(Amira's POV)
I couldn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was him — Leonardo Vance — standing so close, his hand on my waist, his voice low against my ear as we danced.
I turned over in bed, hugging my pillow tight. What was wrong with me? It was just a dance. Just part of his world — part of his act. That's what I kept telling myself.
But deep down, I knew it wasn't true.
The way his hand had lingered. The way he'd looked at me when he said I belonged. That wasn't business. That was something else. Something I was afraid to name.
The next morning, I came down for breakfast later than usual, hoping to avoid him. But of course, luck was not on my side.
He was already there, sitting at the head of the long dining table, his laptop open, a cup of coffee steaming beside him.
His eyes lifted the moment I walked in. "You're late," he said simply.
"I didn't realize there was a time limit on breakfast," I replied, trying to sound calm.
He shut his laptop. "There isn't. But I assumed you'd be up early after last night's… appearance."
I froze. "Was there a problem?"
His lips curved slightly — not quite a smile, but close. "No problem. You handled yourself well."
I blinked. "That's it? No lecture about keeping a low profile? No reminder about the contract?"
He looked at me for a long moment, then said softly, "Maybe some rules were meant to be broken."
My stomach did a strange flip.
He pushed back his chair and stood. "We'll be attending another meeting later this evening. Rest for now."
"Another event?" I asked.
He nodded. "Dinner. Private one."
Before I could ask more, he was gone — leaving me confused, flustered, and more curious than ever.
By evening, I found myself pacing in front of my mirror again, fixing my hair for the second time. The black dress from the gala had been replaced with a soft blue one that matched my skin tone perfectly.
I didn't know why I cared so much about how I looked. It wasn't a date. It was business. Just business.
But when Leonardo appeared at my door, dressed in a navy-blue shirt with the top button undone, my heart forgot how to beat for a second.
"Ready?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over me in quiet approval.
I nodded quickly. "Yes."
We drove in silence, the hum of the car filling the space between us. I wanted to say something — anything — but words felt too heavy. Every time our eyes met, I looked away first.
The dinner wasn't what I expected.
It wasn't a grand event or a business meeting. Instead, it was a private restaurant on the rooftop of a tall building overlooking the city. Candlelight flickered between us, the air warm and scented with jasmine.
There were no reporters, no cameras — just us.
"Why are we here?" I asked softly, as we sat across from each other.
He leaned back, watching me closely. "Because I thought you deserved one evening that wasn't about work."
I stared at him, shocked. "That's… thoughtful."
"Don't sound so surprised; I'm capable of that sometimes," he said with a faint smile.
I couldn't help laughing. "I'll believe it when I see it."
His expression softened at my laughter, and for a moment, the serious, distant man I'd come to know disappeared.
Dinner passed in quiet conversation. He told me little things — how he hated crowded places, how he preferred silence to small talk, how he hadn't danced in years until last night.
When he said that last part, my breath caught.
"I didn't know that," I whispered.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," he replied. "And maybe that's for the best."
But the way he looked at me said something else — something that made my heart ache and race all at once.
After dinner, we stepped outside onto the terrace. The city lights stretched endlessly, stars scattered above us. The breeze lifted my hair, and I shivered slightly.
Without a word, Leonardo slipped off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders.
"Thank you," I murmured.
He stood close — too close. I could feel the warmth of him even through the fabric.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," he said suddenly, his voice low.
I frowned. "Like what?"
"Like you trust me."
I swallowed hard. "Maybe I do."
His eyes darkened, and for the first time, I saw a hint of emotion he usually hid so well. "That's dangerous, Amira."
The way he said my name sent chills down my spine.
He took a slow step closer. "I told myself this arrangement would stay professional."
I held my breath. "And?"
He stopped inches away, his gaze burning into mine. "I'm failing at it."
My heart thundered so loud I thought he could hear it. "Leonardo…"
"Don't," he whispered. "If I start, I won't stop."
The night air was heavy between us. His hand brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek.
I didn't move. I didn't even think.
For a moment, it felt like the world had gone quiet — just the two of us standing there, fighting something that neither of us fully understood.
His eyes dropped to my lips. My breath caught.
And then—
His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket.
He stepped back instantly, the spell breaking. The warmth vanished, replaced by the cool, distant man again.
"I have to take this," he said shortly, turning away.
I stood there, heart pounding, the night spinning around me.
When he returned a few minutes later, his face was unreadable again. "We should go."
I nodded silently, following him back to the car.
The ride home was quiet. Too quiet.
When we reached the mansion, he didn't walk me to my door this time. He just looked at me once — a long, unreadable look — then said softly, "Goodnight, Miss Daniels."
I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.
He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, clutching his jacket tightly around me — the faint scent of his cologne still lingering.
I whispered into the silence, "Goodnight, Leonardo."
And deep down, I knew one thing for sure — whatever this was between us, it was no longer just business.
It was something neither of us could ignore anymore.