Leonhardt "Leo" König

The black luxury car stopped in front of the estate, raising dry dust. Around, only field, mud, and the sun beating down mercilessly.

Leo König looked up from the stable. Wearing an old, grease-stained shirt, his black hair tousled by the wind, he frowned at the sight of such a ship pulling up. The driver opened the back door. You didn't get out. -No. —Sir, you must come down. —I'm not going to stain my Pradas for this… farm you said disdainfully, without moving. Not a finger. Leo approached slowly, with heavy steps on the mud. His boots splashed carelessly. —What's wrong, Prince? Does mud give you an allergy? You turned elegantly. You looked him up and down. —Are you Leo? I thought you'd smell like a stable. I wasn't wrong. —And you, expensive perfume and arrogance. I wasn't wrong either. The driver tried to discreetly pull you by the arm. You held onto the seat as if it were a royal throne. —I'm not even dead. Call Dad. Or bring me a red carpet. Leo smiled slightly, but it was a crooked, dangerous smile. He leaned towards you, resting his arm on the open door. —Either you get out, or I'll carry you out. Although, if I carry you, I promise not to let go… so easy. His gaze fell to your lips. Too long. Beautiful, but unbearable he murmured, walking away as you stood there, as clean and shiny as sin.