His Property: A Billionaire Possession Romance

"You want me to what?"

Aria blinked, the paper trembling slightly in her hand.

Leon didn't look up from his tablet. "Attend a photoshoot."

"Together?"

He finally met her eyes, calm and cool as ever. "It's part of the Castellan Industries human interest feature. A spread in Prestige Magazine. They requested we appear... comfortable with each other."

She narrowed her eyes. "Comfortable like 'smile for the camera'? Or comfortable like 'touch me like you own me'?"

Leon tilted his head slightly. "Both, ideally."

Aria slammed the paper onto the counter. "I'm not a prop."

"You're my public companion, Aria. The contract didn't specify you'd remain invisible."

"Oh, so now you need me to play trophy girlfriend for a photo op?"

His gaze sharpened. "I don't need you to play anything. Just stand beside me and smile."

She stared at him, jaw tight. He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. And somehow, that made her even angrier.

Still, when the car came the next morning, she was in it.

The studio was high-ceilinged and glossy, walls lined with lighting rigs and racks of designer clothing. The photographer was an eccentric Frenchman named Marcellus who clapped his hands constantly and called everyone "dahling."

Aria was immediately ushered into wardrobe, hair teased and curled, makeup painted with surgical precision. The dress was clingy, low-cut, and backless — black again, of course. Leon's favorite shade. His control even extended to aesthetics.

When she emerged from the dressing room, Leon was already there in a crisp charcoal suit, his tie undone and shirt sleeves rolled up to the forearms. Casual but devastating. Like the devil on a coffee break.

His eyes moved over her body slowly — one sweeping, silent stroke that started at her bare shoulders and ended at the curve of her heels.

No words. Just heat.

And that said more than a compliment ever could.

"Perfect," Marcellus declared, clapping. "Now, Leon, stand behind her, hands on her waist — no, no, closer, let it simmer."

Leon moved behind Aria. His hands slid lightly to her waist — not possessive. Just resting. Barely.

But her skin lit up under his touch like he'd branded her.

"Good. Now lean in, whisper in her ear. Pretend you're about to kiss."

Aria froze.

Leon didn't.

He bent low, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Relax."

"I am relaxed," she hissed back, too aware of how close his mouth was to her neck.

His breath was warm against her skin. His hands tightened slightly on her waist.

Marcellus shouted something in the background, but it was drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears.

"Look at each other," the photographer directed. "Yes, just like that! Closer!"

Leon turned her toward him.

His face was inches from hers.

And in that moment, the world shrank.

It was no longer a shoot. No studio. No contract.

Just him. And her. And the unbearable silence stretching between them.

He stared at her lips.

Her breath caught.

She saw the flicker in his eyes — that warning, that hesitation. Like he was about to do something reckless.

Then his hand came up.

Fingers brushed her jaw.

His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth.

And slowly, agonizingly, he leaned in.

Her heart stopped.

Their mouths hovered.

Barely touching.

She tilted forward, involuntarily, just enough to—

He pulled away.

Just like that.

No kiss.

No contact.

Only air and silence and the echo of a moment that almost happened.

Aria blinked, throat tight.

Leon turned to the photographer. "We have enough."

Marcellus blinked. "But the final set—"

Leon's voice was quiet, but final. "That's enough."

Back in the car, Aria sat stiffly beside him.

Neither spoke.

Not on the way home. Not in the elevator. Not as the penthouse door slid shut behind them.

But when she turned to leave, his voice stopped her cold.

"I wanted to."

She froze.

Slowly, she turned. "What?"

Leon's eyes met hers, shadowed and unreadable.

"I wanted to kiss you," he said, each word heavy, deliberate. "I still want to. But if I do, there's no going back."

Her chest ached with something wild. "Then why didn't you?"

He looked at her like she was the fire and the flood all at once.

"Because I don't want to want you like this."

Silence crashed between them.

And in that silence, something shifted.

The rules were no longer enough.

Later that night, Aria lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

She could still feel his thumb on her jaw.

Still feel the kiss that didn't happen like it had burned a mark on her lips.

He wanted her.

She knew that now.

But what terrified her more…

Was how much she wanted him back.