Chapter Twenty - Leon
One of the senior staff inform me that Suzy is snooping in my office. I leave it just long enough she thinks she’s gotten away with it, before I summon her.
The moment I step into my office, I know something is wrong. The air feels different—charged, as if the room itself is holding its breath.
Suzy sits on the edge of my desk, legs swinging idly, skirt slipping up over her knees. She looks up at me with a smile that is not a smile at all—a flash of teeth, a warning, a dare. Her eyes are bright with something I can’t quite name: mischief, maybe, or the edge of something darker.
I close the door quietly, the click loud in the hush. I don’t cross to her yet, watching instead, as if she’s some wild animal I might spook, or might bite if I get too close. I can’t read her—her expression is carefully arranged, all indifference and subtle threat.
“Did you need something yesterday?” I ask, voice flat and measured. I force myself not to show the tension winding through my body.
She shrugs, picks up a pen from the desk, and twirls it between her fingers. “Just a novel,” she says, her tone light, a mockery of domesticity. “You work too much, Leon. Isn’t this what you wanted? All your enemies at bay, a perfect wife to keep your desk tidy and your bed warm?”
There’s a glitter in her eyes, something sharp and sly. Every time I try to get a read on her, she slips away, answering questions with questions, letting silence stretch until I’m forced to fill it.
She’s playing with me—baiting me, prodding at my patience, always just out of reach. The undercurrent is unmistakable: she’s hiding something, and she wants me to know it.
I take a slow step closer, refusing to be rattled. “You’ve never kept anything tidy in your life,” I murmur, letting my gaze travel over her, daring her to flinch. “I’m not sure about the wife part.”
She grins, teeth flashing. “Maybe you should’ve read the fine print.”
Her teasing is a blade, and I can’t help but let it slide beneath my skin. Every word she throws is a challenge, every shift of her body calculated to provoke.
I see her glance at the drawer she shouldn’t know about, the faint tremor in her hand when she sets the pen down, the restless swing of her ankles. I know she’s avoiding something, but I don’t know what—and it drives me wild.
I move closer, bracing my hands on the desk on either side of her hips, trapping her in place. She leans back on her palms, crossing her ankles, eyes flicking up at me from under her lashes.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I say, my voice low and dangerous, a warning and a promise.
She only smirks, tilting her head so our faces are a breath apart. “You like danger,” she whispers, lips almost brushing mine. Her defiance sparks something in me: hot, fierce, impossible to resist. I should step back, demand the truth, force her to confess whatever it is she’s hiding.
The tension snaps. I catch her by the waist, dragging her flush against me, forcing her thighs apart so I can step between them.
She laughs, breathless and wild, and wraps her arms around my neck, yanking me down until my mouth crashes against hers. There’s nothing soft in the way we kiss—no caution, no restraint. Just hunger, dark and urgent, a need that drowns out thought.
Her hands are in my hair, nails biting my scalp, her legs locking around my hips. I grip her thighs, hiking her skirt higher, baring smooth skin to my touch. She’s molten beneath me, heat and danger and everything I’ve ever wanted to possess.
I shove the papers and pens aside, the desk trembling beneath us, my hands slipping under her skirt to grip the bare curve of her ass.
She meets me with matching ferocity, kissing me back hard, biting at my lip, her breath hot and uneven.
Suzy breaks away just long enough to murmur, “Go on, then. Show me what you want, Leon.”
I don’t need another invitation. My mouth is at her throat, kissing, biting, leaving marks I hope will last. I drag her panties down, tearing them from her hips in one rough movement, tossing them aside.
My fingers find her slick and ready, and I press two inside her without preamble, curling to find the spot that makes her gasp and arch, her nails scoring lines into my shoulders.
“You’re soaked for me,” I growl, voice raw. “Is that what you want… to drive me insane until I can’t think of anything but this?”
She throws her head back, laughing, her hair spilling over the desk. “Maybe I want you out of control,” she whispers, legs tightening around my waist. “Maybe I want you to lose yourself.”
I pull my belt open, freeing myself, the ache almost painful now. I drag her to the edge of the desk, holding her wide, lining myself up and thrusting into her in one hard, punishing stroke.
She moans, loud and unguarded, her heels digging into my back as I fill her, stretch her, claim her all over again.
The rhythm is frantic, desperate, my hips slamming against hers, the sound obscene in the hush of the office.
She’s wet, tight, perfect—clinging to me, matching me thrust for thrust, breathless curses spilling from her lips. I grip her hips so hard I know I’ll leave bruises, driving into her again and again, lost in the friction, the heat, the slick slide of her body around me.
She scratches at my back, raking nails over my skin, her voice a litany of need. “Harder,” she begs, and I give it to her, faster, deeper, until the desk rattles beneath us and the papers are a forgotten mess at our feet.
I lean down, teeth at her jaw, my breath ragged.
“Say you’re mine,” I demand, thrusting deep.
