His Property: A Billionaire Possession Romance

Leon stood at the window of his office, phone pressed to his ear, jaw clenched.

Behind him, the skyline stretched wide and glittering, but his world felt narrow.

Compressed.

Tight.

"You understand what this means, Leon," his executive director said. "Three months in Tokyo. A seat on the UN advisory board. A billion-dollar expansion deal. This is your legacy."

"And if I decline?"

"They'll offer it to Dahl. And you know what happens if he becomes the face of Castellan Holdings."

He didn't need the reminder.

Dahl didn't believe in limits. Or ethics.

Leon had spent his career keeping the company powerful and clean.

And this deal was the final step.

He had everything to gain.

Everything except time with her.

When he walked into the penthouse that night, Aria was curled up on the couch, a paperback novel in one hand and a wineglass in the other.

She looked up.

Smiled softly. "Long day?"

He didn't answer.

Just moved to sit beside her.

Too close.

Too tense.

She picked up on it immediately.

"Leon?"

He exhaled. "I have to make a decision."

"What kind?"

He looked at her.

And for the first time in days, he hesitated to touch her.

"A position overseas. Three months. Immediate start."

Her lips parted.

Her smile vanished.

And still, she didn't speak.

He braced for questions.

Anger. Negotiation. Pleading.

Instead, she nodded once.

Then stood.

Her voice was calm. "Then go."

Leon blinked. "That's it?"

Aria turned to face him, barefoot in a silk cami and soft pants, looking impossibly strong despite the tremble in her throat.

"I'm not going to beg you to stay. That's not who I am."

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to." Her voice cracked just slightly. "You've been pulling away all day."

He stood too. "I was trying to think. This is—"

"Your legacy. I know."

"Aria—"

"It's okay, Leon," she said quietly. "You never promised me forever. You promised honesty. And I promised myself that I wouldn't fall for someone who didn't choose me."

That silenced him.

Because she was right.

She had fallen.

And so had he.

But only one of them was brave enough to say it out loud.

"I don't want to leave you," he said at last.

"But you will."

"I want both."

"You can't have both."

Leon crossed the room, voice raw now. "Why not?"

"Because I won't be here when you get back."

Her words struck like a slap.

Not cruel.

Just honest.

And devastating.

She walked past him.

Stopped at the doorway.

"I didn't fall in love with your power, Leon. I fell for the way you look at me when no one's watching. The man who makes coffee in the morning. Who listens when I cry. Who kissed me like he meant it."

"I did mean it—"

"Then prove it."

He stared at her.

And in her eyes, he didn't see an ultimatum.

He saw a mirror.

Of everything he was afraid to lose.

After she was gone, Leon stood in the center of the penthouse, her scent still lingering in the room, the wineglass half-full on the table.

He picked up her book.

Held it.

Flipped through the pages.

A note fell out.

In her handwriting:

"If you're going to build an empire, make sure love isn't the first thing you bury under it."

That night, Leon didn't sleep.

Didn't call Dahl.

Didn't book the jet.

He just sat in the library, where she'd once knelt in front of him, and whispered the truth into the silence.

"I love you."