Chapter 5
“ S o you found someone your parents will hate,” Serena repeated.
“Mhmm.” I popped my lip gloss in the mirror.
“And when you tell them, what do you think will happen?”
I looked at the phone. “They’ll have to deal with the public image of me with the man. They’ll have to know I’m independent and capable of having anyone I want.”
The voice on the other line was silent.
I fluffed my hair once more for good measure. Tonight was an official date—or that was how I chose to read his short text message. We’d hung out a handful of times, but they were short, stolen interactions, given our busy lives. Whatever happened tonight would be the first chance for a long, drawn-out stint of time.
“S,o creating a scandal to make them respect your dating choices?” Serena finally hedged. “I don’t have a frame of reference, but I don’t think that is how this will work.”
“It’s not going to be easy,” I admitted, tucking my phone between my shoulder and ear as I rummaged through my jewelry box. “But I'm tired of being told who to see, who to be. At least with this guy, I’m making my own choice.”
“And is this mystery man on board with being your parental rebellion tool?” Serena’s probing voice was stern.
My fingers paused on a pair of sapphire earrings. “He doesn’t exactly know about that part.”
“Anna.”
“I know, I know.” I sighed, abandoning the expensive earrings for something simpler. “But it’s not just about that anymore. He’s...different. Challenging. When I’m with him, I feel like he actually sees me.”
“Just be careful,” Serena said after a pause. “Men like that—powerful men—they’re used to getting what they want. They don’t give up control easily.”
She would know all about powerful men. Her brother ruled with an iron fist. He controlled every aspect of her life, but part of me was hoping that my rebellion would spark a similar drive in my friend. I wanted her free—partially for my own selfish reasons. And partially because Serena deserved to live a life she wanted.
“Just don’t lose yourself in trying to prove a point to your parents,” Serena continued.
I slipped in the simple pearl studs, studying my reflection. The woman looking back at me seemed different somehow—more alive, less polished. “I won’t. I promise.”
The alarm on my phone beeped, sending a jolt through me. “Time to go. Don’t want to be late.”
“Call me tomorrow with all the details,” Serena insisted before hanging up.
I took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down the emerald-green dress that hugged my curves without being too obvious. Tonight was dinner at a place of his choosing—a step up in intimacy that both thrilled and terrified me.
The grand staircase of my family home seemed endless as I descended, hoping not to run into my parents. No such luck. My father emerged from his study.
“How are things with the merger?” I asked, hoping he would talk to me for a change now that my mother wasn’t around.
He looked up from his phone and frowned. “Terrible.”
“What happened?” I insisted.
If I drove fast, I wouldn’t be late.
“A dirty businessman undercut me.” He continued walking to the garage.
I padded after him. “Who?”
With an exasperate sigh, my father paused only long enough to give me a hard look. “Collin McDougal hired Baldwin Acquisitions to do his dirty work. They bought Parkland Press right out from under me.”
“Collin McDougal and…Baldwin Acquisitions?” I gasped.
“Oh, you don’t know who they are,” my father snapped. “Just don’t go gossiping with your silly little friends. Can’t have their parents finding out. This is business, and it’s none of yours.”
A heavy thud landed on my chest, and it felt as though an iron grip squeezed the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping and struggling to inhale.
I gave my father a little wave and let him leave. I needed a few minutes to gather myself again.
“Well, I wanted someone my parents would hate….” It looked like I had picked the perfect specimen.
There would be no future with Leonard, but that had never been the plan.
As I opened the door, my heart stuttered. Why it reacted that way, I didn’t know.
I remembered the way Leonard looked at me, how he'd pushed me to think deeper about my writing, how he'd made me feel seen for perhaps the first time in my life. Not as Annaliese Hertz the heiress, not as a daughter with obligations, but as Anna.
“This changes nothing,” I whispered to myself, starting the engine. “It’s just complicated.”
As I drove through the city toward the address, my father’s words echoed in my mind. Baldwin Acquisitions. The very company that had just thwarted my family’s business plans. Of all the men in the city, I had to pick this one.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel. This complicated everything—and yet somehow made it more perfect. Leonard wasn’t just new money or someone with a questionable reputation. He was actively working against my family’s interests. My parents wouldn’t just disapprove; they would be furious.
A small, rebellious part of me thrilled at this revelation. But another part, the part that had begun to genuinely enjoy Leonard's company, felt a twinge of unease. What would happen when he discovered who I really was?
Well, by then the damage would be done.
I pulled up to the address he’d texted me—a sleek elegant building overlooking the harbor. The valet approached, and I left the vehicle.
“Welcome to the museum of art, Miss Anna,” he said with a bright smile.
The building seemed empty but not abandoned.
I laughed softly under my breath, not sure what to make of the situation. After thanking the valet and handing him my keys, I approached the stairs. Ascending felt magical . I’d been here dozens of times, but never like this.
