The Contract Bride of Westwood

Melanie's POV

The ride home was quiet. Unsettlingly quiet.

Melanie kept her gaze fixed on the blurred city lights flashing past the tinted window, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her dress. Her heels were off, tucked beside her on the seat, and her legs ached from standing so long. Her shoulders were tense, her throat dry.

Too much had happened in one night.

Aaron's smug threats. The stranger who had whispered that eerie, cryptic comment. And Leo—Leo had been calm on the outside, composed like always, but she could feel it. The way his jaw tightened. The heaviness in his silence. Something inside him was stirred. Shaken.

She felt watched. Not just by the crowd earlier, but by something unseen. Something lingering beneath the surface.

"You're awfully quiet," Leo finally said beside her, voice low, his eyes still facing the road ahead.

Melanie blinked, then gave a small shrug. "Just tired."

He didn't press. Just nodded once.

A pause.

"You handled yourself well tonight," he added after a beat.

She glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You mean when I told Aaron off?"

Leo gave a faint smirk, eyes flickering toward her. "Exactly that."

Melanie's lips curved slightly, but the weight in her chest didn't lift. Not fully. Something about that whole night had unsettled her. And it wasn't just Aaron.

They arrived at Westwood Manor soon after. The estate stood like a sleeping beast under the night sky—quiet, cold, and grand. Most of the lights were off, the staff long since retired. The only illumination came from the soft glow of the chandelier above the staircase and a few dim sconces lining the hallway.

Leo stepped out first, then circled around to open her door. His hand brushed the small of her back as he guided her inside. Warm. Protective. Comforting.

She headed for the stairs, eager to escape to their room, but his voice stopped her mid-step.

"Wait."

Melanie turned.

Leo had already removed his jacket, draping it neatly over the arm of the couch. He loosened his tie with a tired sigh, then undid the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing a glimpse of his collarbone.

"Sit for a second," he said, motioning to the couch.

She hesitated, then walked back down the steps and settled beside him. The cushion dipped slightly beneath his weight as he joined her.

He studied her profile for a moment. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Melanie's heart skipped. "Depends on what it is."

"Your last relationship."

Her fingers locked together tightly in her lap. Her stomach gave a small twist.

"We were supposed to get married," she said quietly. "A big wedding. Everything was planned."

Leo said nothing, just listened.

"He left me a few days before the wedding," she continued, voice hollow. "No warning. No explanation. At first, I thought it was stress. Cold feet. Then I found out... he left because of my sister. They're together now."

Leo's jaw flexed, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She shook her head. "Don't be. You weren't there."

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, just... heavy. Real.

The phone on the side table buzzed, breaking the moment. Leo leaned over and picked it up, his expression unreadable.

"Mother," he muttered, answering the call. "Yes... we just got back."

Melanie made a move to stand, but he lightly touched her wrist, urging her to stay seated.

"No, nothing happened... yes, she handled herself," Leo said. His tone was even, but there was a trace of pride in his voice.

Melanie raised a brow in amusement, listening quietly.

Then Leo said, "Shopping? Tomorrow? Just you and her?"

Melanie stiffened.

"Alright. I'll let her know."

He ended the call and turned to her. "That was my mother. She wants to take you shopping tomorrow."

Melanie blinked. "Shopping?"

Leo nodded. "Apparently, the gala inspired her."

She let out a small, dry laugh. "I don't need anything."

Leo pulled out his wallet and retrieved a sleek black card. He placed it gently in her palm.

"Take this. Just in case."

Her eyes widened. "Leonard, I can't—"

"It's not a suggestion," he said, gaze steady. "Just use it if you need to."

She stared at the card, unsure how to respond. Something about it felt too intimate, too real. But eventually, she nodded.

Leo stood. "We both need rest. Come on."

They ascended the stairs side by side, steps light against the plush carpet. The chandelier above bathed the hallway in a soft golden glow. Everything was still.

Their room was dim when they entered, the curtains drawn, moonlight slipping through the cracks. The scent of cologne and fresh linens hung in the air.

Melanie stepped into the bathroom to change. When she emerged, she wore a soft cotton nightshirt. Her makeup had been wiped away, revealing the softness in her eyes, the tired curve of her mouth.

Leo had changed too—into a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He looked... different. More human. Less untouchable.

They climbed into bed wordlessly. Melanie turned to face the wall, trying to calm her spinning thoughts. But sleep was elusive.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

And then—warmth.

A solid arm curled around her waist. A chest pressed gently to her back. She stiffened.

Leonard.

His breath was slow. Steady. Asleep.

She tried to shift, unsure, but then—

"Don't go," he murmured, barely audible.

Melanie froze.

"Please... stay," he whispered again, voice hoarse with sleep.

Her heart ached. The sound of his voice—so broken, so unguarded—it wasn't the ruthless billionaire she'd married. It was a man who had been left behind. A man still searching for something... or someone.

She didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Just lay there, listening to the rhythm of his breathing, her own emotions tangled somewhere between confusion and something else. Something softer.

He held her like she mattered.

Like she wasn't just a contract.

And though she knew he might be dreaming of someone else—someone from his past—she let him hold her anyway.

Even if just for tonight.