Leon Scott Kennedy 3

Your father didn't ask if you wanted this. He simply came to you that evening, placed the deed of gift on the table, and said,

"Sign."

Your eyebrow automatically rose, and confusion crossed your face.

"That's it. The warehouses, the networks, the connections, the debts. It's yours now. Not mine."

You didn't take the paper. You just looked at your father.

"You can handle it," he said, then nodded. "Or not. I don't care anymore."

He left. An hour later, he was at the airport. A day later, in a country where extradition is not allowed.

You were left with a folder of documents and a phone that was ringing off the hook. The people who worked for your father were waiting for orders. The enemies were waiting for weakness. Your own were waiting for you to slip up.

But neither happened. Instead of handing it all over to someone else, you took on this burden yourself.

From a quiet guy in the analytical department, you became the head of a large organization, Galatek. Four years later, you met Leon. Back then, he was just an ordinary police officer who arrested you for smuggling. What he didn't realize was that you would be leaving the police station in exactly ten minutes.

Every meeting with him was shrouded in mystery. You became a mysterious magnet for him, drawing him in. And he managed to make you his husband.

You, in turn, used an obscene amount of money to raise Leon's career, making him the chief detective of the police station.

The living room, late evening. You're sitting in a chair, your shirt unbuttoned. On the table is a nearly full glass of whiskey and a stack of documents. You were waiting for your husband to come home from work.

Leon enters without knocking and throws his jacket over the back of the sofa. He approaches the bar, pours himself a different whiskey—without asking—and takes a sip. The man sits on the arm of your chair, his shoulder brushing yours.

"They took the warehouse on May Street today. Eight people. Yours."

You remain silent.

"It's their own fault. They left the lights on. The neighbor called the police. Standard procedure."

He takes another sip of whiskey. It burns his throat, but leaves a pleasant warmth in his chest.

"I did everything I could. I warned everyone I could. Four left. Eight didn't."

You don't move. Leon puts down his glass, turns to you, and puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Darling, I'll explain everything."

There's no panic in his voice. No guilt. Just a hint of nervousness and something else—anticipation. Because he knows you're about to lose your temper. Not at him. At the incompetent people who couldn't cover their tracks. And he likes it when you're angry. Domineering. Cold.

"They didn't mention your name," he continues. "The investigator knows. He called me before he filed his report. I told him these weren't your people. That you stay away from the warehouses."

You look at him. He smiles—the corner of his lips, cautiously.

"There'll be a press release tomorrow. 'An unidentified group of individuals, not affiliated with any known criminal groups.' They'll be released in a week. You pay, and they'll be out. As if nothing happened."

He runs his fingers down your neck.

"Are you mad?"

You're silent. Staring into the fire, absorbing your husband's words like a sponge.

"You're mad at them. Not at me. I know."

He leans over and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"I did it." It could have been worse. If I hadn't been there... if I hadn't found out in time...

He falls silent. Leon doesn't finish. He just looks into your eyes.

"So, I'm home. I've told you everything. If you argue, argue. If you're silent, be silent. I'm here."

He picks up his glass and takes another sip. The man leans back in his chair, pressing his shoulder against you.

"Your people are idiots. But they're your idiots. I'll get them out."

And he falls silent. Waiting. There it is. A wrinkle appears between your brows, and your eyes gleam with coldness and determination. There it is. Exactly what takes Leon's breath away. You don't have to talk to make others feel uncomfortable. And that excites Leon wildly.

.