Lia didn't know how long they stood there—too close, too tense, too aware of every breath that passed between them. The room was charged after their argument, like a storm brewing in silence.
Leo was the first to step back.
It wasn't that far, but it felt like slamming a door shut.
He muttered, "This can't happen," and turned away, running a hand over his face.
Lia's chest tightened. "What can't?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the window, staring out at the city as if it offered escape.
"You," he said quietly. "This. Us. Whatever… this tension is.
His voice wasn't cold; it was frustrated and conflicted.
Lia swallowed hard. "Why does it matter if we work together?"
Leo laughed humorlessly. "Because feelings get in the way. And I don't like complications."
Feelings.
The word hit Lia harder than she expected.
"I don't want complications either," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "But I also don't want to tiptoe around you every day."
He turned to him, his gaze sharp yet so fragile. "You think I wanted this? I've spent years making sure no one gets close."
"Maybe that's the problem," Lia whispered.
Leo stiffened.
A long, oppressive silence followed, unspoken.
His voice dropped to a painful softness. "You're getting under my skin, Lia. And I can't afford that. Not with everything happening. Not when you're already in danger."
She took a slow breath. "I didn't ask you to feel anything."
"I know," he said. "That's why it scares me."
Her heart flipped.
Afraid, cold, controlled, untouchable —Leo Grant.
Of his own feelings.
He stepped back again, as if distance would fix things.
He said, "It's better if we keep things professional," but he didn't sound convinced.
Lia nodded, even as her heart was bleeding. "Professional," she echoed. But both of them knew—unwanted or not, the feelings were already there.