Chapter 68: Winter Gala Tension

Lisa’s POV

The first thing I noticed about the Ottawa Winter Corporate Gala was the cold.

Not the crisp, clean winter air outside — I was used to that. It was the cold inside the grand ballroom of the Château Laurier, the kind that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with power. Every smile was sharpened. Every handshake carried a calculation. Diamonds and watches glittered under the chandelier lights like quiet threats. This was where alliances bloomed and died in silk and satin.

And I had walked straight into it.

My heels clicked softly over the marble floor as I stepped through the entrance with the rest of the coalition executives. We were a picture of unity — tailored suits, polished hair, measured confidence. On the outside, I looked like a woman completely in control. Inside, my heart had already grown restless.

Because I felt him before I saw him.

A shift in the room. A subtle change in the air, like a storm beginning to gather its courage.

Then I turned… and there he was.

Leo.

He stood near the entrance, framed by gold-trimmed columns, looking like he belonged in a different world entirely. The dark suit hugged his shoulders perfectly, the white shirt crisp against his skin, no tie, just that slight rebellious edge that was unmistakably him. His hair was brushed back, his jaw set in that familiar, unreadable line. Confidence radiated from him in a way that was both controlled and dangerous.

And his eyes… were already on me.

My breath caught for half a second — a traitorous, fragile moment — before I forced it to steady. I didn’t look away, though. I couldn’t. Awareness sparked between us, as sharp and electric as it had ever been. People passed between us, laughing, greeting, toasting, but in that instant, the space shrank until it was only him and me.

Two hearts pretending not to recognise the same storm.

“He came alone,” one of the executives beside me murmured under her breath.

I gave a small, controlled nod and kept walking.

But seconds later, I felt him near me.

Warmth brushed close to my side — subtle, careful, deliberate.

“You look stunning,” he said quietly, for my ears only.

I didn’t turn my head. “You weren’t invited by our coalition.”

“I wasn’t invited at all,” he replied smoothly. “I make it a habit not to wait for permission.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

“And yet here you are, still orbiting me,” I murmured as I accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter.

“Or maybe,” he countered, closer now, “you’re orbiting me and you just don’t like the truth of it.”

My fingers tightened briefly around the stem of the glass.

“Careful, Leo. The walls here have ears.”

His voice softened. “Then let them learn something real for once.”

He didn’t touch me. Not yet. But his presence was as tangible as a hand on my back — subtle, protective, and somehow defiant.

Eyes followed us. I sensed it. The whispers, the recognition, the speculation. Powerful men and women trying to understand the dynamic between us that no spreadsheet or report could fully explain.

Halfway across the room, a familiar figure formed, sharp and unwelcome.

Andre.

He stood with a group of investors, a drink in his hand, his eyes narrowing as soon as he saw Leo beside me. His jaw tightened. The pleasant expression he’d been practicing melted into something colder, more possessive.

He started moving toward us.

I felt my stomach pull tight.

Leo noticed immediately.

His body shifted just enough to block Andre’s direct approach, a subtle line being drawn without a scene.

“Stay by me,” he murmured. “He won’t make a move in public.”

“I can handle Andre,” I replied, but the edge in my voice betrayed too much.

His gaze slid to my face. “I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”

Those words landed deeper than I expected.

The orchestra began its first slow piece of the night, the lights dimming slightly as couples drifted toward the dance floor. Laughter softened, conversations dimmed to murmurs. Romance wrapped itself around the edges of a room designed for business.

Without asking, Leo extended his hand toward me.

A silent invitation.

A loaded decision.

For one moment, I hesitated. I could feel Andre watching. I could feel the weight of assumptions, politics, consequences.

But there was something in Leo’s eyes that broke through all of it.

Honesty. Protection. A quiet plea.

So I placed my hand in his.

The touch sparked through me instantly, electric, familiar, terrifying.

He guided me to the dance floor, his hand settling at my waist as though it had always known where to belong. I kept my other hand on his shoulder, too aware of the strength beneath my fingertips, the heat of him seeping through the fabric.

We began to sway.

Slow. Measured. Tense.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmured.

“Neither should I,” he replied softly. “But we’re here anyway.”

My gaze dropped to our joined hands. “People are watching.”

“Let them,” he said. “They don’t know our story. They don’t get to interrupt it.”

The music wrapped around us — strings, soft piano, a melody that felt old and intimate. For a brief moment, the gala, the business, the revenge pact, Andre, the world… faded.

All I knew was the pull between us.

Then I saw Andre again — standing just beyond the dance floor, staring at us like a man watching something being stolen.

Anger lit his features. Suspicion twisted his mouth.

Leo saw him too.

His hand tightened slightly on my back, a wordless reassurance.

“I’m not letting him hurt you again,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear.

My breath stuttered.

“You don’t get to make promises like that,” I protested.

“I already have,” he said, unwavering. “The day he touched you became my problem forever.”

The music slowed even further, almost pausing in time.

And for one dangerous second, I wanted to rest my head against his chest and forget everything else.

But I didn’t.

I lifted my face slightly, meeting his gaze.

“This is complicated,” I said.

“Everything that matters is,” he answered.

Around us, applause began as the song came to an end, couples pulling apart, reality slowly settling back into the room.

Leo didn’t let go right away.

For one heartbeat longer than necessary, he held me there.

Then he stepped back, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.

Andre was already moving, closing the distance, his expression tightly controlled again. Business smiles back in place.

“Enjoying the evening, Lisa?” he asked, though the edge underneath was unmissable.

“Yes,” I replied calmly. “Very much.”

Leo’s presence lingered beside me — silent, strong, deliberate.

Andre’s gaze flicked between us.

A silent territorial war passed between the two men, no words required.

And somewhere in the middle of that tension, in the flicker of candlelight and crystal and cold ambition, I realized something that thrilled and terrified me at the same time.

This wasn’t just business anymore, this wasn’t just revenge and neither was it just a convenient marriage.