Chapter 16 Leander
SIXTEEN
LEANDER
The city’s skyline rose before them like a jagged crown of glass and steel, but Leander felt disconnected from it.
For once, the view didn’t represent a kingdom to defend, but a shared canvas.
The drive back to Manhattan in the Range Rover’s quiet, leather-scented interior was a liminal space, a cocoon where the warmth of the Hamptons still clung to their skin and the roaring approval of his pride still echoed in his bones.
A profound, almost dizzying sense of rightness hummed beneath his sternum, a sensation so new he was still learning its name. It wasn’t the satisfaction of a closed deal or the quiet control of a well-managed empire. This was… pure joy.
She’d said yes.
His lion preened, a contented rumble in his soul.
He’d known from the first touch she was his, but the knowing had been a primal, possessive truth.
Now, it was layered with something richer: the pride’s blessing, his mother’s immediate love for her, and the glittering emerald on her finger that caught the passing streetlights like a promise.
One week. The world would call it reckless.
But his heart and soul, scarred and cynical as they were, had never been more certain.
He wanted every dawn with her, every challenge, and every quiet evening.
He wanted to build a legacy his father would have looked at with pride—not just of stone and steel, but of heart.
“This weekend was… truly perfect,” Camille said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
She turned her head, her smile a gentle curve in the dim light.
“Thank you for showing me your family’s home and introducing me to your mother and your pride.
It’s the piece of you I didn’t even know I needed to see. ”
The raw gratitude in her voice sent a sharp pang of protectiveness through him. She’d been starved of such simple, authentic belonging. “It’s your home now, too,” he said, the words an Alpha decree and a heartfelt vow. “We’ll go back often. Happiness and that bay air take priority over blueprints.”
She laced her fingers through his where they rested on the gear shift. “I would like that.”
Her touch was electricity straight to his core. It grounded the soaring feeling, tethering his dreams directly to her. The practical, future-building part of his mind, now alight with possibility, saw the next logical step. It was time to merge the two halves of his world completely.
“Speaking of blueprints,” he began, his tone shifting to the one he used in boardrooms, though it was softened by an edge of possessive pride. “I can’t have you as my assistant anymore.”
He felt her slight jolt of surprise through their joined hands, and saw the confusion cloud her expression in his periphery. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re my fiancée,” he stated, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.
“Having you work under me is not just unprofessional. It’s an insult to your talent.
I’d be wasting you.” He glanced at her, letting her see the absolute conviction in his eyes.
“I’m going to speak to the Board. I’m making you my business partner. ”
The stunned silence that followed was thick. He could almost hear the rapid calculations, the old fears of overstepping or being perceived as receiving a handout warring with the bright flare of ambition he knew lived within her.
Then, a smile broke across her face—not polite or contained, but a wide, dazzling expression of pure awe.
“A partner,” she breathed, as if tasting the word.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Your insights on Lexington prove you can handle complex projects.
Your people skills, your eye for design…
you could land any client we want.” He took a steadying breath to calm his excitement.
“This isn’t about giving you a title because of who you are to me.
It’s about creating a space where you can shine, Camille. ”
The words felt inadequate for the vision forming in his mind: not a solitary king on a glass throne, but a true partnership.
The dam broke.
“We could pitch to the Van Allen group for that waterfront revitalization,” she blurted, her mind already racing ahead.
“Their current proposal is all cold geometry. We could introduce biophilic design, create communal spaces that feel like… like the pride lands, but with an urban edge. Warmth and authenticity, but with the city’s energy.
We could reshape whole blocks to feel human again. ”
Her ideas poured out, a passionate, brilliant torrent that painted a new future for his company—their company—right there in the dashboard’s glow.
It wasn’t about cold expansion or dominating a market.
It was about creating beauty and fostering community.
It was everything his father had whispered about late at night. The heart behind the blueprints.
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.”
She shook her head against him, her voice muffled but firm.
“No. I need to do this. I need to walk in there on my own terms and say goodbye to that life myself. There’s not much left there that I want anyway.
The rest… they can donate it.” She pulled back, swiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands, a gesture that was both vulnerable and determined. “I want to start fresh.”
“Then we start fresh,” he vowed, his voice a low rumble of absolute certainty. “Tomorrow, we replace everything they tried to give you with one of your own choosing. Anything you want. Everything you need.”
A small smile touched her lips. “I’d like that.”
“But tonight,” he said, smoothing her hair, his touch infinitely gentle, “we rest. It’s late. You’re exhausted.” He guided her away from the cold marble, through the living room where city lights glittered like fallen stars, and into the sanctuary of his bedroom—their bedroom now.
He helped her undress with a reverence that had everything to do with care, peeling away the elegant clothes like layers of a past she was shedding.
He did the same. Then they curled together in the center of the large bed, her back fitted perfectly to his chest, and his arms a fortress around her.
He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent.
His.
As her breathing evened out into the rhythms of sleep, Leander lay awake. A silent, ferocious vow etched itself into his soul, sharper than any contract.
I will spend every day of forever loving you. Unconditionally. I will show you your worth in every stone we lay, in every sunrise we share, and in every quiet moment between the storms. You will never doubt that you are cherished. You will always have a safe place to land. Here. With me.
His lion echoed the promise with a deep, internal roar that vibrated through his bones and into hers. He held her tighter, pouring his strength, his promise, and his endless devotion into the warmth of her sleeping form.
Tomorrow would come, but for now, she was safe. She was home. She was his.