WHERE MORNING FINDS THEM.
588 Words
Where Morning Finds Them
Leona woke to warmth.
Not sunlight.
Him.
Elias Moretti lay half-buried in her sheets, one arm slung across her waist, his breath brushing the back of her neck in soft, steady rhythm. His bare chest pressed against her back like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.
For one foolish, still half-asleep moment… she let herself believe he did.
Then the weight of everything they had done came crashing back.
She gently peeled his arm off and slipped out of bed.
But the second her foot touched the floor—
“You always run before I wake up?”
His voice was rough with sleep and laced with a smile.
Leona froze.
Then looked over her shoulder.
He was propped on one elbow now, hair tousled, face unguarded in the morning light.
He looked… young.
Too young.
“Habit,” she said softly, reaching for her robe.
“Break it.”
He got up, crossed the room shirtless, and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. His touch was so natural, so intimate, it made her stomach clench.
“You’re going to make this harder than it needs to be,” she whispered.
“I’m not the one hiding.”
“And I’m not the one who could lose everything with one headline,” she snapped, turning to face him.
Elias didn’t flinch. “Neither of us are playing it safe anymore. You kissed me back, Leona. You took me to your bed. You didn’t push me away.”
“And now what?” she asked, voice cracking. “Do we pretend this is normal? That people won’t talk? That the board won’t try to bury me alive and paint you as reckless and unfit to lead?”
“I don’t give a damn what they say.”
“But I do!”
He took a breath, stepped back. The room suddenly felt colder.
“I know you’re scared,” he said. “But I won’t let them hurt you. I’ll handle it.”
“Like you handled Vivian Danvers? You’re poking sharks, Elias. Sharks with teeth.”
He stared at her a long moment. Then nodded.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “Then tell me this was a mistake. Tell me you regret it. That you didn’t feel anything last night.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
He stepped forward again, brushing his fingers against her jaw, eyes burning.
“That’s what I thought.”
They didn’t talk about it again—not that morning.
He left with a kiss to her forehead, a whisper of “We’re not done”, and a look that lingered long after the door shut.
Back at the office, Leona walked through the halls with her usual grace—but something had changed. She could feel it in her spine.
Amira eyed her from across the floor.
Someone else’s smirk lasted a little too long.
Rumors were already spreading.
And when Elias walked past her on the way to the executive suite—no touch, no glance, just a flicker of heat in his eyes—
She knew the whispers were about to become a storm.
Later that evening, she found an envelope in her office. No name. No logo.
Inside, one grainy photo.
Her.
Him.
Last night. On the balcony at the gala.
Too close. Too familiar.
A threat.
And written on the back, in bold black ink:
> “You should’ve stayed gone.”
- Writer
