Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Whispers Beneath the Gold
The man beside her chuckled darkly. “Still got that effect on him, huh?”
“Leo—”
And Melanie… she was not her.
He turned to Melanie, eyes sharp. “Enjoy the evening, Mrs. Westwood. You’ll find out soon enough what being tied to a man like him really means.”
“I’m always hard to get,” he muttered without missing a beat.
Aaron’s fingers froze in the air.
Across the ballroom, in the shadows near one of the ornate archways, a figure stood watching.
Melanie exhaled and turned to sip her drink. It felt like something was building—something just beneath the surface. She didn’t know what it was, but it made the hairs on her neck stand up.
“Smile a little,” he said in a low voice as they approached the red carpet. “But not too much. You don’t want them thinking you’re desperate to be here.”
His jaw moved slightly. “Nothing. I just thought—”
He reached for Melanie’s hand, but Leo shifted slightly. Just enough.
The woman didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on Leonard.
That caught her attention.
She didn’t answer.
She was dressed in a crimson gown that dipped dangerously low at the back. Her lips were painted scarlet, and a velvet mask covered the upper half of her face. She didn’t mingle. Didn’t drink. She simply watched.
He offered her a glass of champagne, which she accepted quietly.
When he saw her.
The woman he’d seen across the ballroom—the red dress, the hair, the presence—it had felt like deja vu in the cruelest form.
“Leo—”
And for one agonizing second—he froze.
—
She didn’t argue.
Leo paused. “Just… stay close to me tonight. Don’t talk to anyone alone.”
No—Leo Westwood didn’t do fear.
She was real. Present. Alive.
Leo turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that something you want to do?”
Buried.
And then he melted back into the crowd like smoke.
“She shouldn’t be here,” a deep voice said behind him.
His past.
Her nerves were a quiet storm in her chest, but Leo? He looked calm. Controlled. Dangerous in a tailored black tux that matched his quiet power.
Like he’d seen a ghost.
He had just looked up.
“Come,” he said.
“Just do it,” he said, voice low.
***
“Leonard,” he said smoothly. “You brought her. How… domestic of you.”
Melanie noticed his jaw tightening as they passed a small group of older businessmen. She could feel the tension in his body as clearly as if it were her own.
Melanie’s breath caught.
Leo stood alone in the hallway, near the back exit.
They hadn’t.
Aaron.
Melanie’s eyes scanned the ballroom. “So… when do we get to dance?”
“We’re not most couples.”
“Leo?”
The warning was clear.
She kept her chin up and followed his lead as they stepped into the ballroom.
It wasn’t her.
“You okay?” she asked in a whisper.
He was used to this. Melanie was not.
Aaron gave a low chuckle. “Noted.”
Leo spun around—
“You’re not drinking?” she asked, noticing his untouched glass.
But no. She was gone.
“Fine,” he said. But his eyes were moving. Watching. Searching.
Aaron smiled, unbothered. “Just wanted to meet your beautiful bride again.”
The music was louder inside, the lights softer. People milled about in gowns and tuxedos that screamed old money. Servers in white gloves passed around trays of champagne. But Melanie felt Leo’s energy change the moment they entered. His hand didn’t leave her back.
She sat down, unsure, watching him weave through the crowd. He disappeared into the hallway beyond the ballroom.
The cameras flashed wildly. Some reporters tried to call out questions—”Mr. Westwood! Who’s the lucky lady?”—but none of them got close. Security was tight, and Leo barely paused. Just one glance toward the cameras and a sharp nod.
Leo didn’t answer immediately. His jaw was tight.
Instead, she took a slow sip from her glass and turned away, her heels echoing faintly against the marble as she disappeared deeper into the gala.
Leo’s expression didn’t change. “Touch her, and I’ll bury you under this building.”
But the hallway was empty.
But he did silence. And right now, he was wearing it like armor.
She blinked. “I… I just thought that’s what couples do at galas.”
Aaron lowered his hand and gave a lazy smile. “You’re awfully possessive. Afraid she’ll run off if someone blinks at her too long?”
Leo didn’t blink. “Leave.”
He was staring. His eyes sharp. Cold.
“What is it?” she asked.
“No,” she said, offering him a small, genuine smile. “We’re not.”
He shook his head, cutting himself off.
Not even when he led her through the crowd like a soldier maneuvering a battlefield.
It couldn’t be her.
But damn it, the moment he saw that silhouette—he’d felt like he was seventeen again, heart broken and rage rotting his insides.
They moved toward one of the reserved tables, and Melanie felt his hand return to the small of her back like it was instinct. Protective. Possessive. But there was a flicker in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Few minutes later, he was about to turn back into the ballroom—
“Stay here,” he said to her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
And he didn’t smile.
The ballroom shimmered with gold and silver, every inch of it speaking luxury, elegance, and centuries of old money. Crystal chandeliers hung like stars above polished floors, and music—soft, graceful—echoed off the high ceilings.
Something flickered in his expression. But before he could say anything more, a server leaned down and whispered something in his ear.
She clutched the clutch in her hand tightly, the beading on her champagne gown glinting under the light as she stepped out of the car beside Leonard. His hand found the small of her back, guiding her like they’d done this a hundred times.
“Let the game begin,” the man muttered to himself.
She gave a dry laugh. “Is that what you’re doing? Playing hard to get with the media?”
And then—
“Did you find what you were looking for?” a man beside her asked. He wore a dark suit, no tie, face partially hidden in shadow.
“Stay by my side tonight,” he said finally, voice low. “Don’t wander off. Not even for a minute.”
Fear?
He didn’t answer.
She turned to say something—thank you, maybe—but was interrupted by a shadow looming in front of them.
Leo stood immediately.
Melanie had never seen anything like it.
“Is there someone here you didn’t expect?” she asked again.
He was breathing hard.
He was serious.
Melanie turned to Leo, heart pounding. “Is he always like that?”
Melanie hadn’t noticed at first. But when Leo’s grip on her arm suddenly tightened, she turned to him.
“Please.”
“I don’t drink at these things.”
Melanie followed his gaze, but saw nothing. Just glittering gowns, laughing elites, a sea of strangers.
