The possessiveness in his tone surprises me. Not the protective part—Leo’s been protective of me for weeks now—but the ownership in the way he says “her.” Like I’m something that belongs to him that he’s defending.
“He’s my father,” I say, sitting down on the edge of the bed because my legs feel suddenly unsteady. “He wasn’t going to stop at just one attempt. This whole time he’s been planning something else. You don’t know what he’s capable of when someone takes what’s his.”
Leo’s expression goes dark at my words and something flashes in his eyes. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s tossing his phone onto the bed as he crosses the room and pulls me to my feet.
“Leo, what?—”
His mouth crashes onto mine.
The kiss is demanding, possessive, almost aggressive in its intensity. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, and I make a startled sound against his mouth that turns into a moan when his tongue slides against mine.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard, and his eyes are almost black with emotion.
“You’re mine now,” Leo says, his voice rough and fierce. “Not your father’s. Not anyone else’s.Mine. And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Including Connor.”
The possessiveness should anger me and make me want to argue, to remind him that I’m not property. I belong to myself. But instead it sends a wave of desire pulsing through me so intense that I have to press my thighs together.
There’s something primal about it. The way Leo’s looking at me like he’d burn the world down before he let anyone take me. The way his hands are still gripping my hips like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. The absolute certainty in his voice when he says I’m his.
It shouldn’t turn me on. But it does. Whoops.
“Say that again,” I breathe, my hands fisting in his shirt.
Leo’s eyes darken further. “You’re mine, Emma. Mine. And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.”
I kiss him this time, pouring all my complicated feelings into it—the want and the fear and the thrill and the confusion. Leo kisses me back just as fiercely, one hand sliding in my wet hair while the other stays locked on my hip.
“Um,” Dante says from the muffled speaker, awkward and uncomfortable. “Still here. Still on the phone. Really wishing I wasn’t.”
We break apart, both flushed, and I watch a slight flush creep up Leo’s neck as he remembers his consigliere is listening to all of this.
“Sorry,” Leo says, but he doesn’t sound that sorry. He picks up the phone. “I’ll call you back in ten minutes.”
“Please do,” Dante says dryly. “And maybe have that conversation about boundaries we keep meaning to have.”
Leo hangs up and turns back to me, his expression intense. “I meant what I said.”
“I know,” I reply, because I can see the truth of it in his eyes. “And that should probably bother me, but…”
“But?” Leo prompts when I don’t finish.
“But it doesn’t,” I admit. “It should. But it doesn’t.”
Later that day, after Leo’s spent hours on the phone with Dante and his other lieutenants discussing security protocols and contingency plans, he finds me in the library.
“We need to go into the city,” he says without preamble.
I look up from my book, surprised. “Huh?”
“I have a meeting with one of my suppliers,” Leo explains, leaning against the doorframe. “He’ll only deal face-to-face. He doesn’t trust phones or intermediaries.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, not understanding why I need to know this. “So…you’re telling me you’re leaving?”
“No,” Leo says, and there’s something in his expression I can’t quite read. “I’m taking you with me.”
I set my book down carefully, not quite believing what I’m hearing. “Y-you’re taking me with you?”
“Don’t get excited,” Leo says, but there’s a slight smile playing at his lips. “You’ll be in the car with guards while I’m in the meeting. But yes.”