Again, He Slightly Murmured

The air between us is thick and heavy with silence. I force myself to focus on the road ahead, watching as the city lights flicker to life. The ride feels longer than it should, every second stretching out as if the universe itself is warning me not to get comfortable.

Leo hasn't said another word since telling me not to bring my baggage here. But I can feel him watching me, studying me like I'm a problem he hasn't quite figured out yet.

I hate that he sees too much.

I clear my throat, shifting in my seat. "So, do you always interrogate your employees, or am I just special?"

He doesn't even blink. "I don't like surprises."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Yeah, well, life's full of them."

Silence again.

I keep pushing. Maybe it's easier than sitting in this suffocating tension. Maybe something about Leo Hayes makes me want to test my limits, or because, 

For the first time, someone is looking at me like I'm worth figuring out.

And that terrifies me.

Leo exhales, long and slow. "Where do you live?"

"Downtown," I answer, shifting my bag. "Not far from the library."

His brow furrows. "That's an hour from here."

I shrug. "I take the bus."

He mutters something under his breath, shaking his head like I'm the most reckless person he's ever met. "That's not safe."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Welcome to the life of someone who can't afford a gated estate."

When we finally pull up to my building, I reach for the door handle, eager to put distance between us. "Thanks for the ride."

Leo doesn't respond right away.

I glance back at him, and for a brief second, his expression isn't hard, unreadable. It's something else. 

"Be careful, Ella."

Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten.

I nodded once before slipping out of the car and into the night.

But as I walk up the steps to my apartment, his voice stays rent-free in my head.

Be careful.

Leo

I don't drive away immediately.

Instead, I watch as Ella disappears into her building, my fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel.

Something bothers me.

I tell myself it's because she's working with Matteo. That's why I needed to know she was not a risk.

But that's a lie.

The truth is, I don't like the thought of her walking these streets alone at night. I don't like the fact that she takes the bus home when she leaves work.

And I don't like the way she looked at me before she got out of the car—like she wasn't used to people caring whether she made it home or not.

This isn't my problem.

She isn't my problem.

But as I drive back to the estate, I can't shake the feeling that Ella Richson will be a problem, whether I want her to be or not.

Ella

The moment I step into my tiny apartment, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. The air inside is stuffy, the faint scent of old books and vanilla candles lingering from the last time I tried to make this place feel like home.

I toss my bag onto the couch and run a hand through my hair, my mind still stuck on the ride home.

Be careful, Ella.

Leo's words replay in my head, looping over and over like a song I can't turn off.

It bothers me. I've been taking care of myself for years. I don't need a reminder to be careful, especially not from a man like him.

But the way he said it—low, firm, like it mattered—does something strange to me.

I shake it off, crossing the room to my small bookshelf. I need a distraction, something to ground me before my thoughts spiral into places I'd rather avoid.

Pulling out an old, worn book, I settle onto the couch and let my fingers trace the dog-eared pages. But before I can even read the first line, my phone buzzes. 

Unknown: Text me when you get home next time.

I blink, my stomach flipping.

What the—

Another message follows almost immediately.

Unknown: It's Leo.

Obviously.

I should be annoyed. I should set a firm boundary and remind him that he's my employer, not my keeper. But instead, my fingers hesitate over the keyboard.

I don't owe him a response. But for some reason, I type one anyway.

Me: I'm home. You don't have to check on me.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes again.

Leo: I know.

That's it.

I stare at the screen, waiting for more. But nothing else comes.

With a frustrated sigh, I toss my phone onto the coffee table and lean back against the couch.

This is a terrible idea.

Getting involved, even a little, is dangerous.

But the problem is, I'm not sure which one of us I'm trying to protect more—myself or him.

I shouldn't have texted her.

The second I hit send, I knew it was a mistake.

She's not my responsibility. Matteo is. And yet, I couldn't stop myself from texting her.

By the time I reach the Hayes estate for my next lesson, I've convinced myself that Leo's text meant nothing.

But the moment I step through the gates, my heart betrays me, hammering harder than it should.

I take a steadying breath and ring the doorbell.

The door swings open, and there he is.

Leo.

He fills the doorway, broad and solid, his dark eyes locking onto mine like he's already read every thought I'm trying to bury.

"On time today," he notes, stepping aside.

"Should I get a medal?" I quip, slipping past him.

He doesn't laugh, but there's this little amusement, maybe?—before his face settles back into its usual mask.

Matteo is in the same spot as before, curled up on the couch with his stuffed wolf. But something is different.

He's waiting for me.

His eyes find mine, and for the first time, there's no hesitation.

It's a small thing, but I don't miss it.

"Hi, Matteo," I say softly, crouching to his level. "Do you remember me?"

He clutches his wolf tighter but gives the fast tiniest nod.

Progress.

I glance at the piano, but before I can suggest playing again, Matteo reaches for something beside him and holds it out.

A book.

He wants me to read to him.

I took it like I was holding something fragile.

"Good choice," I murmur, settling onto the couch beside him.

Leo doesn't move, but I can feel his presence behind me, watching. Always watching.

I open the book and start reading.

Matteo listens.

Leo listens as well.

I tell myself I'm only watching because I need to. I have to make sure she's right for Matteo.

That's the only reason.

But as I stand there, arms crossed, listening to the soft lilt of her voice as she reads, I know I'm lying to myself.

There's something about the way Matteo looks at her.

She's getting through to him.

And that terrifies me.

Because if Matteo starts to need her, if he starts to rely on her...

What happens when she leaves?

People always leave.

I turn away before I can think too much about why that thought unsettles me.

But as I walk to my office, her voice follows me, soft and steady.

And for a while, the silence in this house doesn't feel so heavy.

Matteo leans closer as I turn the page, his small fingers gripping the edge of his stuffed wolf. His eyes flicker between the words and my face, like he's measuring how much he can trust me.

I keep my voice steady, reading the lines with just enough emotion to bring the story to life. It's a simple tale—one about a little boy who befriends a fox in the woods. But as I read, I realized it's not about the story itself.

It's about the connection.

Matteo isn't just listening. He's holding on to each word.

Halfway through, he shifts, moving closer until his arm brushes against mine. My breath stills, but I don't react. I just keep reading.

I see Leo standing near the entrance, his arms crossed, and watching. not just me, but Matteo.

I swallow down the urge to glare at him. Instead, I focus on the little boy beside me. The way his breathing slows as he gets lost in the story.

When I finally reach the last page, I close the book softly.

Matteo is still for a moment. Then he lifts his gaze to mine.

I don't expect anything. No words. No gestures.

But he shifts slightly and murmurs, so quietly I almost don't hear it.

"Again."

I freeze.

It's one word. Just one. But it carries more weight than any sentence I could have pulled from that book.

Leo stiffens across the room. I don't think he expected that either.

My chest tightens, and I nod. "Okay."

I open the book and start again.

This time, Matteo presses closer.

And, I read slower.