Chapter 25 – Stormy Night

The storm came in suddenly, without the slow, courteous warnings typical of a Caribbean sky.

One minute, it was warm and balmy—palm trees swaying under a violet dusk—and the next, clouds rolled in, thick and gray, swallowing the last of the sun. The wind shifted, wild and wet, slamming shutters and tossing waves against the rocky edge of the island.

Ariana Blake stood at the glass balcony doors of their shared suite, her fingers clenching the edges of her thin cardigan. Her breath fogged the glass.

A sharp crack of thunder rolled across the sky. The sound was guttural, splitting the air in half.

She flinched.

"Storm season," Leo said from behind her, voice casual, but his footsteps were already moving closer.

Ariana turned, barely holding her composure. "It's fine. I just didn't expect it to hit this fast."

She tried to play it off—tried to hide the tremor in her voice—but Leo wasn't buying it. His blue eyes, cold when guarded, now flickered with something gentler. Something far more dangerous.

Understanding.

"Come away from the glass," he said.

She hesitated.

Lightning flashed again—closer this time—and when the thunder followed almost immediately, Ariana lost her grip on the façade. She jolted backward, hitting the side table with her hip.

"Damn it," she muttered, breath hitching.

Leo stepped forward. "Ariana—"

"I said I'm fine," she snapped, but the shake in her voice betrayed her. "I'm not afraid of rain."

"No," he said carefully. "But you are afraid of storms."

She went still.

The thunder rumbled again—low and long—and Ariana's hands flew to her ears before she could stop herself.

"Don't," she whispered. "Don't make this a thing."

But he already had. Because Leo Cross, for all his emotional walls and corporate armor, wasn't blind. And more than that—he remembered details. Little ones.

Like how her hands had clenched during the plane's turbulence. How she'd tensed at the first sound of thunder earlier that day. How her eyes flickered toward exits whenever something loud crashed.

He saw it now—barefoot, pale, rigid with fear. And it wasn't the storm itself. It was what the storm triggered.

He stepped in front of her, slowly, not touching her. Not yet.

"You're safe," he said, voice low. "It's just sound. Nothing can get to you here."

Ariana pressed her back to the wall, chest rising and falling fast. "Don't—don't talk to me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you care," she whispered.

That silenced him.

For a long, thick moment, the only sound was the rain lashing against the windows, the wind howling like some distant creature. The power flickered once, then steadied. Ariana's breath came in short gasps.

Leo didn't move.

Then, finally—gently, deliberately—he crouched down in front of her, leveling their eyes. "I do care."

The words were so soft she almost missed them.

Ariana blinked. Her throat tightened.

Another bolt of lightning lit the room—and this time, she didn't flinch.

Because Leo, still silent, reached out and took her hand.

No pressure. No force.

Just his palm open, fingers waiting.

Her hand trembled as it moved into his.

His grip was warm. Steady. Grounding.

He tugged her gently toward the center of the room, away from the walls, the windows. He guided her to the wide bed and sat down beside her, their hands still linked.

"It's okay to be afraid," he said quietly.

She looked at him—really looked.

Thirty-two years old. Six-foot-two. Broad shoulders, strong jaw, all sharp edges and composure in public—but right now, here in this quiet storm-lit suite, he was something else.

Not cold.

Not cruel.

Human.

"I hate this," she whispered.

"I know."

"It's not just storms," she admitted, eyes staring past him. "It's… the dark. Loud noises. Things I can't control."

He didn't speak. Didn't interrupt. Just held her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"My ex used to scream," she went on, voice barely audible. "When he got drunk. Or angry. Sometimes both. He never hit me, but—he didn't have to. He knew how to make me feel… small. Like I couldn't breathe."

Leo's hand tightened.

"I stayed longer than I should've," Ariana added. "Because I kept thinking I was strong enough to fix it. That I'd chosen it, so I had to endure it."

She laughed, bitter and breathless.

"I had to rebuild everything after I left. Confidence. Work. Rent. My sense of worth. And now I'm here, in this fake marriage with a man who terrifies me because he's honest and capable and doesn't need me—but he's kind, too, sometimes, and it scares the hell out of me because I can't read him."

Leo looked down.

"I never meant to terrify you," he said quietly.

She smiled without humor. "You don't try to. But you're powerful. And I've learned to fear power."

His eyes flicked to her face—intense, unreadable. "Ariana—"

The thunder boomed again, loud and jarring.

She clutched his hand.

He pulled her in.

Without thinking, without analyzing, Leo drew her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Not possessive. Not sexual.

Just present.

Just there.

Ariana pressed her cheek against his shirt. The cotton smelled faintly of cedar and salt. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear.

"I haven't let anyone do this in a long time," she whispered.

He didn't respond with words.

He simply held her tighter.

—

The storm raged for hours, but neither of them moved.

Ariana eventually curled into his side, her breathing even, her muscles finally relaxed. Leo sat propped against the headboard, arm around her shoulders, legs stretched in front of him. His mind, for once, was still.

He'd had millions of dollars, companies, cities bow to his will.

But nothing—not power, not dominance—felt as strange or satisfying as this: holding a woman whose walls were higher than his own, and knowing she trusted him in this moment.

A flicker of guilt passed through him.

This wasn't part of the agreement.

And yet, he didn't pull away.

Didn't want to.

—

At some point, Ariana fell asleep.

Her breath was soft against his chest. Her body warm. Her fingers still laced with his.

Leo stared at the ceiling, the storm quieting outside.

Everything was changing.

And he wasn't sure he was ready.

But he was sure of one thing.

He didn't want to go back to before.

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