Lunch

Sofia's POV

The rest of the morning moved in a blur of meetings, emails, and strategic overviews I tried hard to keep up with. Working under Leandro wasn’t for the faint of heart—he expected speed, precision, and results. I admired that. But today, I was pushing through a different kind of fog.

My mind kept drifting back to the way his voice had sounded when he defended me. Cold. Lethal. Protective.

That wasn’t the usual “boss” behavior. That was personal.

I tried not to let it get to my head.

By noon, I was nursing a headache and a very stubborn craving for something fried. Leandro stepped out of his office just as I stood to stretch my legs.

I stood to grab something downstairs, but the moment I turned, his voice sliced through the quiet.

“Let’s go.”

I blinked. “Go?”

Leandro didn’t even glance up from his screen. “Lunch.”

“I was just going to grab—”

He shut his laptop with a soft click. “You’re not eating whatever cafeteria crap they serve in this building. Let’s go.”

He was already heading to the elevator.

I hesitated. But only for three seconds.

Then I followed.

We ended up at a sleek little rooftop restaurant two blocks from Rossi Group—private, quiet, all glass and greenery. Definitely not somewhere I could afford on my own.

The waiter led us to a shaded table with a view of the city skyline, and the moment we sat, Leandro loosened the top buttons of his shirt and tossed his phone facedown.

“Order whatever you want,” he said.

I did. And I ordered extra fries too. I was starving.

Lunch was… surprisingly nice.

We talked shop for the first fifteen minutes—plans for the next campaign, international partnerships, the upcoming investor review. I was proud of myself for keeping up. Leandro seemed genuinely impressed when I suggested a few content strategy shifts based on the vault weekend incident and how the media might spin it.

Then, slowly, the conversation dipped into less professional territory.

“So,” he said, sipping his sparkling water. “That apartment of yours.”

I groaned. “You’re not allowed to bring that up.”

He smirked. “It wasn’t bad.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“It was… real.” His eyes met mine. “I liked it.”

I swallowed. There was something weirdly intimate about the way he said it. Like he wasn’t just talking about my apartment.

We ate mostly in silence after that, but it wasn’t awkward. Just charged.

By the end of the workday, my head was spinning with numbers, names, and meetings. I packed up quickly, trying to make a discreet exit. I didn’t expect Leandro to still be in the office, let alone—

“I’ll drop you,” he said, already holding the elevator.

“I’m good,” I said too fast. “It’s not far.”

“I didn’t ask how far, Sofia. I said I’ll drop you.”

The man didn’t make suggestions. He made decisions.

I sighed. “Fine.”

The ride was quiet, the car humming through the city as the evening painted the buildings gold. I glanced at Leandro once or twice. He looked tired—but in that effortlessly hot way he always managed. The top two buttons of his shirt were still undone, and the watch on his wrist gleamed under the fading sunlight.

Too close. Too quiet. Too... aware.

When we pulled up in front of my apartment, I paused.

Someone was on the front steps.

Curled up in leggings, hoodie, and an attitude that could cut steel.

“Bri?”

She looked up. “Finally.”

Leandro parked, and I was already halfway out of the car.

“Bri!” I called again, practically sprinting up to her.

My best friend stood and crossed her arms as I approached. “You disappeared on me, Sof. And then you go ghost? What the hell?”

“I know, I know,” I said, pulling her into a hug despite her stiffness. “I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

“You better.”

“God, I missed you.”

“You better have,” she muttered, arms folded. “Because I was this close to reporting you missing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll explain—”

“Better.”

I turned slightly, realizing Leandro had stepped out too. He stood near the car, watching with a blank face but unreadable eyes. Bri noticed.

Her gaze sharpened instantly.

“Is that—? Leandro fucking Rossi again?"

“Yes,” I muttered under my breath. “Long story.”

Leandro raised a brow. “What?"

“Don’t ask.” I muttered.

He didn’t.

Instead, he glanced at me. “Don’t forget tomorrow. You’re presenting the campaign proposal.”

“Got it.”

Then he turned, climbed back into the car, and disappeared without another word.

Classic.

I sighed and turned back to Bri.

She crossed her arms. “Okay, you’re going to make me popcorn, pour me wine, and then tell me what the hell happened to you "

I groaned and pulled her inside. “Come on. This is going to take more than wine.”