The conference room at Cross Global's Midtown Manhattan headquarters had been transformed overnight. Rows of journalists, photographers, and industry analysts filled every seat, the air a mixture of hot camera bulbs and whispered speculation. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows behind the podium revealed the gray sprawl of New York's skyline, overcast with storm clouds like a reflection of Leo's mood.
Leonardo Maddox Cross, thirty-five, six-foot-three, stood poised behind a sleek, steel lectern. Dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal Armani suit, not a hair out of place in his slicked-back dark brown hair, he looked every bit the calculated trillionaire the world feared and revered. But the pressure bearing down on him today had nothing to do with business margins or quarterly earnings.
It was personal.
To his left, Ariana Blake sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap. Twenty-eight, five-foot-six, light caramel skin, auburn hair in a soft bun, and wide hazel eyes that had seen too much in the past few days. She wore a simple navy sheath dress—elegant, understated, and completely at odds with the media firestorm swirling around her. Despite the press and the stakes, she held her head high. But Leo could see the subtle tremble in her fingers.
A leak—strategic, ugly, and suspiciously timed—had cast her as the mole behind Cross Global's merger leak. No one had said it aloud, but the implications were everywhere. A freelance designer from nowhere, suddenly engaged to a trillionaire? Too convenient. Too easy to blame.
He'd reviewed the internal files, dug through digital trails, and knew with absolute certainty she wasn't behind it. But knowing wasn't enough. In this world, perception reigned.
This wasn't just about Ariana anymore.
It was about trust. His trust. And something deeper he couldn't name.
Leo adjusted the microphone. "Thank you all for coming."
Flashes popped like gunfire. Cameras captured the angle of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
"As many of you are aware, Cross Global is in the process of finalizing a high-level merger with Kellington Industries, a deal that could reshape the future of global AI and infrastructure."
Another round of flashes. Heads nodded, pens scratched.
"In recent days," Leo continued, "sensitive information was leaked to the press. Information that was classified and could have jeopardized months of negotiation."
He glanced at Ariana. She met his gaze—quiet, unsure.
A beat passed.
"I'll be direct," Leo said, voice tightening. "There have been rumors suggesting that Ariana Blake, my fiancée, had access to this information and used it irresponsibly. Let me be clear."
He stepped forward, away from the podium.
"She didn't."
The room went silent. Flashes paused. Even the air stopped.
"She has no involvement in my business affairs. She didn't leak anything, nor does she possess the clearance or access required to do so. The leak was internal—and orchestrated by someone with a far more established motive. We're already taking legal action."
Murmurs rose. A few reporters looked visibly disappointed. No scandal here. Not the kind they wanted.
"But perhaps what disturbs me more," Leo continued, voice low and unflinching, "is how quickly people were ready to believe the worst. About a woman who has done nothing but support me, privately and publicly, with grace I don't deserve."
Ariana blinked.
"She's not just my fiancée," he said, turning his full attention to her now. "She's the one person I trust."
It was the most honest thing he'd said out loud in years.
The room exploded with questions. Microphones were thrust forward. "Mr. Cross, are you saying you believe she's being targeted?" "Will she pursue legal action?" "Is this an official exoneration—?"
Leo held up a hand. "That's all for today. We won't be taking questions."
Security stepped forward, parting the path. He extended a hand to Ariana.
She hesitated—but took it.
And just like that, they walked out together, hand in hand, through a wall of flashing lights, into the lobby of Cross Global's glass tower, and into the back of a sleek, waiting black SUV.
---
The silence in the car was suffocating.
Ariana stared out the tinted window, fingers clutching the hem of her dress. Her heart was still hammering, even as the building disappeared behind them.
"You didn't have to say all that," she said finally, voice low.
Leo sat beside her, expression unreadable. "Yes, I did."
She turned. "You just told the entire world that I'm the one person you trust. Do you realize what that means to people?"
"I don't care what it means to them," he said, eyes fixed ahead. "I care what it means to you."
Her breath caught.
A moment passed. Then another.
Leo's jaw tightened. "I know you didn't leak anything, Ariana. I shouldn't have let this escalate."
She frowned. "You grew distant after the leak. You looked at me like—like you were calculating."
"I was." He didn't flinch. "I was calculating the damage, the risk. That's what I do. That doesn't mean I believed you did it."
"You could've said that sooner."
"I needed to be sure."
Her chest twisted at the brutal honesty. "And now that you are?"
"I've made my move. Anyone who still questions your integrity answers to me."
She nodded slowly. "You know... when I took this deal, I didn't think I'd have to prove myself to the world."
He turned, his voice gentler. "You shouldn't have to."
Her laugh was bitter. "But I do. Because people see a woman in your orbit and assume the worst."
"They see a woman with power. And they're afraid of what that means."
His words, strangely empowering, took her off guard.
They rode in silence again, the city rushing past in blurs of gray and gold. She turned to look at him—really look.
"Why did you say that?" she asked. "That I'm the one person you trust?"
Leo's eyes met hers.
"Because it's true," he said.
Her stomach fluttered—but she crushed the feeling. This was still a contract. Still a performance.
Wasn't it?
---
Later that night, Ariana stood barefoot in the penthouse kitchen, staring at the open fridge. Her hair was down now, curling slightly from the humidity. She wore a loose tee and leggings—comfort clothes. The mask was off.
But her mind raced.
Leo had defended her. On the biggest stage. In front of the people who mattered most in his world. She should've been relieved, maybe even grateful.
Instead, she felt… unsteady.
Behind her, the soft sound of footsteps.
She turned to see Leo in gray lounge pants and a black long-sleeve tee, barefoot, hair slightly tousled. Still maddeningly composed.
"I didn't expect to see you up," she said.
"I couldn't sleep."
She nodded. "Same."
He opened the cabinet and took out two mugs. "Tea?"
She nodded.
He moved with calm efficiency, boiling water, steeping the bags. The kitchen was quiet save for the low hum of appliances and the occasional clang of ceramic.
When he handed her the cup, their fingers brushed. Just for a moment. But it sent a jolt straight through her.
They sat at the marble island, sipping in silence.
Finally, Ariana broke it. "Thank you. For today."
He looked at her. "You don't have to thank me for doing the right thing."
"But I will anyway. Because you didn't have to."
Leo studied her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
"You were right earlier," she said. "People were ready to believe the worst of me."
"Then they're fools."
She smiled faintly. "You say that now."
"I should've said it sooner."
She glanced down. "I don't know what this is anymore," she whispered. "Us. This arrangement."
His jaw clenched. "It's... complicated."
"I'm starting to forget where the contract ends and where... whatever this is begins."
Leo looked away, then back again. "So am I."
The words sat between them like a ticking clock.
She stood suddenly, needing space. "I should sleep."
Leo stood too. "Ariana—"
She turned.
"I meant what I said," he said quietly. "You're not alone in this."
She didn't respond.
But when she passed him on the way to her room, her shoulder brushed his arm—and neither of them moved away.
---