Chapter 47: Not a Plan

Sofia's POV

I didn’t sit down right away. I just stood in the middle of Leandro’s office, arms wrapped around myself like armor, as if doing that could keep the humiliation from eating me alive.

It couldn’t.

He moved quietly around the space, poured a glass of something amber for himself, then paused and offered it to me instead.

I took it with a soft thank you, and swallowed a mouthful without thinking. It burned — not unpleasantly.

“She always like that?” he asked finally.

I let out a dry laugh. “Worse.”

He nodded, leaning on the edge of his desk. “Do you want the rest of the day off?”

“No,” I answered immediately. “If I go home now, she’ll show up there too. Or wait outside. Or blow up my phone. Besides, I don’t want to sit alone with her voice echoing in my head.”

His eyes softened. “Okay.”

Just that — okay. No pushing. No pity. Just space.

“I haven’t seen her in almost two years,” I said quietly. “She only ever reaches out when she needs something. Rent. Groceries. Help with a bill she pretended to forget about. I stopped picking up after the last time.”

“What happened?”

“She tried to guilt me into paying off a loan she took under my name. A big one. I didn’t even know she had my information until it hit my credit.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” I let out a shaky breath. “She always says she raised me, that I owe her. But I raised myself, really. She was around, sure—but never the way a mother should be.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Leandro asked, “Does anyone else know?”

“Bri does. I’ve never told anyone else.” I met his gaze. “I’ve learned not to. People either feel bad for you or use it against you.”

“I’m not either,” he said.

I nodded. “I know.”

And I did. That’s why I hadn’t shut down completely. That’s why my chest didn’t feel like it was caving in just yet.

Leandro pushed off the desk and walked toward me slowly, stopping when he was just a few feet away. His voice lowered.

“I know what it’s like,” he said. “To be let down by someone who should’ve protected you.”

I looked up at him. “You’re talking about your father?”

He gave the barest nod. “Among others.”

That fragile silence returned. The kind that made my heart beat faster for reasons I didn’t understand. I was still rattled, still raw… but the way he looked at me right then—calm, sure, like nothing about me scared him—made my breath catch.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I murmured.

“I’m not.”

I blinked. “You’re not?”

He stepped closer. “No. I want to know all of it, Sofia. Not just the fire. Not just the bite in your voice or the attitude when someone steps out of line. I want the parts no one else sees too.”

My heart stuttered.

He was too close now.

Too honest.

“I don’t need saving,” I whispered, unsure why I said it, but meaning it with every fiber of me.

“I know,” he replied, voice dropping. “But I still want to be here.”

That did something to me. Broke down a wall I didn’t even realize I’d built around him. Around this.

I tilted my chin up, eyes never leaving his.

And he kissed me.

The kiss wasn’t wild. It wasn’t rushed or messy or desperate.

It was… quiet.

Like we had all the time in the world.

Like he was memorizing the way I tasted, the way my breath hitched, the way my lips trembled just a little when I leaned in closer.

Leandro kissed me like he wasn’t going anywhere. And I kissed him like I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

His hand rested at the curve of my waist, not too high, not too low — just right. Like he was anchoring me, grounding me, reminding me that no matter what happened outside that office door, I was safe here. I was seen.

I wrapped my arms around his neck slowly, fingers brushing the back of his hair, testing the softness, the warmth. He hummed against my lips, just a low sound from deep in his chest that made something flutter low in my stomach.

He pulled back — just a little. Just enough to look at me.

His forehead touched mine. His breath was warm.

“You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

His eyes searched mine. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

That small, dangerous smile played on his lips again. “Good.”

Then he kissed me again. A little deeper this time. Slower.

His hand moved — up my back, along my spine — barely touching, just brushing enough to make me shiver. My fingers slid down to the collar of his shirt, playing with the first button. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t planning. I was just moving with him, caught in this strange pull that had been there since the beginning.

He stepped between my legs, and I could feel him — the solid weight of him, the heat radiating off his body, the restraint. God, the restraint.

Leandro could’ve taken more. I could’ve let him. But he didn’t.

He kissed the corner of my mouth. My jaw.

His lips grazed my neck, slow and soft like he was testing how much I could take. My eyes fluttered shut. I bit down on a soft moan. His hand found my thigh, fingers resting there like they belonged.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against my skin.

“No, I’m not.”

He smiled. “You're lying.”

I opened my eyes. “You’re really enjoying this.”

“You have no idea.”

His hand moved a little higher, just under the hem of my dress, but not far enough. Not yet.

And I didn’t stop him.

I didn’t want to.

His lips were back on mine, and this time I kissed him harder, pulling him closer until there was barely space between us. My legs wrapped tighter around him. I could feel the tension in his arms, the tight hold he had on himself, like if he let go, we’d spiral.

But maybe I wanted that. Just a little.

I kissed him again, slower now. A push and pull. A quiet need that said don’t stop but also don’t rush.

He pulled back again, just enough to meet my eyes.

“This isn’t how I planned today,” I whispered.

“No?”

I shook my head. “Definitely didn’t include making out with my boss in his office after my mother showed up screaming.”

His gaze softened, but his voice stayed low and teasing. “Maybe we should kiss more often. You’re actually relaxed.”

I smiled. “You’re annoying.”

“You like it.”

He leaned in again and brushed his lips over mine once, twice, like he was testing how far he could go without breaking me.

Spoiler alert — I was already broken. I’d been falling for this man long before today.

And he knew it.

He kissed the tip of my nose. “I’m not gonna rush you.”

“I know.”

He touched my cheek again, thumb brushing softly.

“I want you to want this,” he said. “Not because you’re hurting. Not because it’s convenient. But because it’s me.”

My throat tightened.

“I do want this,” I whispered. “I want you.”