Chapter 21: Morning Tension & Soft Walls Cracking

Melanie's POV 

Warmth. That was the first thing she registered.

Then the strong, steady rhythm of a heartbeat against her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She was curled into Leonard—his arm wrapped securely around her waist, her head resting against his chest, her leg draped slightly over his. The blanket had half-slipped off during the night, but neither of them had moved.

Panic stirred at the base of her spine.

Her mind fumbled for details.

What happened?

Bits and pieces flashed in her head. Wine. Cookies. The couch. Him waking her up. Her... kissing him?

Her stomach flipped.

She tried to sit up slowly, carefully, but the arm around her tightened instinctively. His breath was steady, slow.

Still asleep.

Her heart pounded.

Was he pretending?

No. He looked too peaceful. Too unguarded.

She stared at his face—the way his brows relaxed in sleep, the faint trace of stubble on his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly.

God, she kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

She buried her face in his chest, mortified.

Why didn't I stop? Why did he let me?

Because you wanted to.

Because he wanted it too.

She swallowed and slowly untangled herself, lifting his arm gently before slipping out from under it. Her feet hit the cold marble floor and the shock sobered her instantly.

She padded to the bathroom, splashing water on her face, staring at her reflection like it held the answers.

Was it real?

Was she falling for him?

She clutched the sink edge.

No. This is temporary. It's all part of the contract.

And yet...

Her fingers ghosted her lips.

He tasted real. He felt real.

Leonard's POV 

He woke to an empty space beside him.

His hand grazed the cool sheet. The weight of her absence settled quickly.

She was gone.

Leonard sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. The memories rushed in like a wave.

Melanie in his arms. Her kiss.

God, her kiss.

Soft. Hungry. Desperate.

And him, a fool, indulging like a starved man.

He pressed his palm to his mouth briefly.

He should've stopped it. Should've reminded her she was drunk. That it wasn't real.

But he couldn't.

Because to him, it had been the most real thing they'd shared so far.

And she kissed him first.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. A reminder for the board meeting at 10 a.m.

He pushed it aside.

Downstairs...

Melanie stood at the stove, flipping pancakes in an attempt to distract herself.

She didn't hear him enter until his voice broke the silence.

"Something smells good."

She jumped slightly, turning. "Pancakes. Thought I'd make breakfast. Hope that's okay."

His eyes scanned her face.

"More than okay."

She turned away quickly, grabbing plates.

"Why did you come back early?" she asked softly, needing to anchor herself with something practical.

Leonard ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Board meeting was rescheduled. I figured I might as well come home. I wasn't expecting to find you... half-asleep and covered in flour."

They sat in the breakfast nook, the air heavy with unspoken words.

"You okay?" he asked finally.

She nodded, not looking up. "Yeah. Just tired."

He didn't push.

After a moment, she added softly, "Thank you... for last night."

His brow arched. "For?"

"Getting me upstairs. Not... making it weird."

He watched her carefully. "It wasn't weird."

Their eyes met.

The tension stretched between them, taut like a thread about to snap.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked gently.

She hesitated.

"Not really," she lied.

He nodded once. "Right."

She stabbed a piece of pancake. "Did I say anything... stupid?"

Leonard smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You said I was handsome."

Her face flushed. "I must've been really drunk."

He chuckled, but something behind his smile faded.

She saw it.

He stood first. "I have a meeting. I should go. The driver will drop you."

She nodded, unable to speak.

He paused near the doorway, looking back.

"Melanie... if you ever want to talk about anything, you can."

She looked up.

"Thanks."

Then he was gone.

Melanie stood by her window, watching the driveway empty as Leo's car disappeared through the gates.

Her chest tightened.

Why did she feel like something fragile had cracked open between them?

Why did she care so much if he remembered the kiss?

She turned away and caught her reflection.

Eyes wide. Shoulders tense.

She pressed a hand to her chest.

"I can't fall for him," she whispered. 

And yet, her heart betrayed her—fluttering with something dangerously close to hope.

A knock on the door startled her.

One of the maids peeked in. "Ma'am, the driver's ready whenever you are."

Melanie nodded. "Thank you. I'll be down in fifteen."

Few minutes later...

She turned back to the mirror, fixing her hair, her fingers trembling slightly. As she applied light gloss to her lips, she whispered:

"Don't read into it. Don't hope. Just breathe."

But her reflection gave her away.

She wasn't just breathing.

She was beginning to feel.

And that scared her more than anything.

She grabbed her bag, pausing only once more before exiting the room. Every step down the staircase echoed louder than necessary, like her hesitation was begging to be heard.

As she entered the foyer, she slowed her pace. The staff greeted her politely, none of them mentioning the soft pink hue still clinging to her cheeks. She wasn't sure if they knew, or if they suspected anything had shifted between her and Leonard.

Maybe she imagined it all.

Maybe last night was just a moment.

But her body remembered it. Her lips did. The heat of his hands on her back. The gentle tremble in his voice when he whispered her name.

She clutched the stair rail briefly.

"Ma'am?" the driver said, holding the door open.

She nodded quickly, forcing her feet to move. As she settled into the backseat, her eyes drifted shut for a brief moment. The car pulled out of Westwood Manor, the gates shutting quietly behind her.

And yet, part of her still felt like she hadn't left at all.

Not really.

Leonard's POV

The boardroom was filled with voices, but Leonard wasn't listening.

He kept checking his phone, expecting a message that never came.

Something in Melanie's eyes this morning lingered with him. A quiet fear. A hesitation.

He had returned a day early just to see her. To be near her. And though she didn't remember the night clearly—he did. Every second. Every sigh. Every kiss.

He leaned back in his chair as the meeting continued, staring at the table.

He couldn't afford to want more from her. But the longer she stayed, the harder it became to remember that this was a contract.

A temporary arrangement.

Except... nothing about last night felt temporary.

And if she remembered even a fraction of it—

No.

He shouldn't hope.

Still, the memory of her voice, breathy and dazed, whispering, "Even in my dreams... you make me feel safe," echoed louder than anything else today.

He couldn't push her.

But he couldn't let her drift away either.

If she was going to fall—he would be there to catch her.

Even if she didn't want to believe he would.