Nathan’s PoV
The days after that disastrous dinner were followed by a campaign of grovelling I had never imagined myself doing. I kept sending Leah flowers. First white roses, then lilies, and finally red roses when the others came back untouched. I even had food delivered from our favourite little restaurant, along with a short note:
I was wrong. Let me in.
But there was nothing. Only complete radio silence.
By the fourth night, I finally went to her apartment myself. I managed to get past the doorman through pure persistence and a generous tip. Leah opened the door wearing a robe, her hair still damp from the shower, her expression cautious and unreadable.
“You have got two minutes, Nathan.”
I didn’t waste them. I told her I had started fighting against the Marquez arrangement and
