Ariana Blake had seen luxury before. She'd passed by it in glass storefronts, glimpsed it in magazines, even served it as a temp waitress at celebrity events. But she had never walked into it—never been claimed by it the way she was now.
As their black SUV curved up the long gravel road, she stared in quiet awe through the tinted windows.
Leo's private island estate unfolded like something out of a fantasy catalog. The driveway was lined with palm trees, their thick green leaves swaying lazily in the golden coastal breeze. Beyond them, flowering bushes spilled down the hillside—white hibiscus, yellow plumeria, pink bougainvillea blooming in overgrown, fragrant waves. The estate itself loomed ahead: a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa of sun-bleached stone, terracotta roof tiles, and vast glass doors that reflected the glimmer of the ocean behind it.
She swallowed, feeling utterly out of place in her strappy beige sandals and flowy linen dress. It wasn't that she looked bad—at 5'7", with long legs, soft curves, and wild red hair braided over one shoulder, she could clean up well when she tried. But nothing about her said billionaire's fiancée. Not the scratch on her left shin from bumping her suitcase, not the way her tote bag strap dug into her shoulder, not the nerves swirling in her stomach like storm clouds waiting to break.
Leonardo Maddox Cross, on the other hand, looked like he owned this world. Because he did.
He stepped out of the vehicle first, towering at 6'2" in black slacks and a crisp white shirt rolled up at the forearms. The ocean breeze tugged slightly at his dark hair, but nothing about his presence faltered. Not his posture. Not his focus. Not the quiet intensity in his steel-gray eyes.
As Ariana climbed out beside him, the front doors of the villa opened and a tall man in a tailored cream linen uniform approached with an easy smile.
"Welcome back, Mr. Cross," he greeted, bowing slightly.
"Hello, Dario," Leo replied, shaking his hand. "Everything ready?"
"Of course." Dario turned to Ariana. "And this must be Miss Blake. We've been expecting you."
Ariana extended her hand automatically. "Ariana," she said, her voice tight but polite.
"Welcome to Isla Maddox," Dario said. "If there's anything you need during your stay, please don't hesitate to ask. We're fully staffed but discreet."
Ariana nodded. "Thanks."
They stepped inside.
The villa's interior took her breath away.
Massive white arches opened into wide, airy rooms bathed in natural light. Cream and sand-colored sofas were scattered across a polished stone floor. Artifacts from around the world adorned the shelves—bronze sculptures, rare books, and hand-painted ceramics. A marble staircase curved up to the second floor, and somewhere in the distance, water trickled softly—an indoor fountain or pool, she couldn't tell.
She turned slowly, taking it all in.
"This place is insane," she whispered under her breath.
Leo looked at her with a hint of amusement. "Too much?"
She shot him a dry look. "You own a private island. Everything is too much."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he nodded to Dario. "The guest rooms?"
Dario cleared his throat. "There's been… a small issue. The secondary suites are undergoing unexpected maintenance from last week's rainstorm. The master suite is fully functional, however."
Leo's jaw twitched slightly. "So we'll be sharing."
Ariana blinked. "Sharing?"
"There's only one room ready," Dario confirmed apologetically. "It's quite large. Two walk-in closets, a double vanity, and a soaking tub. But… only one bed."
Ariana stared at Leo, then back at Dario.
She could feel her skin heat. "Of course there's only one bed."
Leo's lips curved faintly. "We'll manage."
She crossed her arms. "I'm building a pillow barrier. Non-negotiable."
"Noted," Leo replied without missing a beat. "Shall I carry your bags?"
She gawked. "What happened to you? Are you possessed by the spirit of a gentleman?"
He just smiled.
---
Their shared suite was bigger than her entire apartment back home.
The centerpiece was a four-poster king bed dressed in pale linen and soft gray throws. One entire wall opened to a private balcony overlooking the sea, the doors currently open to let in the breeze. A seating area with two velvet armchairs and a writing desk sat beside a built-in fireplace. A walk-in closet stretched longer than most hallways. And the bathroom—oh, the bathroom—was marble and gold with a freestanding tub beneath a chandelier.
Ariana stood in the doorway, bag in hand, mouth slightly open.
Leo set his suitcase down and loosened his collar. "You can take the left side. Closet, drawers, whatever you need."
"Thanks," she murmured, still overwhelmed.
He moved past her and pulled the balcony curtains wider, letting the ocean air flood in.
"I'll be in meetings the rest of the afternoon," he said. "But dinner tonight is casual. Just a handful of investors arriving early."
She frowned. "Do I need to pretend to be more in love with you than usual?"
Leo glanced over his shoulder, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his face.
"No pretending necessary," he said quietly. "Just don't run."
That caught her off guard.
She blinked. "What?"
He shrugged. "Last time I got close, you ran. This time, just… stay."
She couldn't speak. Not for a long moment.
Then she turned and muttered, "Only if you stop disappearing afterward."
---
The dinner that evening was set on the back terrace, beneath a canopy of string lights and open sky. A long table glowed with golden candles, surrounded by a small group of early-arrival guests: high-level investors, a few powerful CEOs, and one tech billionaire she'd only ever seen in documentaries.
Ariana sat beside Leo, dressed in an elegant off-shoulder navy dress that Naomi had packed for her. Her hair was swept up in a loose knot, soft tendrils framing her face. Her heels clicked nervously under the table.
The air was thick with subtle tension. Not toward her—at least, not yet—but toward Leo. Everyone was waiting for a cue. A hint of warmth. A shift in posture. An unspoken signal that they were allowed to believe in this sudden engagement.
Leo gave them one.
As the second course was served, he leaned over, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and said just loud enough for the table to hear, "You look beautiful tonight."
Ariana flushed.
And smiled.
Not because of the words—but because of the way he said them. Low. Sincere. Not performative.
Real.
He leaned back as the guests subtly eased. Conversations resumed. Wine flowed. The tension dimmed.
"Is this all part of your game?" she whispered under her breath as they toasted.
"Maybe," he replied. "But I'm playing to win."
She tilted her head. "And what's the prize?"
Leo looked her dead in the eye.
"I'll let you know when I figure it out."
---
Later that night, back in their suite, Ariana peeled off her dress and stepped into the giant tub, letting the hot water and lavender soak melt her nerves.
She thought of Leo across the villa, likely still in some meeting or on a late-night call.
She thought of the way he'd looked at her during dinner. The way he hadn't faked it, even when he easily could have.
Was this still business?
Or were the lines blurring even more?
As she dried off and changed into a soft cotton tank top and pajama shorts, she felt the full weight of the day settle over her. She was in paradise. With a man she was pretending to love. And maybe—just maybe—not pretending so well anymore.
She climbed into the massive bed and stacked pillows between their sides, forming a laughable but comforting wall.
It didn't matter. She wouldn't sleep much anyway.
But just as she was about to turn off the bedside lamp, the door opened.
Leo entered quietly, his tie undone, sleeves rolled.
He stopped when he saw the pillow barrier.
"Impressive," he said, amused.
She gave a tired smile. "Non-negotiable."
He crossed the room, paused at his side of the bed, and looked at her seriously.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For today. For dinner. For making it easier."
Her heart ached in a strange way.
She nodded, curling into the covers.
"Goodnight, Leo."
He hesitated.
Then, softly—almost like a secret—he replied, "Goodnight, Ariana."
And for once, the silence between them wasn't lonely.
It was full.
---