Claiming Leila

Chapter 4

Adrian Kincaid hated waiting.

He stood by the window in his office, looking down at the busy streets below. Cars filled the roads. People hurried from one place to another.

The city never stopped moving.

Neither did he.

Nathan walked into the office and placed a folder on the desk.

"The meeting with the photographer is confirmed."

"Good."

Nathan studied him for a moment.

"You seem unusually interested in this project."

Adrian glanced at him.

"I'm interested in the foundation event."

"Of course you are."

The answer carried just enough doubt to be annoying.

Adrian opened the folder.

Leila Okoye.

Photographer.

Strong reviews.

Excellent work.

He looked at her photo.

She stood with a camera in her hand, her expression calm and confident. She looked like someone who refused to be pushed around.

His eyes stayed on the picture longer than they should have.

Nathan noticed.

"She's not impressed by money."

Adrian closed the folder.

"That could be useful."

Nathan laughed softly.

"That sounds like a challenge."

Adrian ignored him.

A few hours later, Leila walked through downtown Manhattan with a coffee in one hand and her camera bag over her shoulder.

Her phone buzzed.

Simi.

Simi:

Did Mr. Billionaire call?

Leila smiled.

Leila:

Yes.

The reply came instantly.

Simi:

And???

Leila:

He wants a meeting.

Simi:

That's definitely not just business.

Leila rolled her eyes and put the phone away.

The next afternoon, she arrived at the building where the meeting would take place.

The place screamed money.

Polished floors.

Dark wood walls.

Quiet music.

Everything looked expensive.

For a second, she considered turning around.

Instead, she followed the hostess to a table by the window.

Adrian was already there.

He stood when he saw her.

Dark suit.

Perfect posture.

Calm expression.

Everything about him looked controlled.

"Miss Okoye."

"Mr. Kincaid."

He pulled out a chair for her.

Leila noticed but didn't comment.

She sat down.

For a moment, neither spoke.

"You read the proposal?" Adrian asked.

"Yes."

"And?"

"The pay is good."

His eyebrow lifted.

"That's not a full answer."

"It's the important part."

A small smile touched his face.

Barely.

"You don't make things easy."

"I never promised I would."

That seemed to amuse him.

"Fair enough."

The waitress arrived and took their orders.

Coffee for Adrian.

Water for Leila.

When she left, Adrian slid a folder across the table.

Leila opened it.

Everything was there.

Dates.

Responsibilities.

Payment.

Nothing looked hidden.

She read every page carefully.

Finally, she looked up.

"You're serious about this."

"I usually am."

"And if I say no?"

Adrian didn't hesitate.

"Then you say no."

Leila blinked.

She hadn't expected that answer.

He noticed.

"I'm offering you a job, not forcing you into one."

"Lots of people say that."

"And lots of people lie."

The honesty surprised her.

She closed the folder.

"I don't know what kind of man you are yet."

Adrian met her gaze.

"That's fair."

For a second, neither looked away.

The silence felt strange.

Not uncomfortable.

Just different.

Then Adrian asked a question.

"Why photography?"

Leila folded her hands.

"Because photographs tell the truth."

"Do they?"

"Most of the time."

Adrian looked thoughtful.

"And if the truth hurts?"

"Then it hurts."

A faint smile touched his face.

"You make everything sound simple."

"It usually is."

"No. People just make it complicated."

Leila didn't answer.

Because part of her agreed.

Outside the window, traffic moved through the city.

Inside, the conversation felt slower.

More personal.

Adrian took a sip of coffee.

"I want you to photograph the private opening next Friday."

Leila nodded.

"That was quick."

"I don't waste time."

"I noticed."

This time she actually smiled.

Just a little.

And to her surprise, Adrian smiled back.

It changed his whole face.

For a second, he looked younger.

Less guarded.

The moment passed quickly.

Leila looked back at the proposal.

The opportunity was too good to ignore.

The money alone would help.

The connections would help even more.

And despite her doubts, she trusted her instincts.

If something felt wrong later, she could leave.

Finally, she closed the folder.

"I'll do it."

Adrian's expression stayed calm.

But she saw relief in his eyes.

"Good."

She held up one finger.

"On my terms."

His gaze stayed steady.

"I expected nothing less."

Leila narrowed her eyes.

"Are you always this smooth?"

"No."

"That sounded like a lie."

"It's not."

She laughed quietly.

The sound surprised both of them.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Adrian pointed toward her notebook.

"I'd like a direct way to contact you."

Leila gave him a look.

"You already have my number."

"I wasn't sure you'd answer."

"And now?"

"Now I want a better option."

She shook her head.

"You don't give up easily."

"No."

The single word felt heavier than it should have.

Leila pulled out a pen.

She wrote her email address on the back page of the proposal.

Then she slid it across the table.

"There."

Adrian took the paper.

His fingers brushed hers for a brief second.

The touch was accidental.

Still, she noticed it.

"So suspicious," he said.

"You've earned that."

"I haven't done anything."

"Yet."

That made him laugh.

A real laugh.

Short but genuine.

Leila hated that she liked the sound.

After a while, they stood.

The meeting was over.

At least officially.

"I'll walk you out," Adrian said.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

For some reason, that answer made her smile again.

They walked toward the elevator together.

Neither spoke much.

The silence felt easier now.

When they reached the lobby, Leila adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

"See you next Friday."

Adrian nodded.

"See you then."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

Then Leila turned and headed toward the doors.

She could feel his eyes following her.

Outside, the city was loud and bright.

Cars honked.

People rushed by.

Life continued as normal.

But as she walked away, one thought stayed in her mind.

Adrian Kincaid was trouble.

Not loud trouble.

Not obvious trouble.

The dangerous kind.

The kind that arrived slowly.

The kind you noticed only after it was already too late.

And the worst part?

She was already thinking about him far more than she should.