~Leon's POV~
I listened to his words, but my gaze had already fallen.
His figure was lean, yes, but perfectly sculpted. Not bone. And my face fell, instantly, undeniably, on his damn tiny waist.
I felt the heat rising in my chest, but I quickly spoke to cover my tracks.
"Do whatever you want, Beck," I said flatly. "You could walk out naked for all I care. It has nothing to do with me."
Beck tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. President."
He reached for the button of his trousers, starting to slide them down.
Panic flared in my gut. I couldn't let him continue.
"Stop!" I barked. "I might vomit if I have to see that little thing of yours. Don't make me sick, Beck, or you'll find yourself sleeping outside."
Beck froze, his smirk vanishing into a look of startled embarrassment.
He snatched the silk pajamas and rushed into the bathroom without another word.
The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the sudden silence.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, but then I felt it.
My body was reacting. A heavy, persistent heat was pooling in my lap.
"No way," I hissed to myself, gritting my teeth. "That bag of bones is not getting you up."
I cursed my own biology. I was Leon Verdanis; I wasn't supposed to be affected by a boy with a sharp tongue and a small frame.
I quickly crossed the room and slipped under the heavy duvet.
I pulled the covers up high, desperate to hide and control the evidence of my arousal.
I lay there in the dark, heart hammering, waiting for the sound of the shower to drown out my thoughts.
Not long after, the bathroom door opened.
Beck stepped out, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.
I almost chuckled. What did he think he was?
Someone as tiny as him didn't need a massive towel to cover up. It looked ridiculous, and yet, I couldn't look away.
I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, but I could hear him moving.
I squeezed one eye shut, feigning sleep, but I could still see him clearly and hear every movement he made.
He was practically half-naked in front of me for minutes. I watched him through my lashes, my mind racing.
What are you doing, Beck? Are you trying to seduce me?
I smirked internally. Joker.
Finally, Beck finished and climbed onto the bed.
I smirked internally. Joker.
Finally, Beck finished and climbed onto the bed.
"I want to put a pillow in the middle," he murmured, reaching for a cushion to create a barrier.
"No way," I snapped, eyes still closed. "I won't be able to sleep comfortably with a wall in my bed."
He tried to explain, to argue for his 'safety,' but I silenced him with a grunt.
Eventually, the room went quiet, and we both drifted off.
In the middle of the night, I woke up feeling a strange weight on my body.
I looked down and found Beck curled up directly on my chest.
He was using me like a pillow, his breathing soft and rhythmic against my skin.
I tried to move, to push him away, but he only clung to me tighter.
"Hmm..." he mumbled in his sleep, his small hands clutching my silk robe.
Suddenly, I felt it.
It wasn't just my body reacting this time; my heart gave a strange, heavy thud.
I froze, staring at the top of his head.
It must be because it's been a while since I had sex, I told myself, desperate for a logical excuse.
That's it. Tomorrow, I'll have the staff arrange someone for me so I can have a moment of release.
I was confusing myself. It had to be the abstinence.
It couldn't possibly be him.
I fell back into a restless sleep, the weight of him still heavy and warm against my heart.
The next morning, I was the first to wake. I didn't move.
I stayed perfectly still, watching him.
Becklan was still fast asleep, his face buried in my chest.
In his half-conscious state, his fingers began to move, absentmindedly rubbing the muscles of my chest as if I were a comfortable pillow.
It was a soft, rhythmic motion. He looked peaceful, almost innocent.
Then, his eyes fluttered open.
I watched the exact second the realization hit him.
He froze. He realized his head wasn't on a pillow, but on me.
Slowly, fearfully, he lifted his head. His wide, startled eyes met mine.
I didn't blink. I just stared back, watching every second of his realization.
"AHHH!" Becklan screamed, the sound echoing through the suite.
"Why are you shouting?" I shouted back, my voice sharp enough to cut through his panic. "Have you seen a ghost?"
He scrambled away from me, nearly tumbling off the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mr. President!" he stammered, his face turning a deep, frantic red.
I sat up slowly, stretching my neck with a groan.
"You should be sorry," I bit out, feigning irritation. "My body is aching. Your body is too hard, it's like sleeping next to a pile of rocks."
The lie tasted bitter. In truth, I had slept better than I had in months.
"I am so sorry, sir," he repeated, bowing his head in shame.
"Enough," I commanded, swinging my legs out of bed. "We have a long day ahead of us. Get up and prepare."
Becklan stood up instantly, his movements frantic and clumsy.
"I... I need to step outside and get my bags, sir," he said, bowing one last time.
"Whatever," I muttered, not looking back as I headed toward the bathroom.
I heard the door click shut behind him.
I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection. My chest still felt the ghost of his touch.
"What the hell is this feeling?" I whispered to the mirror.
He was just my maid. A nuisance. A liar. How was I allowing him to get this close to me?
"This needs to stop," I told my reflection. The denial was starting to feel like a losing battle.
I finished getting ready and dressed quickly. I needed to be surrounded by people, by business, by anything that wasn't him.
I walked into the dining area. The air was filled with the smell of coffee and the low hum of voices.
My models and staff immediately straightened up, greeting me in a chorus of "Good morning, Mr. President."
I acknowledged them with a curt nod, but my eyes were already scanning the room.
I found him.
Becklan was standing near the far window, talking to Frank. He had changed into the new clothes I'd bought him, a crisp shirt that made him look less like a servant and more like... something else.
The sight of them together made my jaw tighten.
"Marcus," I called my assistant over. "Get Becklan here. Now."
When he arrived at my table, I tried to keep my voice casual, but the jealousy tasted like copper in my mouth.
"It looks like you went to shower in Frank's room," I said, my tone dripping with false indifference.
Becklan's eyes widened. "No, sir! I showered in Suite Three. The security men had already left for their shift, so I took the chance."
"I see," I replied, feeling a small, irrational wave of relief.
"Go to the kitchen and bring me my breakfast," I ordered. "And when you're done, take your bags and move them into my room."
Becklan blinked, looking genuinely stunned. "Huh?"
I leaned forward, my gaze locking onto his. "Did you lose your hearing, or would you prefer to sleep with the security guards tonight? Because if you come knocking late again, I won't open the door."
Becklan's face went through a series of rapid changes before settling on a flustered nod. "I understand, sir. Thank you, Mr. President."
He turned and hurried toward the kitchen.
I watched him go, then cursed myself under my breath.
Why did I just tell him to move back in? I just said I wanted to stop this.
I thought about the "moment" I had planned for later, the release I told myself I needed to clear my head.
"Leon, what is wrong with you?" I muttered to myself.
I was the one setting the trap, but it felt more and more like I was the one getting caught in it.