Love Me Harder +18

11

LEOANDRO'S POV

The moment I married Esmeralda, I lost whatever little control I still had over myself.

People thought I was cold.

Cruel.

Untouchable.

Maybe I was.

But none of them knew what it took to stand in front of a woman you wanted with every dark piece of your soul and pretend you felt nothing.

Especially when she looked at you like that.

Like you were still the boy she once loved instead of the monster I had become.

The wedding had been chaos wrapped in gold and lies.

Her father desperate.

Her sisters disgraced.

Their family hanging by a thread.

And me?

I had stepped into the fire willingly.

I could still remember the moment she walked down the aisle toward me. White silk clinging to her trembling body, eyes red from crying, lips pressed together like she was fighting not to break apart in front of everyone.

She hated me.

No.

That would've been easier.

Esmeralda looked heartbroken.

And that nearly destroyed me.

Because I knew.

I knew exactly why she looked at me that way.

I had spent years pushing her away.

Years pretending not to notice the way her eyes followed me around rooms.

The way her voice softened when she spoke to me.

The way she smiled whenever I came around her family estate.

I noticed all of it.

Every single thing.

And God help me, I loved every second of it.

But loving someone in my world was dangerous.

Loving someone tied to me was fatal.

So I became cruel instead.

Cold looks.

Short replies.

Distance.

When her sister Bethany had been arranged to marry me, I agreed because it was safer. Cleaner. Easier.

At least that's what I told myself.

But the day I saw Esmeralda overhear the engagement announcement…

Christ.

The pain in her eyes had followed me for months.

She'd smiled politely while dying inside.

And I had stood there pretending not to care.

Because if I let myself care—

I would've ruined us both.

Now she was my wife.

Not Bethany.

Her.

The one woman I could never survive loving.

The mansion felt different with her inside it.

Alive.

Too alive.

Even when I wasn't there, I felt her presence everywhere.

The scent of vanilla and jasmine lingering through hallways.

Her soft footsteps.

The faint sound of her voice speaking to the staff.

It unsettled me.

A man like me couldn't afford softness.

Couldn't afford attachment.

So after the wedding, I stayed away.

The first night, I buried myself in work until sunrise.

The second night…

I came home.

I don't know what pulled me there.

Maybe weakness.

Maybe obsession.

Maybe the simple need to see her with my own eyes.

The mansion was silent when I entered. My guards nodded as I walked through the halls, removing my gloves slowly, exhaustion weighing heavily on my shoulders.

I stopped outside her room.

My hand hovered over the door for several seconds before I pushed it open quietly.

Moonlight spilled through the curtains.

And there she was.

Sleeping.

Curled slightly beneath the blankets like she was trying to make herself smaller.

Safer.

Her dark curls spread across the pillow.

One hand tucked beneath her cheek.

There were faint traces of dried tears on her face.

Something vicious twisted inside my chest.

I stepped closer before I could stop myself.

Her breathing was soft.

Peaceful.

She looked younger asleep.

Fragile.

Mine.

The thought hit me so hard I nearly stepped back.

I crouched beside the bed slowly, studying her face like a starving man.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, lips parting softly.

“Leo…”

My name.

Even asleep she whispered my name.

I shut my eyes briefly.

Fuck.

I reached out before I could stop myself, brushing a strand of hair away from her face carefully. My fingers barely touched her skin, but it was enough to burn.

She leaned unconsciously into my touch.

That nearly broke me.

Because she trusted me.

After everything, she still trusted me.

And I didn't deserve it.

Not even a little.

I stood abruptly and walked out before I did something reckless like climb into that bed beside her.

An hour later I was at Ezekiel Black’s penthouse downtown.

My best friend took one look at me pouring whiskey at two in the morning and laughed darkly.

“You look miserable.”

I ignored him.

Ezekiel leaned against the kitchen counter. “Marriage not going well already?”

I drank slowly. “I haven't touched her.”

His brow lifted.

“That serious?”

I stared at the amber liquid in my glass. “You ever want something so badly you know it'll destroy you?”

Ezekiel went silent after that.

Because he understood.

Men like us always understood destruction.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

I stayed away from the mansion more often than not.

I buried myself in meetings, shipments, negotiations, bloodshed.

Anything to keep my mind off her.

But every night I thought about her sleeping alone in that massive house.

Every damn night.

Then Adrian Knight walked into my office one afternoon.

My capo rarely looked uncertain.

That day he did.

I glanced up from the documents on my desk. “What?”

Adrian hesitated.

Then—

“She left.”