Dante:
We're fifteen minutes into the drive back when Riley ruins everything.
"Tell me about Leo."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. The leather creaks under my grip. I keep my eyes on the road because looking at her right now would be dangerous.
"That's not part of our contract."
The words come out colder than I intended. But cold is safe. Cold keeps distance. Cold means I don't have to think about the way she smiled at Vittorio or how she cut his chicken without being asked or how my grandfather looked at her like she was already family.
Riley is quiet for a moment. I think maybe she'll drop it. Let the subject die like I need it to.
Then her voice comes again. Softer this time.
"I'm not asking because of the contract, Dante. I'm asking because I want to understand you."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I want to understand you.
No one has said anything like that to me in ten years. Not since Leo died and I became the cold ruthless heir everyone expects. People want things from me. Money. Power. Connections. But understanding? Caring about who I am underneath the ice?
No one wants that.
Except apparently Riley does.
Something cracks in my chest. Not a big break. Just a hairline fracture in the walls I built so carefully.
"Why?" The question comes out rougher than I mean it to.
"Because you're not what I expected. And I think there's more to you than the ruthless billionaire everyone talks about."
I should shut this down. Should remind her this is business. Should keep the walls intact because letting someone in means they can hurt you later.
But I'm tired. Tired of carrying Leo's death alone. Tired of pretending I don't feel anything. Tired of being the monster everyone thinks I am.
"He was sixteen," I hear myself say. "My little brother. Annoying as hell but I loved him more than anything."
Riley doesn't speak. Just waits. Giving me space to continue or stop. The choice is mine.
I keep talking.
"There was a kidnapping. They took Leo from his boarding school. Called me because I ran the family security division. I was supposed to protect him. That was my job."
My throat tightens but I force the words out.
"They wanted ten million dollars. I thought I had leverage. Thought I could negotiate them down. Thought I was smarter than some low level kidnappers." I laugh but there's no humor in it. "I was wrong."
"Dante—"
"They killed him while I was still negotiating. Dumped his body in the East River like garbage. By the time I agreed to their price Leo had been dead for six hours."
The silence in the car is suffocating. I can feel Riley staring at me but I keep my eyes locked on the road. If I look at her I'll see pity and I can't handle that right now.
"It wasn't your fault," she says quietly.
"Wasn't it? I made the wrong call. Thought I could outsmart them. My arrogance killed my brother."
"You were trying to save him. That's not arrogance. That's love."
The words shouldn't affect me. I've heard variations of them from therapists and family members and people who didn't understand. But coming from Riley they feel different. True somehow.
"Vittorio never blamed me," I continue. "He should have. I blamed myself enough for both of us. Still do."
"Is that why you became so cold? So ruthless?"
I glance at her. She's watching me with those green eyes that see too much. No judgment. Just genuine curiosity and something that looks like concern.
"I became what I needed to become. Someone who doesn't fail. Someone who protects what's his at any cost."
"What happened to the kidnappers?"
The question hangs in the air between us. I could lie. Could pretend I let the police handle it.
But I'm tired of lying.
"They disappeared. Three men. No bodies were ever found."
Riley's eyes widen slightly but she doesn't look horrified. Doesn't pull away. Just keeps watching me with that steady gaze.
"Good," she says.
The single word surprises me. "Good?"
"They murdered a sixteen year old boy. They deserved whatever you did to them."
Something shifts in my chest. She's not afraid of what I am. Not disgusted by my violence. She understands it somehow.
Maybe because she knows what it's like to want someone to pay for the pain they caused.
"You should be scared of me," I tell her. "I killed three men and never lost sleep."
"I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of going back to Marcus. There's a difference."
Her hand reaches across the center console. Covers mine where it grips the steering wheel.
The touch is gentle. Careful. Like she's approaching a wild animal that might bite.
I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks up.
When was the last time someone touched me with kindness? With genuine care instead of wanting something?
I can't remember. Since Leo died I've kept everyone at arm's length. Business handshakes. Professional touches. Nothing real. Nothing that could hurt when it's taken away.
Riley's hand is warm against mine. Small and delicate but steady. She's not trying to fix me or save me. Just offering comfort. Connection.
It terrifies me more than any business deal or dangerous enemy ever has.
I pull my hand away. Both hands back on the wheel. Eyes forward. Walls slamming back into place.
"This is a contract, Riley. Nothing more."
The words sound harsh even to my own ears. I see her flinch in my peripheral vision. See her hand retreat to her own lap.
"I know," she says quietly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"It's fine. Just remember what this is."
The rest of the drive passes in painful silence. I ruined it. Pushed her away when she was trying to offer kindness. But it's better this way. Safer.
Letting Riley get close means eventually she'll leave. They always leave. And I can't survive losing someone else I care about.
Better to keep distance now before it's too late.
We pull into the parking garage under my building. I hand the keys to the valet. Riley gets out before I can open her door. We ride the elevator to the penthouse without speaking.
The doors open and she walks straight to her wing. Doesn't look back. Doesn't say goodnight.
I watch her go and tell myself this is what I wanted.
Distance. Boundaries. Nothing complicated.
So why does it feel like I just made a terrible mistake?
I go to my office. Try to work. Stare at my computer screen for two hours without seeing anything. Finally I give up and go to bed.
Lying in the dark I can still feel Riley's hand on mine. Can still hear her voice saying she's not scared of me. Can still see the way she looked at me like I was worth understanding.
No one has looked at me like that in ten years.
And I pushed her away.
I roll over. Punch my pillow. Try to convince myself I did the right thing. This is a contract. One year. Then she gets her money and freedom. I get my inheritance. We both move on.
Simple.
Except nothing about Riley Monroe feels simple.
I think about the way she smiled at Vittorio. The way she cut his chicken without being asked. The way my grandfather looked at her like she was already part of the family.
I think about her hand on mine. So gentle it made my chest ache.
I think about pulling away from her. About the hurt that flashed across her face before she hid it.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from Vittorio.
"She's good for you. Don't screw this up."
I almost laugh. Too late. I'm already screwing it up.
Another text comes through.
"I saw how you looked at her in the garden when you thought I wasn't watching. That wasn't pretend."
I stare at the message. Want to deny it. Want to tell Vittorio he's seeing things that aren't there.
But I can't lie to him. Not when he's dying. Not when he's the only family I have left.
So I don't respond at all.
I set the phone down. Close my eyes. Try to sleep.
But all I see is Riley's face when I pulled my hand away. The confusion. The hurt. The way she tried to apologize for offering comfort.
I've spent ten years building walls to keep people out. To protect myself from caring too much and losing everything again.
Those walls kept me safe. Kept me functional. Kept me from feeling anything that could destroy me.
But Riley walked into my life with her green eyes and her quiet strength and her gentle touches and suddenly the walls don't feel like protection anymore.
They feel like a prison.
And lying here in the dark thinking about her hand on mine, I realize something terrifying.
I'm in serious trouble.
Because this stopped being just a contract the moment she asked me about Leo. The moment she said she wanted to understand me. The moment her touch made me feel human again for the first time in a decade.
I told myself I could keep this simple. Professional. Emotionless.
I was wrong.
And I have no idea what to do about it.