Claire sat in the plush booth of a cozy upscale café, her legs crossed, stirring her coffee with agitation more than rhythm. Her best friend, Sam, sat across from her, arms folded and eyes sharp with exasperation.
"You need to smarten up, Claire," Sam said firmly, leaning closer across the table. "You're wasting time pretending like you don't care. Leon is rich, handsome, stable—and still single. For now."
Claire scowled. "I do care, Sam. I've done everything. I've flirted, dressed the part, laughed at his dry jokes, even tried seducing him—twice! It's like he doesn't even see me that way anymore."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Then don't stop. Someone else will come along and grab him while you're still debating what lip gloss to wear." Her voice dipped with something almost venomous. "Men like Leon don't stay unclaimed for long."
Claire's heart sank. That truth hit a little too close to home.
---
Meanwhile, in the vast glass-paneled office of the Royales Corporation, Leon sat across from Valeria, both surrounded by papers, screens, and the quiet hum of productivity. The tension that had once thickened the air between them had transformed—now replaced by an unexpected harmony.
"I still can't believe we managed to finish everything Ariana assigned," Valeria said with a hint of disbelief. "She gave us two weeks. We nailed it in four days."
Leon chuckled, closing his laptop with a satisfied sigh. "Maybe we make a better team than we thought."
Valeria offered a half-smile, brushing a loose curl behind her ear.
"Come on," Leon said, standing and stretching his arms. "We should celebrate. There's a new place downtown. High-end. You'll like it."
"I've got some paperwork to wrap up," Valeria said without looking up. "Give me fifteen."
He nodded and took a seat again, pulling out his phone and launching a game while she worked.
---
Later that evening, the soft clinking of cutlery and the elegant murmur of conversation filled the restaurant. The chandeliers sparkled like constellations above, and the smell of slow-cooked meats wafted gently through the air.
Valeria smiled as the waiter placed a platter of shawarma before her.
Leon arched a brow. "You're still eating that? Aren't you a bit old for street food cravings?"
She laughed, full and unapologetic. "Some things never get old. Like honesty. Or good shawarma."
They talked easily, drifting from casual banter to deeper topics—shared goals, work frustrations, even childhood memories. Leon found himself drawn in, watching her hands as she gestured, her eyes lighting up as she spoke about her passions.
Then, like a thunderclap in a clear sky, a sharp voice cut through the warmth of their evening.
"Leon!"
They turned.
Claire stood at the edge of their table, her fists clenched, eyes burning with fury. "I've been calling you for two days. Two days! I thought something happened to you—and here you are, flirting with this… this slut!"
Leon's face darkened, about to respond, but Valeria's voice came before his.
She rose slowly, with a commanding air that made the room tilt toward her. Her voice was calm but laced with steel.
"Mrs. Claire," she said coolly. "I'm not responsible for your boyfriend ignoring your calls. Nor is it any of my business why he chose not to answer them."
Claire's mouth opened in shock.
"And most importantly," Valeria stepped closer, her gaze unwavering, "watch your words when you're around me. I don't make idle threats—but I will make you regret disrespecting me."
She turned, walking a few steps before stopping and looking over her shoulder at Leon. Her tone softened, almost playful.
"Thanks for the food, Mr. Royales. I enjoyed our evening. You can end this kind gesture by paying the bill."
She winked and walked away, heels clicking against the marble floor, leaving silence in her wake—and Claire burning with rage.
Leon's eyes lingered on Valeria as she left, something unspoken curling in his chest.
Claire caught the look and snapped. "Why don't you just go after her, huh?"
He didn't even look at her when he spoke. "Claire, I don't want to argue. Go home. We'll talk tomorrow."
"I'm not leaving!" she barked.
He stood, finally meeting her gaze with chilling calm. "I don't want to repeat myself."
And with that, he walked past her. She stomped her foot, fuming, before turning sharply on her heels and storming out.
---
Leon stood alone outside the restaurant, the wind tugging lightly at his blazer. His jaw was clenched, brows furrowed, thoughts spinning—but then, a hand tapped his shoulder.
He turned quickly—and to his surprise, there she was.
Valeria.
"You're still here?" he asked, voice low, tinged with surprise and something else. Relief.
She smiled, her tone teasing. "Of course, Mr. Royales. You brought me here. The least you can do is drop me at my apartment like a proper gentleman."
He exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "Fair enough."
He opened the car door for her, and they slipped into the plush interior.
The ride was quiet at first, comfortable, until Leon finally spoke.
"You were amazing back there."
Valeria glanced at him. "I just don't like being disrespected. Especially not by women who think other women are threats just because they're confident."
He chuckled. "I think you just scared her."
"Good."
He grinned.
As they neared her apartment—only a few blocks from his own apartment in Royales mansion—Leon looked out the window, eyebrows raised slightly. "Huh. I never realized how close you live."
"Surprise," she said with a smirk. "Small world, you just didn't notice right?"
As he pulled up, she reached for the door handle but paused.
"Thanks for the ride, Leon. And the dinner."
He nodded. "Anytime."
For a heartbeat, something hung between them—like a thread of electricity waiting to snap.
Then, she was gone.
Leon watched her walk into the building, the light from the entrance casting a golden glow on her silhouette.
He didn't drive off immediately.
He just sat there, staring at the spot where she disappeared, wondering why her leaving suddenly felt like something he didn't want to happen again.