The Distance Between Us
1148 Words
Chapter 19: The Distance Between Us
The silence in the penthouse was almost unbearable.
Samantha stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the city skyline flicker like a restless sea of lights. Behind her, the echo of the slamming door still lingered in the air, a reminder of Leonard’s sudden departure hours ago.
They had fought—again.
And this time, it wasn’t just tension. It was something deeper. Colder.
Her eyes dropped to the crumpled piece of paper on the marble table—the contract they’d both signed just weeks ago. The rules, the boundaries, the expectations. Every line suddenly felt like a chain wrapped around her neck.
“You knew what this was, Samantha.”
His voice rang in her memory, clipped and devoid of warmth.
“It was never meant to be real.”
But then why did it feel so real now?
Why did his anger hurt more than it should?
She sank into the plush armchair, her chest tight. The contract had started as protection—for both of them. She had her reasons: saving her family, protecting herself from a scandal that could destroy her career. He had his: a convenient solution for the board, keeping his past buried, maintaining control.
But somewhere between the rehearsed smiles and staged kisses… something had shifted.
Samantha wasn’t sure when it had started.
Maybe it was that night on the rooftop when he covered her with his jacket without saying a word. Maybe it was when he held her hand during her panic attack and didn’t let go.
Maybe it was when he kissed her—not for the cameras—but in private, like it meant something.
But none of that mattered now.
Because he had walked away.
And she didn’t know if he’d come back.
⸻
Meanwhile, Leonard Huxley was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
The penthouse’s silence had been suffocating him. Samantha’s defiance had pierced something in him he thought long buried—something too dangerous to acknowledge.
Control. That was always the key.
He controlled the markets, his company, the media, and even his image. But Samantha… she was chaos wrapped in grace. And it infuriated him that he couldn’t keep her in check—not without hurting her.
And he didn’t want to hurt her.
His phone buzzed. A message from Thomas, his assistant.
Thomas: “Board is asking for both of you to attend tomorrow’s charity gala. Media presence confirmed.”
Leonard let out a slow, bitter laugh.
Of course. The perfect couple couldn’t afford to break character now.
He stared at the phone screen, debating if he should even tell her. But in the end, he tapped a reply.
Leonard: “We’ll be there.”
We.
As if they were still a team.
⸻
Samantha didn’t sleep that night.
When the morning sun finally rose, painting soft gold over the glass walls of the penthouse, she was still curled up on the couch. She hadn’t changed, hadn’t eaten. She was emotionally drained—but not broken.
She wouldn’t allow herself to break.
The front door creaked open just past 8 a.m.
Leonard stepped inside, his suit crisp, hair immaculate, like he hadn’t just stormed out of their shared home the night before.
Their eyes met.
Neither said a word at first.
Then he broke the silence.
“You have a fitting for the gala. 11 a.m. My driver will take you.”
Samantha stood, her voice cold. “You could’ve texted that.”
Leonard’s jaw tensed. “I wanted to make sure you were still here.”
That caught her off guard. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “You looked like you wanted to leave last night.”
Her heart squeezed. “And if I did?”
He swallowed. “I wouldn’t stop you. But I’d regret it.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love. Not even close. But it was the most vulnerable thing he had said to her since this whole façade began.
Samantha blinked, surprised. “You have a strange way of showing it.”
“I’m not good at this.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “But I don’t want this to fall apart.”
“Then stop treating me like one of your business deals.”
“I don’t know how to separate the two,” he admitted. “With you, everything’s blurred.”
The honesty hit her like a wave—confusing, unexpected, but oddly comforting.
“Then maybe we start over,” she whispered. “At least for tonight. For the gala.”
His brows furrowed. “Start over?”
She took a deep breath. “We go together. Smile for the cameras. Pretend like we’re the perfect couple… but after that, we talk. Really talk.”
He gave a slow nod. “Okay.”
⸻
That evening, Samantha emerged from the dressing room in a black silk gown that shimmered with every step. Her hair was pulled into a sleek bun, and diamonds dangled delicately from her ears.
Leonard was waiting for her by the car, dressed in a tailored tuxedo, the image of the world’s most eligible billionaire. But his eyes softened the moment he saw her.
“You look…”
“Don’t say ‘contractually acceptable,’” she interrupted dryly.
He smirked. “I was going to say ‘breathtaking.’”
For the first time in days, she smiled.
And when he offered his arm, she took it.
The gala was held at a grand hall filled with crystal chandeliers and flashing cameras. The press swarmed them the moment they arrived, shouting questions, capturing photos.
But Leonard didn’t let go of her once.
He kept his hand on her waist, his expression warm but unreadable. Samantha played her part too, laughing at his quiet jokes, whispering things into his ear that made them look hopelessly in love.
But underneath it all, tension coiled between them—unspoken, unresolved.
They danced once. Slowly. Elegantly.
Their eyes never strayed.
As the night dragged on, the crowd began to thin, and Leonard led her to a quieter corner of the hall.
“You were incredible tonight,” he said.
“I’ve had practice pretending.”
He flinched slightly at her words. “Maybe one day it won’t be pretend.”
She looked at him. Hard. Searching.
“Maybe,” she echoed. “But that depends on you.”
Leonard didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took her hand, threading their fingers together.
“No more rules,” he said. “Not tonight.”
And for the first time since they signed that contract, Samantha felt the walls between them crack—just a little.
- Writer
