stay here...

Leo shut the door behind us, the quiet click way louder than it needed to be. He didn't move to sit. Neither did I.

The tension was thick—like something was about to explode, and honestly? I wasn't sure if it would be him or me.

I crossed my arms. "Why the hell was there a gun in your jacket?"

Leo looked at me. No smirk. No sarcasm. Just tired eyes and a clenched jaw.

"You went through my stuff?"

"You left your jacket at my house last night," I snapped. "I didn't go looking for anything. It practically fell out."

He closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled like he'd been holding that breath for a long time. "I didn't mean for you to find it."

"Yeah? Well, I did." I stepped forward. "And now I'm asking you: why do you have a gun, Leo?"

He stayed quiet for a second too long.

"I'm serious," I added, voice low.

That made something flash in his eyes. He stepped closer, the air between us sharp and charged.

"You're not afraid of me, Kael," he said, voice like a dare.

"You don't get to decide that," I bit back.

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "It's complicated."

"No," I said. "Murder is complicated. This is simple. You had a weapon, and you left it at my house. What the hell are you involved in, Leo?"

He didn't answer.

So I dropped the last card I had.

"I still have it."

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I hid it. Locked it away. So either you start talking, or I start asking questions louder."

He stepped toward me again, this time slower. More serious. "Don't tell anyone, Kael."

"Then tell me."

He looked at me for a long, long second.

"I'll tell you," he said finally.

Then he turned away like that settled it.

But it didn't.

Because now I had even more questions than before.

I didn't move. Didn't blink.

Leo's voice was low now, like he was confessing something the walls shouldn't hear.

"I come from a gangster family, Kael."

My heart actually skipped. Not like the stupid flutters I usually get around him—no, this was ice-cold dread mixed with fire.

"A real one," he continued, jaw tightening. "Not those movie-type boys who pose for clout. My father runs things. My brother handles the dirty work. And me... I was born into it."

He looked up at me, eyes locked.

"The gun. The silence. The lies. They're not accidents. They're part of the world I live in."

I stared at him, trying to find something—anything—in his expression that said he was joking. Lying. Messing with me like he always did.

But there was nothing.

Just truth.

Real, heavy, dangerous truth.

He took a slow step closer.

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," I whispered.

He tilted his head, gaze sharp. "Aren't you scared of me?"

That question landed like a punch in my chest.

Was I?

Because everything in my brain screamed yes—but my legs didn't move, my mouth didn't open, and my damn heart was still flipping like it hadn't just been shattered a second ago.

"I don't know," I said again, softer.

He let out a breath that sounded part relieved, part frustrated. "You should be."

Leo didn't stop.

He took another step forward, then another—until I had no more room left to back away.

My spine hit the wall behind me.

He was too close now. Way too close.

His hand came up—slow, deliberate—and brushed the side of my face. Calloused fingertips grazing my cheek like he had every right to.

I swallowed hard, the heat creeping up my neck impossible to ignore.

Then, with a crooked smirk, he leaned in and murmured, "You afraid now… baby girl?"

I blinked.

Did he just—

"What the hell did you just call me?" I snapped, face going full furnace mode.

His smirk grew wicked. "Don't like it?"

"I'm not a girl. And I'm definitely not your baby," I huffed, shoving his hand away—not too hard, not too fast. Just enough to pretend like I wasn't melting on the inside.

Leo chuckled. "Touchy."

"You're insufferable."

"Yet you're still here."

I hated how right he was.

Before I could throw another comeback, he finally backed off—just a step—but the space between us still felt dangerously thin.

"Answer me honestly, Kael," he said, this time quieter. "Gun or not, past or not… are you afraid of me?"

I stared up at him.

Was I?

"I should be," I muttered. "But you're not that scary."

"Mm," he hummed, brushing a finger over my jaw again—more gently this time. "We'll see about that."

Leo had leaned in so close I could feel his breath ghost over my skin.

His fingers brushed my jaw as he whispered,

"Are you afraid now… baby girl?"

My entire soul twitched.

"I told you," I muttered, stepping back till I bumped into the edge of his desk, "stop calling me that. I'm not scared."

He smirked, head tilting slightly. "Then why are you blushing like you just got caught stealing candy?"

I opened my mouth to argue, probably to say something brilliant and cutting—but fate didn't let me.

SLAM.

The office door creaked open, a sharp voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Mr. Leo."

We both turned toward the source.

There, standing in the doorway with a clipboard in hand and annoyance written all over his face, was Mr. Steven—Leo's manager. Tall, salt-and-pepper hair, black polo tucked into slacks, and stress lines deep enough to hold regret from three previous lives.

Leo sighed under his breath. "What now?"

Mr. Steven raised a brow. "We have a situation. That drunkhead from last night? The one who flipped a table and broke the back railing?" He waved the clipboard. "He's filing a complaint. We need to settle this now, or the owners will throw a tantrum."

Leo gave me a final glance—eyes still playful, but dulled by reality creeping in.

He straightened. "I'll deal with it."

As he brushed past me, he paused for a second—his hand brushing my shoulder with intentional softness.

"Stay here," he muttered, close to my ear. "And don't snoop through my desk. Unless you're into secrets."

I didn't respond.

Because my heart was busy doing gymnastics and my brain had shut off for maintenance.

Mr. Steven's gaze lingered on me for a moment before muttering under his breath, "This better not be another scandal," and walked off behind Leo.

The door clicked shut.

I stood alone in Leo's office, surrounded by silence, and chaos buzzing under my skin.

LEO'S POV

I wasn't sure what was more fun—watching Kael flinch like a skittish cat, or the fact that he still thought he could hide how much he was affected.

I leaned in, my fingers brushing that sharp jawline, and whispered,

"Are you afraid now… baby girl?"

He twitched, all stiff defiance and red-tipped ears.

God, he was adorable when he got offended. Like a kitten pretending to be a tiger.

"I told you," he muttered, trying to act cool while bumping into my desk like a baby deer on ice, "stop calling me that. I'm not scared."

I smirked.

"Then why are you blushing like you just got caught stealing candy?"

I was going to press him more, maybe lean in further, make him squirm just a bit—

SLAM.

I groaned under my breath.

Of course.

"Mr. Leo."

I turned, already annoyed, but unsurprised to see Mr. Steven standing in the doorway like doom in khakis.

Clipboard in one hand, disappointment on his face, and a list of problems I didn't want to deal with.

"We have a situation. That drunkhead from last night? Flipped a table, broke the railing—he's filing a complaint. The owners are breathing down my neck."

I glanced at Kael.

Shame. I was just starting to have fun.

I rolled my eyes and stepped past him, fingers brushing his shoulder as I leaned down.

"Stay here."

My voice dropped. "And don't snoop through my desk. Unless you're into secrets."

He didn't say anything.