The private island estate glittered like a dream under a velvet Caribbean sky, the night air warm and tinged with the scent of hibiscus and the faint burn of sea salt. The courtyard had been transformed for the final evening party—an exclusive bonfire gathering for Leo's elite circle. Pillowed seating was arranged around low fire pits, drinks poured liberally, and laughter laced through the air with an intimacy that only isolation could produce.
Ariana Blake, twenty-eight, sat cross-legged on a plush cushion beside the largest fire. Her dress was a flowing, silk wrap in burnt orange that kissed her golden-brown skin, her dark hair braided over one shoulder in a loose fishtail. The warmth of the flames painted her face with amber light, and the flicker in her wide eyes wasn't just from fire—it was from nerves.
Across the circle, Leo Maddox Cross, thirty-four, watched her.
Six-foot-two, built like a man who spent more time controlling empires than relaxing on beaches, Leo sat back with a drink in hand, his black shirt undone at the collar. His expression was unreadable—save for the brief flickers when their eyes met. They hadn't spoken much since their confrontation on the balcony two nights ago. But something had shifted.
Everyone felt it.
And now, fueled by cocktails and curiosity, the group had circled around a suggestion that would test it.
"Truth or dare," someone had said.
Harmless, at first. A joke. But with each turn, the dares grew bolder. The truths more personal. No one was spared—not even Leo.
And now it was Ariana's turn.
"Truth or dare?" asked Marcela, a Venezuelan billionaire heiress who never tired of drama.
Ariana raised a brow, lips quirking. "Truth."
Marcela leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Do you love him?"
The group quieted instantly.
The fire cracked.
Ariana's breath caught in her throat. "Excuse me?"
Marcela shrugged innocently. "Your fiancé. Leo. Do you love him?"
Ariana blinked. Across from her, Leo tensed. His knuckles tightened around the glass in his hand.
"No comment?" Marcela teased.
Ariana exhaled slowly. Her voice was quiet, steady. "I don't know what I feel."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"It's the truth," she said. "And love isn't something I toss around like a party favor."
Someone snorted. Someone else clinked their glass.
Marcela smirked. "Fair enough."
The bottle passed again.
Leo didn't look at her.
He just said, "Truth."
All eyes turned.
This time it was the Saudi prince who smiled. "Do you believe in love, Leo?"
Ariana's pulse kicked.
The fire seemed to hiss louder.
Leo leaned back, expression unreadable. "No," he said.
The word dropped like a stone.
Silence followed.
Ariana's spine straightened.
Leo took a sip of his drink, eyes on the fire. "Love is unreliable. People lie, cheat, pretend. Love is a myth we tell ourselves to justify desire or dependency."
His voice was even, clinical.
It hurt more because it was calm.
Ariana forced a small laugh. "So what are we then? A myth?"
Leo's jaw tightened. "We're a contract."
Every nerve in her body went still.
She stood slowly. "Thanks for the reminder."
Then she turned and walked away.
---
She paced along the beach, her heels discarded, feet sinking into the cool sand. The sky was obsidian, dotted with stars. Waves rolled in rhythm like a cruel metronome to her thoughts.
A contract.
He had kissed her. Held her during the storm. Stayed up with her when she was sick. Brought her a sketchbook. Defended her publicly.
And it was still… just a contract?
Her chest ached.
Footsteps behind her. Heavy. Hesitant.
"Don't," she said before he reached her.
Leo stopped. "Ariana—"
"No," she snapped, spinning around. "You don't get to kiss me and hold me like I mean something and then throw me under the bus in front of your guests."
His expression cracked—just slightly. "I was protecting—"
"You weren't protecting anything. You were hiding. And you're a coward."
His jaw twitched. "You think I don't feel something?"
"Then say it."
Silence.
"I don't know how," he said finally, voice hoarse.
Ariana shook her head, tears stinging. "Then figure it out. Because I'm done pretending this doesn't hurt."
He stepped forward. "You think I don't lie awake every night wondering what this is? What you are to me?"
She blinked at him, breath catching.
"I've built walls so high, Ariana," he said, voice low. "Because the last time I let someone in, I lost everything."
She stared at him. "Your brother."
He froze.
She stepped closer. "I saw the photo. I didn't mean to snoop. But I know pain when I see it."
Leo closed his eyes.
"He believed in me," he said. "And I failed him."
"You didn't kill him."
"I didn't save him."
Ariana touched his hand.
He flinched—but didn't pull away.
"I'm not asking for perfect," she said softly. "Just honesty. Just… let me in."
For a moment, the wall cracked. Just a little.
"I don't believe in love," he whispered. "But I believe in you."
Her heart slammed.
"That's a start," she said.
And they stood there, two broken people beneath a perfect sky, finally facing each other.
---