Chapter 101 Walking on His Arm
Leitana took one more wobbly step, her ankle rolling dangerously in the four-inch heels. She yelped.“Aish!” and instinctively grabbed fistfuls of Ravial’s suit jacket to keep from toppling.
Ravial caught her instantly, one arm banding around her waist like iron, the other hand sliding down to grip her hip, steadying her so completely she might as well have been floating.
He looked down at her, blindfold hiding his eyes but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth was unmistakable.
“You’re walking like a new born baby deer,” he said, voice low and dry, the tiniest thread of amusement woven through the usual steel. “I should’ve carried you in.”
Leitana pouted up at him, cheeks flaming. “Yu say mi can walk! Yu put de heels on mi!”
“I said I’d be there every step,” he corrected calmly, already guiding her forward with slow, carefree movements so she could lean most of her weight on him. “I didn’t say you’d look completely graceful doing it.”
She huffed, half-laughing, half-mortified. “Yu wicked. Yu laughing inside, mi know it.”
His thumb stroked once over her hip. “Maybe.”
She swatted his chest lightly. “Mean.”
He leaned down, lips brushing her temple. “You’re cute when you stumble. Makes me want to lock you in the car and never let you walk again.”
“Ravial!” she squeaked, scandalized, but giggled harder.
They reached the entrance of the sleek downtown studio, a towering glass building with black marble floors and dramatic lighting that screamed high fashion. Security parted immediately when they saw Ravial; no questions, no ID check, just wide eyes and quick nods.
The moment they stepped inside, the energy shifted.
The cavernous space was alive: blinding white lights on stands, softboxes diffusing glow over a minimalist set, a glossy black platform, a single oversized modern chair upholstered in emerald velvet, massive abstract backdrops in metallic silver and deep teal. A thumping electronic beat played low through hidden speakers. Assistants darted everywhere, adjusting reflectors, pinning stray hairs, steaming garments on rolling racks. At the center of it all stood Willow Rose, long blonde waves, razor-sharp cheekbones, wearing a barely-there silver chainmail dress that caught every light like liquid mercury. She was mid-pose, one hip cocked, chin lifted, eyes smoldering at the camera.
Then the whispers started.
“Is that…?”
“Mr. Ashbourne.”
“With his wife?”
“Why are they here?”
The crew kept shooting, cameras couldn’t stop mid-roll but heads turned. Phones subtly angled. Eyes widened.
Willow faltered for half a second, her perfect pose slipping before the photographer barked, “Eyes here, Willow! Chin up!”
Jim Caruso appeared almost instantly, striding toward them with practiced calm, though his smile was tighter than usual.
“Sir,” he said, inclining his head to Ravial first, deferential, but not groveling. “Mrs. Ashbourne. This is… unexpected. A pleasure, as always.”
Leitana smiled politely. “Good afternoon, Mr. Caruso. Mi just come watch di shoot. Mi wan see how tings work.”
Jim’s eyes flicked to Ravial, seeking permission, guidance, anything before returning to her. “Of course. Anything you need. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
Ravial said nothing, leitan shook her head with a small smile. “No tank yu,”
Jim retreated quickly, melting back toward the set.
Then Lafu and Stacy appeared, weaving through the chaos, both dressed in black-on-black workwear, Lafu with a camera strap around her neck, Stacy carrying a makeup pouch.
Lafu bowed her head slightly toward Ravial. “Mr. Ashbourne.”
Stacy followed suit. “Good day sir.”
Ravial gave the barest dip of his chin, acknowledgment, cold and minimal.
Leitana nudged his ribs gently. “Ravial, dey greet yu. Reply.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Ravial’s head turned fractionally toward the two women.
“Lafu. Stacy,” he said, voice flat, emotionless, but he said their names.
Both women blinked, stunned.
Lafu recovered first. “Thank you, sir.”
Stacy managed a quick, nervous smile.
Leitana beamed up at him like he’d just given them the moon.
Then she pulled gently out of his hold. “Mi go wid dem now. Mi be okay.”
Ravial didn’t release her hand immediately. His thumb stroked once over her knuckles, silent warning, silent promise.
His head tilted toward Lafu and Stacy.
They both straightened instinctively.
“Keep her safe,” he said quietly. “Or answer to me.”
They nodded fast.
“Yes, sir.”
Leitana giggled under her breath, squeezing his fingers one last time before slipping away.
Ravial watched her go, emerald jumpsuit swaying, heels still wobbly but determined until she disappeared into the cluster of lights and people.
Lafu and Stacy flanked her like bodyguards.
“Damn,” Stacy muttered under her breath as they walked. “He actually said our names. I thought he only spoke to scare people.”
Lafu laughed nervously. “I nearly dropped my camera. He’s… terrifying.”
Leitana glanced back over her shoulder, Ravial hadn’t moved. He stood exactly where she’d left him, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly, watching her.
She smiled shyly and gave him a tiny wave.
He inclined his head, just once.
Then she turned forward again, heart racing.
They reached the edge of the set where Jules, Marco, and Anya waited, half-hidden behind a lighting rig.
Jules gave a low whistle. “You brought the boss. Bold move.”
Marco grinned. “And he let you walk away. Miracles do happen.”
Anya leaned in, voice low. “Diego’s not here, he’s in the editing suite trying to match timestamps with the retreat dates we found in Celeste’s files.”
Leitana nodded seriously. “Good. We need dat.”
Her eyes drifted to the set, Willow mid-pose, laughing at something the photographer said, tossing her hair like she knew every camera loved her.
Lafu followed her gaze. “She’s almost done with the solo shots. After this setup, there’s a quick wardrobe change, then group shots with the other girls. That’s our window, when she’s off-set, grabbing water, checking her phone. She’s most chatty then.”
Stacy smirked. “And vain. Compliment her earrings or her glow and she’ll tell you her entire life story.”
Marco nodded. “We’ll hover nearby, Jules can pretend to adjust lighting, I’ll touch up her makeup if needed. You just… be you. Sweet. Curious. She won’t see you as a threat.”
Leitana took a deep breath, smoothing her blazer.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Mi ready.”
She glanced back once more.
Ravial was still there, watching.
Always watching.
And suddenly the nerves felt smaller.
Because he had her back.
And everyone in this room knew it.