Arielle couldn't sleep.
Her mind kept replaying the moment Leonard looked at her in the car. The way he defended her at dinner. The question he asked—
"Don't you?"—when she said she didn't belong to him.
And the kiss that almost happened.
She tossed in bed for what felt like hours before giving up.
The mansion was quiet. The halls were dimly lit with a soft golden glow from the wall sconces.
She walked barefoot down the corridor, not sure where she was going.
When she passed the laundry room, something caught her eye.
A neatly folded pile of clothes on the table—Leonard's dress shirts, still warm from being ironed.
She stared at them for a moment.
Then, almost without thinking, she reached out and picked one up.
It smelled like him. Clean. Crisp. Sharp.
She held it against her chest, then slowly slipped it on.
The sleeves hung past her hands. The hem brushed her thighs.
It was way too big.
But it felt safe.
Comfortable.
Even if just for tonight.
---
Leonard's Room
Leonard sat on the edge of his bed, tie undone, shirt half unbuttoned. He stared out the window, city lights glowing in the distance.
He told himself it was just business.
A contract.
But Arielle wasn't just a name on paper anymore.
She was getting under his skin.
Her quiet stares. Her sarcastic comebacks.
The way she looked at him like he was a man—not a billionaire, not a Castillo.
Just… him.
He hated it.
Because feelings made things messy.
And he couldn't afford messy.
There was a knock.
He didn't move.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened. Arielle stepped inside, barefoot.
Damp hair curling at the ends.
Wearing his shirt like it belonged to her.
He stood up, eyes fixed on her.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered. "Everything."
She crossed the room slowly.
"I'm tired of pretending," she said, voice trembling. "Tired of acting like we don't feel something. Tired of waiting for you to push me away again."
Leonard's jaw tightened.
"Arielle…"
"Tell me to leave," she said, barely breathing. "And I will. Right now."
He didn't.
Instead, he stepped forward and pulled her to him.
Their lips met—slow at first, soft and unsure.
Then hungry. Heated. Real.
His hands slid around her waist. She melted into him.
He lifted her, carried her to the bed without a word.
Like it was the only thing that ever made sense.
And in that moment, there were no contracts.
No rules.
Just two people trying to hold on to something they didn't understand.
---
Later That Night
Arielle lay beside him, her head on his chest.
His arm draped loosely around her waist.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear. Hers was racing.
"Do you regret it?" she whispered.
Leonard didn't answer right away.
"No," he said finally. "But I should."
She closed her eyes.
She knew things would get harder after this.
But for now, she let herself believe this night was real.
Even if everything else was not.
---
End of Chapter 6