The Billionaire's Kiss

Leaked

Manhattan—Cruz Tower, Private Floor

8:23 A.M. – The Morning After the Breach

It was too quiet in the room.

Arielle stood in Xander's glass-walled office, feet bare, still wearing his oversized dress shirt from the previous night. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes alert. The air was filled with roasted espresso and tension. The city raged below them—horns, chaos, life—but here, there was only a storm brewing behind her ribs.

Xander sat there and glared at the screen in front of him. No words. Just fury. Pure, molten, wordless fury.

The video was up on five different celebrity gossip sites already. One was already saying it had gotten a million hits. The video wasn't graphic enough for porn, but it didn't have to be. It was just enough to destroy them. To make headlines.

Xander Cruz and Arielle Santos. Caught. Claimed. F*cked.

The press dubbed it "The Power Play s*x Tape."

He hunched forward, fingers interlaced, and spoke softly, "This wasn't about embarrassing you, Arielle. This was about embarrassing me."

Arielle folded her arms, speaking softly. "Then why do I feel as though I'm the one hemorrhaging on the street?"

"You're collateral," he told her bluntly. "You're what they used to reaching me."

"And who the devil is 'they'?"

He gazed at her now. Straight on. No filter. No pretense.

"I don't have anything concrete yet. But Brent's involved. I can sense it."

Arielle's expression remained immobile. But her voice broke the silence.

"Then let me have my chance to destroy him. Because if you think that I'm going to sit back and let him ruin my reputation, you don't know the woman."

"I recognize the woman you are," Xander snarled. "That's why I'm not keeping you under wraps. I'm plastering you on every front page in the nation."

She didn't think she'd ever find herself walking into a press conference.

Not arm-in-arm with Xander. Not with cameras yelling their names. Not with perfectly airbrushed makeup on a face that had not slept. But there they were two sharks in suits of armor.

Xander went first with the mic. Composed. Unfeeling. His voice was mastered.

"Arielle Santos is not a pawn. She is not a victim. And if anyone believes that releasing videos from our personal life will scare us, I think they should go ask the last guy who tried to cross me how that ended up."

He didn't flinch. He didn't grin.

Arielle moved forward.

She said after the flashes faded a bit. "I was betrayed once, and I let that destroy me. I won't do it again. If the world wants to discuss what I do behind closed doors, fine, but they're going to have to accept that I'm still standing, and I'm not going anywhere."

The applause was subdued, bewildered but it swelled. Shocked admiration. Supportive nervousness.

But the moment the conference ended, and the doors closed, the calm shattered.

They didn’t speak at first. Not until the walls were between them again.

Arielle walked to the bar, pouring herself a double bourbon.

“You’re handling this well,” she said tightly.

He looked at her from the other side of the room. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not weak.”

"I didn't say you were," he answered. "But you are mine, and that means I get to be angry when someone has the nerve to touch what's mine."

"You can't own a person."

He moved towards her slowly.

"No," he said, his fingers ruffling her hair, "but I can keep them safe like they are."

She resented how his touch soothed her. Resented how one glance could extract the anger from her and replace it with flame.

And perhaps that's why she took him by the collar and kissed him hard, rough, a punishment and a plea.

"You want me to forget what happened?" she whispered between kisses. "Make me."

He didn't ask again.

They did not strip off slowly. Buttons ripped, zippers whirred, clothes landed on the floor like shed armor. He bent her over the bar and shoved her hard, his hand fisted in her hair, her face pressed to the cold granite, her moans muffled against her arm.

Later, he lifted her to the counter and ate her until her body shook, legs wrapped around his head, her screams echoing through the suite.

It was raw. Healing. Possessive.

And when he came inside her the second time, he bit down on her shoulder like a promise.

Mia.

Arielle blinked when she saw her. The gorgeous, venom-laced bridesmaid is now looking stripped of confidence.

"I need to talk to you," Mia said, urgency in her voice.

Arielle didn't budge. "Why should I let you say a single word to me after what you did?"

"Because Brent's worse than you think," Mia whispered. "And he's not just watching you."

Xander materialized behind Arielle, shirtless, eyes angling.

Mia didn't bat an eye. "He taped us too," she said. In his apartment. Months ago. Without my permission."

Arielle's gut churned. "You're lying."

"I wish I were."

Mia removed a USB drive and let it fall on the counter. "He was collecting women, documenting them. He's obsessed, and not with you, but with claiming you."

Arielle's eyes fixed on the USB, her heart pounding.

"If what you're telling me is true…" she started.

"It is," Mia interrupted. "And if we don't intervene now, you won't just be in headlines."

Xander's words dripped with ice.

"You'll be buried in them."

Arielle left her hand hovering over the USB.

The heaviness of it was like a trigger. The sound of the click before the firing.

So she looked at Mia this wasn't the smug, venom-filled siren that had nearly sabotaged her wedding. This one was cracked. Pale. Haunted.

And yet, part of her still didn't trust it.

"Why now?" Arielle asked, her tone low, protective. "Why come forward now?

Mia swallowed. "Because I watched the tape of you and Xander. and I knew he was not finished. He's escalating. Brent has monitoring installed in more than one place. His condo. Your apartment. Mine." Her voice broke. "He tapes everything."

Xander took a step closer, serene but deadly. "So what do you want? Immunity? A trade?

Mia shook her head. "I need an exit." I wanted to burn him before he burns all of us. And I know how he thinks, how he conceals what he gathers."

Arielle finally grasped the USB, her hands shaking even though she clenched her jaw tightly. "If we see this," she said softly, "we don't unsee it."

"I can't sleep anyway," Mia whispered. "What's one more nightmare?"

Fifteen Minutes Later—Private Screening Room in Cruz Tower

The room was chilly. Xander had flipped the lights out. The screen came on.

What came next didn't require sound. It screamed nonetheless.

Clips. Scores. Various women. Various positions. All surreptitious. Some in Brent's apartment. Some elsewhere. None of them are aware.

Arielle's face came on screen next. Sleeping. Undressed. Exposed.

Mia gasped next to her. Xander's fists tightened on his thighs.

The camera crept slowly along Arielle's naked legs. It stopped. Zoomed.

And then Arielle's whisper, quiet in the recording: "Xander…"

It cut to black.

Timestamp? Two nights ago.

"He broke into the penthouse," Arielle whispered.

"Impossible," Xander grunted. "There's twenty-four-hour armed security."

Mia let out a breath. "He bribed your staff."

Xander moved to his feet. Cold rage emanated off him in waves.

"I want every man on that shift fired. I want cameras pulled. Anyone who so much as looked away is finished."

He swung around to Mia. "And you're remaining in this building. Monitored. Guarded. Until this is accomplished."

Mia nodded. "I don't care. Kill it. Kill him."

Arielle didn't say a word. She just stood by the window, arms crossed, robe barely closed.

"You're quiet," Xander said, moving behind her.

"I feel vulnerable," she said softly. "As if I was never alone during any of those moments, as if everything, even my suffering, was for him."

Xander pulled her into his arms from behind. "You were never his. Not a single breath of you."

She looked up at him from the circle of his arms. "I want to ruin him."

"Then we will ruin him together."