It was supposed to be an ordinary night. If anything about Leon Crane could ever be called ordinary.
Aria sat across from him at the long dining table, her fork idly moving through the perfectly plated risotto. Leon, as always, ate with effortless grace—half present, half somewhere else. His phone buzzed once in his pocket. He didn't check it.
"I talked to Olivia today," Aria said, trying to inject some normalcy into the evening. "She asked how things were going."
Leon's eyes flicked up from his plate. "And what did you say?"
"That I'm seeing someone I don't really know."
A faint smirk touched his lips. "Honest."
"Am I wrong?"
He leaned back in his chair. "Depends on what you think you should know."
Aria exhaled. "Do you ever get tired of dodging questions?"
"I don't dodge," he said calmly. "I deflect. There's a difference."
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang.
Leon stood, napkin dropped onto the table. "Wait here."
He moved through the room with the confidence of someone who expected danger but never feared it. Aria, of course, did not wait. She rose quietly and padded to the edge of the hallway, peeking from behind the wall.
A tall man stepped inside—clean-cut, severe, in a tailored charcoal suit. His shoes barely made a sound on the marble. His gaze swept the penthouse with cool disinterest before settling on Leon.
"Crane."
Leon offered a nod, but there was no warmth in it.
"Marco," he said flatly.
Marco's eyes darted toward Aria's direction for half a second. "She's here?"
Leon didn't answer.
"Does she know what you do?" Marco asked, unbothered by Aria's proximity.
Leon's jaw tightened. "That's not your concern."
"You've changed," Marco said, almost amused. "Softened."
Leon stepped in close. "Careful. That sounded like disrespect."
Marco didn't flinch. "I came to deliver the message. I've done my part."
Leon walked him back toward the door. "Then leave."
Marco looked past him again, this time directly at Aria.
"So she's the girl."
Before Aria could process what that meant, Leon slammed the door shut behind him. The lock clicked.
He turned slowly, his expression unreadable.
"How much did you hear?" he asked.
"Enough," she said. "He called me the girl. Like I'm some… package you're supposed to keep hidden."
Leon crossed to her in two long strides. "That's not what this is."
"Then what is it, Leon? Because I'm starting to feel like I'm sleepwalking through your life."
He reached for her, but she stepped back.
"I've asked you again and again—what do you do, where did you come from—and all I get are half-answers and riddles."
His voice dropped. "Because the truth doesn't come without consequences."
"Try me," she challenged, heart pounding.
Leon looked at her for a long time. Then he turned and walked toward the bar.
"I didn't have a childhood worth remembering," he said. "My parents died when I was young. I was raised by people who taught me how to survive, not how to live."
He poured a drink. Whiskey. No ice.
Aria waited.
"I deal in power," he said. "Not stocks. Not tech. Something older. Dirtier. I move things. Information. Loyalty. Blood, sometimes."
Her stomach tightened.
"Are you saying you're in—"
He cut her off. "I'm saying I'm not someone you should fall for."
Too late for that, she thought bitterly.
He turned to her, the drink untouched in his hand. "I'm trying to protect you. From them, and from what knowing more would do to you."
Aria crossed the room. "Do you think I'm afraid of the truth?"
"I think you should be."
He stepped closer. One hand went to her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
"I never meant to bring you into this world," he said softly. "But I don't know how to let you go."
She leaned into his touch, confused, aching.
"Then stop pushing me away."
Their lips met again—fierce, frustrated, hungry for what they didn't say. He kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him human.
And she kissed him like she didn't care if it ruined her.
But when she woke later that night, alone again, she knew something was unraveling.
And it was only a matter of time before it snapped.