Chapter 81 -
“You should go back to your room,” Leo said finally. His voice was back under control now, flat and emotionless. The Enforcer’s voice. “This was a mistake.”
“No it was not,” Nia said, but her own voice wavered slightly. The rejection was starting to sink in, cutting through the whiskey and the bravado to hit somewhere tender.
“Yes it was,” Leo said. “And we are not going to repeat it. Tomorrow we will both pretend this never happened. You will go back to being my prisoner and I will go back to being your captor and things will go back to the way they were supposed to be.”
“They cannot go back,” Nia said. “Not after this. You cannot kiss someone like that and then pretend it meant nothing.”
“Watch me,” Leo said.
The words hit like a physical blow. Nia felt tears burning behind her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She would not give him that. She would not let him see how much this hurt.
“Fine,” she said, her voice cold. “If that is what you want.”
“It is what is best,” Leo said.
“For who?” Nia asked. “For you? For me? Or just for your guilt?”
Leo did not answer. He just stood there, arms crossed over his bare chest, face carefully blank. Every wall he had let down was back up, higher and thicker than before.
Nia turned toward the door. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her but she forced them to work, forced herself to walk away with whatever dignity she had left. Her hand closed around the doorknob, cold metal against her palm.
She paused, looking back over her shoulder one last time.
Leo was still standing in the middle of his room, watching her with an expression that might have been regret if he let himself feel it.
“You are a coward,” Nia said quietly. “You just kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered and now you are pushing me away. Why?” The words came out sharp, confused, her voice cracking around the edges.
Leo stayed where he was, keeping the distance between them like it was a physical barrier he needed to survive. His chest was still heaving, his hair still messed up from her fingers, his lips still swollen from their kiss. But his eyes had gone cold again, shuttered, like he was slamming doors behind them one by one.
“You are drunk,” he said. Each word came out measured, controlled, like he was reading from a script. “You are my prisoner. This is wrong on every level and it cannot happen.”
“I am also a person,” Nia shot back. Her hands were shaking so she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold herself together. “I am not just some object you get to decide things for. I have feelings, Leo. I have wants. And what I want right now is you.”
“You do not know what you want,” Leo said. He took another step back, putting even more distance between them. “You are intoxicated and emotional and you are going to wake up tomorrow and regret every second of this.”
“Stop telling me what I am going to feel!” Nia’s voice rose, echoing down the empty hallway. Somewhere in the mansion, someone was probably hearing this. She did not care. “Stop deciding for me what is real and what is not. I kissed you. I came to your room. I chose this.”
“You chose wrong,” Leo said flatly.
The words hit like a slap. Nia felt something crack open in her chest, something that had been building pressure for weeks. “This is wrong?” she asked. Her voice was quieter now, dangerous. “Kissing you is wrong? Caring about you is wrong? What about everything you just said? Was that wrong too?”
“Yes,” Leo said, but his hands were shaking. She could see them trembling at his sides, could see the way his jaw was clenched so tight it had to hurt. “All of it. Every word. Every touch. It was all a mistake.”
“You are lying,” Nia said. She took a step toward him, back into the room, refusing to let him hide behind distance and cold words. “You are lying and we both know it.”
“It does not matter,” Leo said. “Even if I meant it, even if every word was true, it does not change the facts. You are my captive. I am holding you prisoner in this house against your will. Anything that happens between us is wrong because there is a fundamental imbalance of power that makes consent impossible.”
“Is that what you think?” Nia asked. “You think I am so broken, so beaten down, that I cannot make my own choices anymore?”
“I think you are in an impossible situation,” Leo said. “I think you have spent weeks trapped in this house, surrounded by dangerous people, with no way out. I think your judgment is compromised by stress and fear and the very natural human need to find connection wherever you can. And I think I am a bastard for almost taking advantage of that.”
“You did not take advantage of anything,” Nia said, but her voice was losing its strength. Doubt was starting to creep in around the edges, whispering that maybe he was right. Maybe she was just desperate and lonely and confused. Maybe none of this was real.
“Nia.” Leo said her name like it hurt. “This cannot happen. Not tonight. Not ever. You need to go back to your room.”
“And pretend this never happened?” Nia asked. Tears were burning behind her eyes now, threatening to spill over. She blinked them back furiously. “Just go back to being your prisoner and forget that you kissed me like I was the only real thing in your world?”
“Yes,” Leo said. “That is exactly what you need to do.”
“What about what you need to do?” Nia challenged. “What about the fact that you are using Andrea’s death as an excuse to never feel anything again? What about the fact that you are so terrified of losing someone that you push everyone away before they can get close enough to hurt you?”
“That is not what this is about,” Leo said, but there was no conviction in his voice.
“Yes it is,” Nia said. “This is exactly what this is about. You felt something real for the first time in three years and it scared you so badly that you are running away from it.”
“I am not running away,” Leo said. “I am being realistic. I am protecting you.”