Page 70 of The Mogul: Leonard

I pour every emotion into those words—every ounce of confidence I can muster—determined to crush the uncertainty in her eyes. Her gaze softens, the doubt slowly giving way to something less daunting, and I hold on, hoping she will feel better.

I lower my lips to hers, kissing her softly, letting everything I feel pour into this simple gesture. The kiss isn’t rushed or intense, but instead, full of meaning—an unspoken promise that everything will be fine. She responds gently, her fingertips grazing my cheek as if she’s feeling the same—as if she understands without a single word.

When we break apart, she nestles against my chest on the couch, her warmth seeping into me as she lets out a sigh. She reaches out, her hand resting lightly over my heart, where it’s hammering beneath her touch. I pull her closer, wrapping my arm around her, and she lays her head on my shoulder.

For a few moments, we sit in comfortable silence, her breathing slow and even, her hand rising and falling with each movement of my chest. The quiet is only interrupted by the faint sounds coming from outside, but here, in this cocoon, it’s as if the world has shrunk to just the two of us.

Her breathing becomes softer, slower, and I realize she’s drifting off to sleep. I look down and see her lashes resting softly on her cheeks, her face relaxed, a gentle peace settling over her features. She’s finally let go, finally given in to the exhaustion that’s been weighing on her. I smile, a warmth spreading through me, relieved that she’s allowing herself this moment of rest. She’s been so relentless, always pushing herself, always on high alert, never sparing a thought for her own limits.

I adjust her slightly so she’s more comfortable, and she unconsciously shifts, nuzzling closer to me. Her wild, free blonde and pink strands spill over my shirt, contrasting beautifully against the dark fabric. The way her hair fans out reminds me of her spirit—untamed, young, and full of life. I trail my fingers lightly through a few of those strands, marveling at how something so simple could make me feel so grounded.

As I sit here with her sleeping against me, it hits me just how lucky I am. Finding someone who shares the same drive, values, and unrelenting will to see things through. It feels like a rare gift, a blessing I never expected. We came to this moment from entirely different paths, worlds apart in some ways, yet here we are, closer than I’ve ever been with anyone.

I study her face, memorizing every detail in the gentle glow of the lamplight. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted, and a hint of a smile still lingers from moments before. Her expression has a vulnerability, a softness I don’t often get to see. She’s always so fierce, so determined. But now, asleep and at peace, she looks more like the person she rarely lets the world see.

I let my head lean back against the couch, savoring the stillness, and allow myself just to be. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t need to keep up my guard; I don’t need to worry about the next challenge or the next step. In this moment, there’s no agenda, no need to prove anything. Just her, asleep in my arms, and the quiet, steady rhythm of her breathing against me.

As the minutes slip by, I wonder how we got here. How two people who seemed so different could end up so similar, with lives that feel entwined, like two pieces of the same puzzle. I’ve never known this kind of connection before, this effortless closeness. It’s not just an attraction; it’s something deeper that goes beyond words. She knows my flaws, my sharp edges, the parts of me I’m still trying to soften. And yet, she’s here, without hesitation, allowing herself to be this close.

The thought stirs something profound within me. It’s a kind of contentment I’m not used to, a warmth I don’t want to let go of. This understanding we’ve built feels like a foundation I didn’t know I was missing. And as I watch her, feeling her small, steady breaths against me, I realize I don’t want this to end.

My gaze drifts to how her hand rests lightly against my chest, right over my heart, as if she knows where she belongs even in her sleep. I cover her hand with mine just to feel that connection, and a small smile tugs at my lips. There’s a calm that comes with her presence, an anchor that grounds me, a reminder that even in this unpredictable world, there’s something solid, something real, between us.

Time seems to stretch, each second holding a weight I can’t describe. I feel the comfort of her warmth, the soothing effect of her breathing, and for once, I allow myself to imagine a future—one where moments like this aren’t sparse and occasional. One where I don’t have to let go.

In the gentle silence, my thoughts settle, and I feel a peace I’ve rarely known. I don’t want to disturb her. I don’t want to risk breaking this fragile moment. So I sit there, holding her close, and let myself feel it all. The gratitude, the awe, the spark of hope that maybe this connection isn’t something I’ll have to say goodbye to.

The night continues humming around us, but in this little bubble, there’s nothing but us, locked in this quiet intimacy. As her head rests against my shoulder and her hair brushes against my cheek, I know that whatever comes next, this moment will be one I’ll never forget.

A soft, insistent beeping pulls me from the light, restless sleep I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen into. Roxanne stirs against my chest, a warm, steady presence, and it takes me a few moments to understand what woke me. My mind is foggy, but then I remember—the computer, the code we set to track our intruder. My heartbeat picks up as reality sharpens my mind.

“What is it?” I ask, my voice thick with sleep, hoping this isn’t just another false alarm.

She shifts beside me, rubbing her eyes, her body warm against mine. “What time is it?”

I glance at my watch. “Four in the morning.”

She groans, sitting up a little straighter and brushing her hair from her face. But then her gaze lands on the screen, and all the sleep leaves her eyes in an instant. Her whole body goes rigid. “It’s the code,” she whispers, her voice tight with excitement and disbelief. “They took the bait.”

A rush of adrenaline surges through me, making me forget my exhaustion. For the first time in days, something real and solid is within reach. After months of chasing shadows, we might finally have a lead. But even as the excitement builds, an undesired sense of unease twists in my gut, a feeling I can’t quite ignore.

Roxanne’s expression shifts from excitement to confusion, her brows knitting as she studies the screen. I can see her eyes darken as she processes what she’s seeing, her whole face tightening in a way that sets off all my alarms. Slowly, she puts a hand over her mouth, her fingers trembling.

“What is it?” I ask, feeling a strange knot of dread beginning to twist in my chest.

Her eyes are locked on the screen, her voice barely a whisper. “I know this IP address.”

I frown, the meaning sinking in slowly. “You… know it?”

She nods, her voice wavering. “It’s my old address—the apartment I used to live in.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “Your old place?” The words feel heavy in my mouth. “You never mentioned moving.”

She lets out a small breath, and her gaze is a bit ashamed. “I didn’t tell you,” she admits, her voice soft. “In the beginning, I didn’t want anyone to know, especially you, because you were bossy and terribly annoying. Then it just…never came up.”

The confession lands like a stone on my chest, her honesty mixed with regret. I can’t help but feel a faint sting at the realization that she’d kept something so significant from me. But there’s no time to deal with my hurt feelings—this revelation has more critical implications. Why would her old address be tied to the intrusion?

“We need to go there,” she says, her voice steadying, her resolve sharpening her gaze. “Whoever is behind this might have left something, or they could still be using it somehow.”

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