Taming the billionaire's innocent

chapter 4

The next morning, Seraphina awoke to a buzz of notifications.

Her phone lit up with a flurry of alerts, text messages, gossip blog headlines, and one very pointed call from her stepmother, Everly.

But it was the top headline that made her sit upright in bed:

"Billionaire Leo Moretti Spotted Reuniting with Ex, Supermodel Nadia Volkov, at the Edison Club"

Her stomach twisted. A photo followedLeo standing beside a tall, impossibly beautiful brunette in a blood-red dress, her hand brushing his chest as he leaned in to whisper something.

The caption read: Old flames reignite? Seraphina’s heart sank.

No. He said he’d explain. He said it was nothing.

But the seed had been planted.

At the same time, Leo stood in his kitchen, staring at the very same headline on his phone.

"s**t," he muttered.

He didn’t have to turn around to know Eliza had walked in.

"They ran with it," she said plainly.

"I didn’t touch her."

"Doesn’t matter. You know how it works. You’re Leo Moretti. If you breathe near a woman, she’s suddenly your mistress."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I need to talk to Sera."

"Good idea," Eliza said, then added, "She’ll need more than a denial, Leo. She needs the truth."

He sighed. "Call Miles. I need the car."

Seraphina was at her father’s Midtown office when Leo called.

She didn’t answer.

Not the first time. Not the second. And definitely not the third.

When he showed up outside, security buzzed her.

"There’s a Mr. Moretti here to see you. Should we send him away?"

She hesitated.

Then: "Let him in."

She waited in her father's executive lounge, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The last time she’d seen Leo, he’d held her like she meant something. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

He stepped inside, his suit crisp, his hair disheveled like he hadn’t slept much. His eyes met hers instantly.

"Sera…"

"You said you'd tell me about her."

He stopped. "I was going to."

"But you didn’t. You let me wake up to this."

She shoved her phone into his hand, the headline staring back at him.

"Nothing happened," he said firmly. "She showed up at the Edison Club, uninvited. I was there for a business meeting with investors. Nadia knew that. She wanted to be seen."

"And were you whispering stock tips in her ear? Or sweet nothings for old time’s sake?"

His jaw clenched. "You’re angry. You have every right to be. But if you think for one second that I want Nadia…"

"I don’t know what to think," Seraphina cut in. "You said this would change things. You said it was real. And then I see this."

"What you see is a game. Nadia’s playing it. And she’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants."

"Which is you?"

"No," he said, moving closer. "Which is me losing."

She blinked.

Leo exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"She was the one I thought I loved, once. Years ago. We were volatile—beautiful on the outside, toxic underneath. I walked away. She didn’t."

Seraphina sat down, finally letting herself breathe.

"So why didn’t you just tell me this yesterday?"

"Because for the first time in years, I didn’t want the past messing with my present."

He crouched in front of her.

"You scare me, Sera. Not because of what I feel for youbut because you make me want to feel again. And I don’t know how to do that without messing it up."

Her heart cracked a little at the honesty in his voice.

"Leo... I don’t want perfect. I just want real."

His shoulders slumped with relief.

"Then you’ll still come tonight?"

"Lesson three?"

"No," he said, smiling. "Lesson three comes after dinner. Tonight, I want to take you on a real date."

She hesitated, then smiled back.

"Then yes. I’ll come."

Later that night, Leo arrived at the Wynn estate in a black-on-black tailored suit and brought her a single white rose.

He took her to a private rooftop restaurant overlooking the city skyline. There was a string quartet, candlelight, and a reserved sign with her name on it.

As they dined, he talked—not about business, not about Nadia—but about himself. His childhood. His regrets. His dreams.

And she shared hers.

By the time dessert came, something between them had shifted.

She leaned forward. "You’re not the man the press thinks you are."

He smiled. "And you’re not as innocent as you think."

She blushed.

"I still want lesson three," she whispered.

He leaned closer. "Then finish your tiramisu."