ascending to the 50th floor.
My floor.
My kingdom.
The doors open onto the quiet executive reception. I head left, toward my office, and stride past Michelle’s station. She looks up from her desk, a question in her eyes.
“Michelle, hold all calls,” I tell her.
She nods.
I enter my office, the door hissing shut behind me. I engage the lock.
Finally fucking alone again.
But not alone anymore, am I?
Now there’s Mia.
I’m a father.
I cross to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and gaze down upon the city. From here, the city looks almost like a glittering, complicated circuit board.
“I’m a father,” I mutter again.
The words echo in the vast, empty space of the office.
A fucking father.
Me.
The guy who avoids commitment like it’s radioactive. The guy whose relationships have the shelf life of milk. The guy who gets his kicks jumping off cliffs.
God, she was right to be scared.
Everything she threw at me… it was true.
Maybe exaggerated, maybe viewed through the lens of her own issues, but fundamentally true.
I am reckless.
I am unstable in ways that matter.
What was that she said?
“How could I set her up to wait for a dad who might disappear off the face of the earth, as in literally, at any moment? Just like mine did?”
Just like hers did. She has her own father issues, as I have mine, apparently.
Still, I wish she’d told me about Mia.
The thought resurfaces, this time with less anger and more… regret? Because if I’m being truthful with myself, if I had known, would it really have changed anything? Would I have stepped up?
Or would I have run? Offered money, an NDA, made the problem disappear? Become the father she feared?
I honestly don’t fucking know. And that scares me more than any cliff jump ever did.
My phone vibrates on the desk where I dropped it. A text message. Unknown number.
Hesitantly, I pick it up.
Leo, it’s Sabrina Taylor. Luca’s assistant, Vivian Wong, gave me your number. I understand you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I made choices based on fear, and perhaps I was wrong. But Mia is innocent in this. Before lawyers get involved and things escalate, perhaps we could establish some preliminary ground rules? For Mia’s sake. I’m open to discussing access, supervised at first, maybe here at the apartment where she’s comfortable. Escalating this legally will be stressful for Mia and I, and frankly, could prove very expensive for you in terms of long-term support costs.
So there it is… an opening. An offer to talk. Still, there’s that last line… a veiled threat...
Could prove very expensive for you.
My first instinct is to lash out again.
Who the fuck does she think she’s threatening?
Then Dom’s voice echoes in my head.
Going in guns blazing is the worst possible fucking move.
I threatened her first. With lawyers, with custody battles.
She’s just playing the hand I dealt her, trying to protect her daughter. Protect our daughter.
I take a few deep breaths.
I can do the whole less aggression thing.
I can seek out common ground.
For Mia.
I type back, my thumbs feeling clumsy. Everything feels clumsy, since the accident.
Fine. Preliminary rules. My place first. Supervised. We can discuss terms. And Sabrina... about the PR job. I was angry. Out of line. The offer stands. Maxwell & Briggs still needs someone good. Please send the proposal. I’ll wire a 10k retainer upfront.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Offering her the job back? Offering upfront cash? What the fuck am I doing?
She needs it.
Her apartment, the home office setup… it wasn’t poverty, but it wasn’t luxurious either. She’s bootstrapping this business while raising Mia alone. Because of me.
And it’s not like I can’t afford to help her.
My phone buzzes almost instantly.
Yes. To both. Thank you, Leo. Let me know when you want to schedule the first visit.
My lips twist as I read the last word.
Visit.
Like I’m a fucking distant relative.
I sigh.
Less aggression. Less aggression.
I tell myself it’s a start. A crack of light in the wreckage.
I sink into my chair, staring out at the city again. It looks different now. Not just a playground or a battlefield or a circuit board.
But the city where my daughter lives.
My daughter.
I still feel angry. Confused. Terrified out of my goddamn mind.
But underneath it all, something else is stirring.
Something... unfamiliar .
Not just possessiveness.
But something protective.
Fuck.
This changes everything.