His Property: A Billionaire Possession Romance

To celebrate every new collection this book receives , I've decided to release two extra chapters the next day 🥳🥳🥳🥳 

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It wasn't intentional.

Not exactly.

Aria hadn't meant to stir anything when she threw on one of Leon's white dress shirts that morning. It was oversized, crisp, and smelled like him. She tied it at the waist, paired it with high-waisted jeans and gold hoops, then slipped on dark sunglasses and called it a look.

She had plans to meet a friend at a café near Castellan HQ.

She just didn't realize her casual detour to drop off coffee would detonate the entire 38th floor.

When she stepped off the elevator, heads turned.

She barely noticed.

Until the receptionist nearly dropped her tablet.

And one of Leon's senior advisors straightened his tie three times before managing to stammer, "Ms. Rousseau. Did Mr. Castellan… expect you?"

She smiled. "He didn't."

She walked down the hall like she owned it.

And maybe, in a way, she did.

Because when she pushed open his office door without knocking, Leon was mid-call, tie loose, jacket off, and shirt sleeves rolled up.

He glanced up.

Froze.

And cursed under his breath.

"Call me back," he told whoever was on the other end.

Then he set the phone down.

Leaned back in his chair.

And looked at her.

Really looked.

She held up two coffees. "Bribery and caffeine."

"You wore that on purpose," he said, voice low.

"No," she said sweetly. "But your name's on the tag, so I thought I should return it personally."

He stood slowly.

Walked around the desk.

His eyes never left her.

"You're trying to kill me."

She handed him the coffee. "No. Just gently destroy your concentration."

Leon took it.

Set it down without taking a sip.

Then caged her in with both arms, palms resting on the desk behind her.

"You're succeeding."

Their kiss was slow.

Smoldering.

Definitely not office-appropriate.

But no one dared knock.

And when she finally pulled away, breathless, she whispered, "You're not as composed as you pretend to be, Castellan."

He smiled against her lips. "Not when you're in my clothes."

Back in the outer office, chaos stirred.

Speculation ran wild.

Was Aria moving in?

Were they engaged?

Was she wearing his shirt?

(Yes.)

Even Dahl — Leon's second-in-command and corporate shark — narrowed his eyes as she passed.

"You're disrupting the food chain," he muttered.

"I'm the apex now," Aria said without missing a beat.

That afternoon, Aria finally met her friend for coffee.

Delilah Monroe — model, influencer, and human polygraph — took one look at her and snorted.

"You're glowing."

"Am not."

"Your skin is smug."

Aria laughed. "He made me eggs this morning."

"Oh my God," Delilah deadpanned. "You're in domestic bliss."

"He wore glasses to read the newspaper."

Delilah gasped. "You're going to marry this man."

Aria went still.

Delilah blinked. "Wait… is that not the plan?"

"I don't know," Aria said softly.

"You're scared."

"I'm in love."

"Same thing."

Later that night, Aria returned to the penthouse.

Leon was barefoot in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, chopping something green.

She leaned against the wall, arms folded. "You cooking or prepping a business merger?"

"Dinner."

"For me?"

"For us."

He looked up, then walked over and pulled her in for a kiss.

When he let go, she murmured, "Do you know what people said today?"

"I can imagine."

"They think I'm the one with power now."

Leon brushed hair back from her face. "You always were."