~Leon's POV~
Beck stopped folding and finally looked at me. He offered a slight, sad smile that reached his eyes but carried no warmth.
"No," he said softly. "I'm not scared. Because you aren't nearly as scary as my parents."
The way he said it, with such quiet, resigned certainty, sent a chill down my spine. He went back to the packing, leaving the heavy weight of his words hanging in the air between us.
~Becklan's POV~
"No," I said softly. "I'm not scared. Because you aren't nearly as scary as my parents."
It was the truth. Maybe Leon hated me. Maybe he really did think I was ugly and that I didn't fit into his high-society circle. He had a sharp tongue and a cruel way of reminding me of my place, but at least he didn't hurt me physically. His harsh words were just noise compared to the life I'd left behind.
Sure, there was a side of him that was kind, like the medicine this morning or letting me stay, even if that kindness never seemed to last.
Don't get me wrong; I still hated him. I hadn't forgotten how he'd crushed my dreams of being a model and turned me into his servant.
I still fantasized about the day I could finally get my revenge or even punch him if I got the chance. But I had realized something important: if I lashed out and he chased me away, I'd have nowhere to go. I refused to go back to that house, and I refused to end up on the streets.
Working for him was a privilege others would have killed for. He was powerful, attractive, and wealthy, and it was only natural that he demanded impossible standards. He was right, someone like me didn't belong in his world. But from now on, I refused to let his insults get under my skin. All that mattered was my safety and having a roof over my head.
But then, a wicked thought crossed my mind.
He called me a "bony body"? He called me "ugly"? Fine. Then I would use this so‑called ugly face and this so‑called bony body to drive him insane, to seduce him until he was forced to admit he was wrong.
I glanced down at my hands, imagining my own reflection. My body wasn't just bone, it was a work of art: lithe, elegant, and stronger than it appeared. And if I were truly so repulsive, then why couldn't he stop looking at me?
The thought of a frustrated, obsessed Leon finally admitting I was beautiful made me chuckle softly.
"What's so funny?" Leon's voice snapped me back to reality, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read me.
I quickly regained my composure, my face smoothing into a mask of professional obedience. "Nothing, sir. Just a passing thought."
By evening, the chaos of the house had finally settled into a quiet hum. The models and the bulk of the staff had departed for their flights. Only the inner circle remained: Frank, his two assistants, Leon, and me.
We shared a final dinner as a group. The atmosphere was stiff, at least for me. Leon finished first, standing up without a word and heading back to the suite. Once he was gone, Frank leaned in, his eyes full of concern.
"How are you feeling now, Beck?" he asked softly.
I shrugged, picking at my food. "I don't care what he says to me anymore. He hates me, and honestly? I hate him too."
Frank let out a small, tired laugh. "You can't hate your boss, Beck. That's a dangerous game."
"He hates his employee," I countered, looking Frank in the eye. "So, it's only fair."
Frank looked like he wanted to press further, to dig into the mess of emotions I was clearly hiding, but I wasn't in the mood for an intervention. I stood up abruptly. "I should go say goodnight to my boss before he finds a reason to fire me."
Frank smiled at that, and I made my way to Leon's room. I knocked, and he opened the door, turning back into the room as if expecting me to follow him like a shadow. He took a few steps before realizing the sound of my footsteps had stopped.
He turned around, leaning against the edge of a table. "Why are you just standing there?"
"I'm not staying in here tonight," I said firmly, gripping the strap of my trousers.
He raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening. "Why?"
"Since everyone has left and there are plenty of empty rooms, I thought I'd take one of the models' rooms. I'd prefer my own space."
Leon stared at me for a long beat, his gaze cold and calculating. "Or are you planning on spending the night in Frank's room?"
"No! Mr. President, absolutely not," I said, my voice rising in surprise.
"Fine," Leon said, his voice dropping into a low, ominous tone. "If you want to stay alone, that's your choice. But I should warn you... I overheard some of the models complaining about this floor. They mentioned weird sounds in the hallways... scratching behind the walls. One of them was convinced the vacant rooms are haunted."
My heart did a violent somersault. I had a secret, paralyzing fear of ghosts. My bravado evaporated instantly. I looked down the long, dimly lit hallway behind me, and suddenly every shadow looked like a reaching hand.
"On second thought," I stammered, stepping quickly into the room and shutting the door behind me with a loud thud. "It's probably more efficient if I stay here to make sure you wake up on time for the flight."
Leon didn't say a word, I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smirk dance across his lips. I didn't wait for a retort; I scrambled toward the bed and dove under the heavy duvet, burying myself so deep only my eyes were visible. I wasn't taking any chances with the supernatural, I'd much rather deal with a grumpy boss than a restless spirit.
"I thought you were going to sleep alone?" Leon teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence as he stood by the edge of the bed.
"No, Mr. President," I mumbled from under the covers, my voice muffled by the fabric. "I just realized it's dangerous for you to sleep alone. I'm being generous. I'm staying here to protect you, boss."
Leon let out a low, dry laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. It sounded so hollow in the quiet room that for a second, I couldn't tell if he was the one haunting me. Whatever he was, I wasn't coming out. I squeezed my eyes shut, listening to the rustle of the sheets as he climbed into the bed beside me.
"Goodnight, Mr. President," I whispered, refusing to peek out.
"Goodnight, ugly," he replied.
I didn't let his words get to me. Instead, I let out a quiet chuckle under the safety of the duvet. Keep calling me that. Keep deceiving yourself, I thought. I drifted off to sleep with the satisfying knowledge that, no matter what the man beside me said, I was undeniably a beautiful, sexy man.
The next morning, just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, the car arrived to collect us. The guard coordinated seamlessly with the drivers, and our luggage was loaded with meticulous precision.
Once everything was ready, we departed the accommodation, heading straight for the airport to begin our journey home.
As we settled into the back of the car, the quiet was broken by Leon's voice. He leaned back against the leather seat, a smug look on his face.
"I'm hoping you won't cry during the flight this time," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.
I stiffened, looking out the window. "I don't cry during flights, Mr. President."
"Oh, really?" He let out a short, mocking hum. "You should have seen your face the first time you fled. You were practically tearing up. One bit of turbulence and you looked like you were ready to break."
I bit my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of…