She meets my gaze, wild and unbroken. “I’m yours,” she gasps, “but you’ll never own me.”
It’s the truth—the only truth that matters. I kiss her hard, swallowing her laughter, her defiance, the wild heat that threatens to undo me.
I feel her tighten around me, her whole body seizing as she comes, shuddering and breathless, her cries muffled by my mouth.
I follow a moment later, losing myself in her, the world shrinking to nothing but the rush, the burn, the impossible relief of her.
When it’s over, I hold her there, pressed to me, both of us shaking, sweat-slick and ruined. The only thing I know for certain is that I never want to let her go.
I also know that with Suzy, there are always secrets, always games—and I want every one of them.
Suzy’s weight is soft and warm against me, her breathing slow but uneven, each exhale feathering over my collarbone.
I cradle her for a moment longer, pressing a kiss to her temple, letting her scent—salt, perfume, the faint trace of sweat—settle in my lungs.
Her cheek is damp, her lips still parted, a tiny, satisfied smile playing at the edges. She looks impossibly young like this, stripped of every mask, every line of anger and resistance. I want to hold her here forever, to keep her in this moment, untouched by the world beyond these walls.
I shift my grip and sweep her up, one arm under her knees, the other at her back. She doesn’t protest, only burrows deeper into my chest as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
I carry her to the leather couch against the wall, laying her down gently, smoothing the hair from her face. I pull off my suit jacket and drape it over her, tucking her in as if she were precious, breakable.
I think she’s already drifting, eyelids fluttering, the remnants of sleep softening her features. I sit beside her, one hand tracing the line of her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek, letting myself indulge in the kind of tenderness I’d never admit out loud.
I allow myself to really look at her—not as a captive, not as an enemy or a puzzle to solve, but as someone who’s become terrifyingly important. I study the curve of her mouth, the delicate arch of her brow, the way her hand curls in the fabric of my jacket.
There’s a wildness to her even now, in sleep—a sense that, even at her most vulnerable, she’s never truly tamed.
The silence in the room feels different now: thicker, golden, full of meaning.
My heart pounds against my ribs, not with fear, but with something raw and electric.
I try to make sense of what just happened—how we went from trading barbs and taunts to this, to a collision of mouths and bodies that left us both shaken.
She pushes me to the edge with every word, every glance, every challenge.
Then, somehow, she’s the only one who knows how to pull me back.
I want to keep her safe. That urge is a living thing, as fierce as anything I’ve ever felt. I know too well what she’s capable of—the secrets she holds, the sharpness hidden under all that softness.
For all my power, for all the ways I’ve tried to keep her here, she could still destroy me with a single choice. That possibility terrifies me. I want to trust her, to let myself believe in this fragile peace, but the stakes have never been higher. If she betrays me, I’ll never recover.
I force myself to look away, to give her the privacy of her dreams. I return to the desk, kneeling to gather the scattered papers: contracts, blueprints, the debris of the lives I manage with iron discipline.
The sharp scent of sex lingers in the air, mixing with her perfume, reminding me that nothing between us will ever be clean or simple.
I try to focus on the details. I sort through the folders, straightening the mess.
There’s a phone call I need to return—some issue with a shipment, a problem with a new security detail.
I reach for the bottom drawer, distracted, only to find it slightly ajar.
Not much, just enough to notice, just enough to stir something cold at the base of my spine.
I freeze. The drawer. I’m sure I closed it—always do, always careful, always aware of the eyes in this house.
Maybe I missed it, maybe I was in too much of a hurry. I tell myself not to be paranoid. It’s nothing. I must have left it open myself, caught up in the chaos of wanting her.
Still, my fingers linger on the handle. I scan the room and see Suzy sleeping, jacket wrapped tight around her, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
She doesn’t stir, doesn’t give any sign she’s aware of my scrutiny.
I close the drawer with deliberate care, the faint click echoing in the hush.
A thread of suspicion winds through my thoughts, refusing to unravel. I want to dismiss it—want to believe that after everything, after the way she looked at me tonight, she wouldn’t. That I can trust her. That this is real.
Still, the fear is there, quiet and relentless, whispering that all it takes is one secret, one betrayal, to bring down everything I’ve built.
I turn my attention back to the work, trying to steady my hands, to remind myself who I am. Ardaleon Sharov: boss, husband, survivor. I make decisions every day that cost men their lives. I can’t afford weakness. I can’t afford to be blindsided by hope.
Yet I can’t take my eyes off her. Even surrounded by the wreckage of our night, Suzy is the most dangerous thing in the room—the only one with the power to break me. I wonder, not for the first time, if I’d let her.
Minutes pass, maybe longer. My phone buzzes with a reminder, another obligation demanding my attention.
I turn away from the couch, making myself focus, making myself work. But the urge to wake her, to pull her back into my arms, to lose myself in her warmth again, is almost overwhelming.
I know this can’t last. I know trust, once broken, is hard to restore.