Waiting just inside was the business shark himself.
He looked different tonight—still immaculately dressed in tailored slacks and a crisp black button-down, but without the full armor of his business suit. More approachable, yet somehow no less intimidating. He was speaking into his phone, but when his dark gaze landed on me, he cut the call and hurried to open the door.
“What’s this, Americano?” I gestured to the empty foyer. There wasn’t even an attendant in the ticket booth.
Leonard’s lips curved into a smile as he took my hand, leading me inside. “I thought we’d have dinner somewhere special tonight.”
“You rented out the entire museum?” I couldn’t keep the astonishment from my voice.
“Just for a few hours.” His tone was casual, as if commandeering cultural institutions was something he did every Thursday evening. “We couldn’t take the yacht out on the lake because of incoming weather, so I had to improvise. I remember you mentioning your love of Renaissance art the other night.”
Had I? Our conversations ranged so widely that I couldn't recall every detail. But the fact that he had listened, had remembered something I said in passing, sent a warm flutter through me.
“This way,” he said, guiding me past the empty ticket counter and into the main gallery.
The museum was transformed. Soft lighting illuminated the artwork, casting gentle shadows across the marble floors. In the center of the main hall, beneath a domed ceiling with a magnificent staircase. Behind it, a little ways further, right before the entrance to the back exhibit, was a secluded area. The intimate nook was staged solely for us. I gasped. Amongst priceless pieces of art stood a table set for two. Candles flickered in ornate holders, casting a golden glow over fine China and crystal glasses. Irreplaceable paintings that were hundreds of years old were placed around it for our enjoyment as we ate.
“I wanted privacy,” Leonard explained, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. “And I thought you might appreciate the setting.”
I turned slowly, taking in the masterpieces surrounding us—Botticelli, Raphael, Titian—their eternal subjects watching us from gilded frames.
“This is....” Words failed me. No one had ever done anything like this for me. All my life, I’d been surrounded by wealth and privilege, but this gesture wasn’t about flaunting money or power. It was thoughtful in a way that caught me completely off guard.
Leonard stepped closer, his hand still holding mine. “Too much?”
I shook my head, meeting his eyes. “Perfect. It’s perfect.”
“Good.” He paused. “A tour first or are you ready to eat?”
Plucking two glasses of wine, I gestured to the East Wing. “Half and half?”
His gaze narrowed in confusion.
“I mean, let’s start looking and then eat, and see more after?” I clarified.
We began the tour with our drinks, stopping to chat about the pieces. He knew a surprising amount of information, especially about Italian art.
Once the red simmered in my veins, I found myself watching him more than the art. It was immersive the way he spoke about things.
So passionate.
The kind of captivation that came with the freedom to explore what he loved.
My glass dangled from my fingertips as we stopped by a sculpture of two lovers done by a lesser-known artist in the 1500s. Leonard continued to speak, but I moved into his space. When he turned, his sharp inhale was audible.
“Thank you for tonight,” I breathed.
The energy between us sparked like a tangible entity. I reached up and brushed invisible lint from his shoulder.
He didn’t move. Didn’t seem to breathe. But the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
I smoothed my hands over his torso, relishing the feel of his muscles.
Despite my shoes, there was a decided height difference. I couldn’t reach his mouth, not without his help. I remained standing there for a heartbeat, letting the silent invitation hang between us.
Leonard took my wine glass, set it on the statue’s platform—as if the piece was just an everyday knock off from a factory—and tugged me close.
He bent and claimed my mouth.
His lips were firm against mine, insistent but not demanding. My hands instinctively slid up to his shoulders, steadying myself as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. This wasn't part of my plan—I wasn’t supposed to feel this dizzy rush of desire, this immediate connection.
When he deepened the kiss, one hand cradling the back of my neck, I found myself responding with an eagerness that surprised me. I’d been kissed before, but never like this—never with this sense that I was being savored, explored, understood.
Leonard pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching mine. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the jazz club.”
“Why did you wait?” I whispered, my fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt.
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Slow, remember?”
I laughed softly, the sound echoing through the ancient, priceless artifacts. “That was before we said slow.”
Leonard’s hand slipped around, his thumb ran over my bottom lip. “I knew that I would take my time with you before you asked. You’re different, Anna. I knew things had to be different with you.”
In this moment, the end goal seemed far away. His words slid under my defenses and shattered my plans. I felt as though if I let go of him, I would fall. And it wasn’t the wine. No, it was something else.
His hand moved to my waist, drawing me closer.
“Different how?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice—breathy, wanting.
“Most people I meet want something from me. My money, my influence, my connections.” His eyes never left mine. “You’ve never once tried to impress me or extract anything. It’s...refreshing.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. If he only knew my original intentions.
“You’re quiet,” he observed.
I forced a smile. “Just hungry.”
He studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. “Then let’s eat.”