Page 77 of The Mogul: Leonard

He leans down, pressing his lips to mine once more, his kiss deepening, his hands exploring the curve of my waist, the arch of my back. His touch is both gentle and possessive, a reminder that, in this moment, we’re both exactly where we want to be.

I unbutton his shirt slowly, savoring his gaze that skims every inch of my body. I run my fingers across his chest, resting my palm on his hammering heart. The same heart that broke into a thousand pieces but still hammers for me, for us, in this bubble we are living in right now. He deserves this moment. We deserve to be happy, even if for a few hours. Tomorrow, the problem will chase us with a vengeance, but for now, we are here, safe and happy, sharing this intimacy.

Leonard grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. He then takes my shorts and slips them down my legs, leaving them on the floor. He bends over me and kisses his way down from my jaw to the swell of my chest, slowly, oh so slowly, savoring my skin, every breath that catches in my throat, every goosebump that arises under his touch.

He takes his time, allowing us all the time we need to be happy. There is no rush, no consuming lust, but a strong, steady beat that accompanies our hearts.

I can feel the weight of him above me, the warmth of his skin against mine, and everything else—the betrayal, the tension, the fear of what comes next—fades away. There’s only this, only us, tangled together, finding peace in each other in a way that feels both inevitable and absolutely right.

His hand slides beneath my panties, his fingers tracing a path along my opening, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I arch into him, my own hands exploring the expanse of his back, the strength in his shoulders. There’s a desperation in our movements, a need to hold onto something real, something solid, amidst the chaos.

When he slips his hard erection deep into my core and we move together, there’s a sense of release, of letting go of everything that’s been building between us. His touch is like a balm, soothing the raw fear and grounding me in a way that nothing else has. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, a rhythm that matches my own.

I wrap my legs around his and move to meet his thrust, knowing that here, with him, is the only place I want to be. And when the climax hits me with wave after wave of immense pleasure, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into my chest. His arms wrap around my waist in response.

“Don’t let me go,” I breathe in his ear. And I don’t mean just now. I don’t want to slip between his fingers when this storm ceases and the sun shines again.

“Never, I will never let you go,” he says, staring straight into my soul, and I know he means it.

We lie tangled together on the couch, breathing slowly, our hearts returning to a normal pace. His arm is wrapped around me, holding me close, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. There’s a quiet peace in the room, a sense of calm that feels almost fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. But for now, it’s enough.

He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with a depth of emotion that surprises me.

I lift my head to look at him, studying the lines of his face, the vulnerability that lingers in his eyes. “For what?”

“For being here,” he says simply, his hand tightening around mine. “For not walking away.”

I smile, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest. “I couldn’t even if I tried,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper. And it’s true. No matter how complicated things get, no matter how tangled our lives become, I know I’m here for the long haul.

31

Leonard

In the anonymous, plain hotel room, I adjust my headphones, fighting back the urge to smash my fist into the table. Oliver’s voice drifts through the earpiece, calm and almost cheerful, as if he’s discussing the weather. He’s way too relaxed for someone committing a federal crime. How many times has he done this? How long has he been passing information behind my back, taking everything we built together and selling it to whoever would pay his price?

Beside me, Roxanne is facing the monitors, her expression intense and focused. Her fingers tap lightly on the table, betraying a tension as she listens. She glances my way from time to time. Her eyes scan my face as if she’s checking to make sure I’m holding up. I can feel her worry, her silent encouragement, but it only makes the anger in me burn hotter because I’m here, powerless, while my world crumbles.

On the other side, Raphael sits with a deep scowl, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes locked on the screen. Harris, the FBI agent, monitors the recording. His face is unreadable but professional as he takes notes. This is routine for him, just another case, just another criminal to put behind bars. But for me, this isn’t just about justice or even business—this is a betrayal on the deepest level.

The audio comes through clearly, and we hear Oliver’s voice again. He’s talking to another man, our so-called “first buyer,” who decided his freedom is more valuable than more money. They’ve set this up to look like a typical transaction, the man who bought the information in the first place pretending to act as the intermediary for a new client who’s supposedly interested in our data. The first buyer has immunity now, thanks to a deal with the FBI, so all we need is for Oliver to give them the stolen data and a real exchange of money through his computer. Once it’s done, they’ll seize his device, securing every damn piece of evidence.

I grind my teeth as Oliver’s friendly tone comes through the headphones. It’s the same voice he used every day in the office, the same voice he used to assure me that we were in this together. And now he’s selling all our secrets—my secrets, of the companies I built from scratch without him—like it’s nothing. My fingers curl into fists, and my pulse roars in my ears. If I go in there right now, it will take everything Harris and Raphael have to keep me from tearing him apart.

Harris glances at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Leonard, you’re doing fine. I know it must be difficult for you but we need this to be clean. You can’t mess this up with some rash decision.”

“Trust me,” I mutter, “I’m trying very hard not to kill him.”

On the screen, Oliver’s face comes into view as he sets up his laptop. They’re preparing for the transaction. Harris gives me a nod, indicating that they’re doing exactly as planned. Roxanne’s hand rests on my arm, a silent reminder that she’s here with me, that she understands. It’s the smallest gesture, but it grounds me and keeps me from doing something reckless.

I lean forward, my eyes fixed on the monitor, watching as Oliver’s expression darkens. His eyes narrow with concentration as he initiates the transfer. I can see the familiar interface on his laptop, the same one we designed together in the early days, back when we were nothing more than two friends with a shared vision and enough stubbornness to keep going when no one else believed in us.

And now he’s using that same interface to betray me.

It feels surreal as we watch the transaction going smoothly. Oliver types a few keys. He’s almost smirking as the guy initiates the money transfer—a lot of money. The buyer plays his part like his life depends on it—which is actually true, considering the situation. He acts excited, going so far as to flatter Oliver’s skill. Oliver, a man I don’t recognize anymore, takes pleasure in the praise, his ego clearly soaring more than ever.

“There we go,” Oliver says smoothly, and a notification pops up on the screen, confirming the transfer.

“Payment’s cleared,” the buyer says. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

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