chapter 4
1069 Words
---
Ivy stopped looking out the window.
She wasn’t sure if it was fear or pride that kept her from glancing down at the street anymore. But every time she passed the curtain, she kept her hands stiff at her sides and her chin lifted.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Not Leon.
Not the man who watched her like a habit.
It had been three days since she’d last seen him — since she’d told him to stop following her, stop circling her like a wolf pretending to be something gentler. She had watched him freeze in the streetlight that night, his face unreadable, his silence deafening.
And then he was gone.
Good.
She didn’t like the way he looked at her. Not because it scared her — but because it felt like he was trying to see her. All of her. And Ivy had spent too long burying the girl she used to be to let anyone unearth what remained.
Especially not a man like him.
Not someone with blood on his hands and smoke in his lungs.
---
Leon hadn’t stepped foot in The Scarlet Room since she’d told him to stay away.
It wasn’t out of respect.
It was restraint.
Barely.
He wanted to see her again. God, he needed to. The craving had curled under his skin like heat — silent, slow, maddening. His nights had grown longer, his temper shorter. Nothing satisfied. Not the work. Not the money. Not the women who threw themselves at him to earn a fraction of his favor.
They meant nothing.
Because she still lingered in his mind.
That girl with the iron voice and hurricane eyes. The one who didn’t flinch when he stood close. The one who made him feel like he didn’t exist, even when the world bowed at his feet.
She was the only person who didn’t want a damn thing from him.
And somehow, that made him want her more than he should.
“Boss.”
Leon didn’t move.
He was standing at the edge of the rooftop of his penthouse, smoke curling from the tip of a cigarette he hadn’t touched. The city pulsed below him, indifferent.
Marco approached, coat collar pulled high. “We got trouble on the West Docks. Shipment was intercepted.”
Leon exhaled slowly. “By who?”
“Could be Martinez’s people. Could be someone else testing your silence.”
Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Find out. Handle it.”
Marco hesitated. “You sure you’re good?”
Leon looked away from the skyline, jaw clenched. “Define ‘good.’”
“Not thinking about some girl when your empire’s catching fire.”
Leon didn’t smile.
Didn’t deny it.
He just walked back inside and shut the door behind him.
---
The next night, Ivy stepped off the curb after her shift and felt something twist in her stomach.
The street was quiet. Too quiet.
No footsteps. No cars. Just the hum of a broken neon sign blinking down the block.
She clutched her keys tighter and kept walking.
Then she saw them.
Two men.
They weren’t there before. Now they were. Leaning against the mouth of the alleyway, watching her. Smiling like they’d been waiting for a reason.
She didn’t flinch. Just kept walking with her spine straight and her heartbeat pounding.
“Hey,” one of them called. “Where you headed, sweetheart?”
She didn’t answer.
“Aw, come on,” the other one said. “Just being friendly.”
Their footsteps echoed behind her. One picked up pace.
She slipped her hand into her bag, fingers finding her pepper spray.
She didn’t stop walking.
“Hey—!”
A sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.
“I wouldn’t.”
The man paused.
Leon stepped out of the shadows without a word, the look on his face something colder than rage. His presence drowned the street in silence. The men took one look at him and backed off like dogs who’d sniffed a stronger predator.
“I said,” Leon repeated, “walk the other way. Now.”
They ran.
Leon didn’t move. He stood still, hands at his sides, coat drifting slightly in the wind like a cloak.
Ivy turned, furious.
“I told you not to follow me!”
Leon’s jaw was tight. “And if I hadn’t?”
“I can handle myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“That’s not your choice!”
“I made it mine the second you showed up bloody and alone in that alley!”
Her breath caught.
Silence again.
He took a step closer, voice low. “You can keep pushing me away. I deserve it. I probably deserve worse. But don’t pretend like you don’t feel anything when I’m near.”
She stared at him — cold, unreadable.
Then said, “You don’t get to decide how I feel.”
Leon blinked.
“I don’t want your protection,” she continued, “and I don’t want your attention.”
“That’s a lie.”
“No,” she said. “It’s not. You just can’t stand being ignored.”
He took another step forward. “And you can’t admit you’re scared.”
Her voice dropped. “I’ve been scared before. I know what it looks like. This? This is me telling you to walk away.”
Leon didn’t.
Couldn’t.
He stared at her — the fury in her, the walls, the scars he couldn’t see but felt.
And he said the first thing that ever scared him to admit.
“I can’t.”
She exhaled like she was holding back the urge to scream. Then she turned her back and walked away.
Leon didn’t follow.
Not this time.
He just watched.
As if letting her go was the first real pain he’d ever tasted.
---
She didn’t sleep that night.
Again.
And when the morning came, Ivy stood in front of the bathroom mirror with tired eyes and a tightening throat.
She should’ve called the police when those men followed her.
She should’ve screamed when Leon showed up.
But the worst part — the thing she hated most — was that a small, cold part of her had been relieved to see him.
Not because she wanted him.
But because she didn’t want to be alone.
And that scared her more than any man with a knife.
---
- Writer
