The sudden halt of the yacht jolted Emma forward slightly. She steadied herself, glancing around as the engine's hum died completely. The eerie silence of the water stretched endlessly around them, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves.
"What now?" Emma snapped, her frustration mounting. She turned to Leon, who stood at the helm, his hands resting casually on the controls.
"We need to talk," Leon said, his tone colder now, devoid of the earlier playfulness. He turned to face her fully, the faint moonlight casting sharp shadows over his face.
Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh, great. Let me guess—you're about to lecture me about responsibility or whatever excuse you've cooked up for this ridiculous engagement."
Leon's gaze hardened, a faint flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "It's not about excuses, Miss Whitmore. This engagement—it's necessary."
She folded her arms, glaring at him. "Wait, wait, wait… Necessary for who? You? My father? Again, for your information, I don't care."
"You should," Leon said evenly. His voice, steady and calculated, carried a weight that made her pause. "Because if you don't go through with this, your father has another plan."
Emma's stomach tightened, her skepticism warring with a growing unease. "What are you talking about?"
Leon took a slow step closer, his expression unreadable. "Do you think your father would just let you walk away from this? He's already arranged an alternative. Someone else. Someone who... let's just say, wouldn't bother asking for your consent." Of course he was lying, he needed to, to proceed with this marriage.
Emma's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. Obviously. That man never even cares about me! I guess the only thing he wishes is I disappear and what nonsense are you saying right now? I believe he didn't want anything to do with me."
Leon's lips curved into a faint, almost mocking smile. "Believe what you want. But if you think a man like Allan Whitmore doesn't care, you're more naive than I thought."
Emma stiffened, his words striking a nerve. "Naive? You don't know anything about me."
"Don't I?" Leon stepped even closer, his cold, piercing gaze locking onto hers. "You think your father's been indifferent all these years? Fine. Then explain why he's already arranged a backup plan—a groom older than him, and rich enough to buy out your so-called freedom. Or maybe you'd prefer that over me?" He was bluffing again and he was confident he was right based on her reaction.
Emma's breath hitched, her pulse quickening as his words sank in. "You're bluffing," she said, but her voice wavered, betraying her uncertainty.
Leon leaned in slightly, his tone dropping lower, each word deliberate. "I don't bluff, Miss Whitmore. Think about it… why would he stop at one deal if there's a better way to secure his empire?"
Emma stared at him, a mix of anger and fear twisting in her chest. The thought of her father—cold and calculating—using her as another piece on his chessboard wasn't far-fetched. But Leon? His icy demeanor and sharp words only added to her confusion.
"You're manipulating me," she said finally, her voice shaking with anger.
"Maybe," Leon admitted, stepping back as a cool smirk replaced the intensity in his gaze. "But if it's me or someone worse, wouldn't you rather have the devil you know?"
Emma clenched her fists, her jaw tightening as frustration surged through her. "You're really…" She paused, her frown deepening with realization. "I should've known there was something off when you approached me at the airport. Sick man!"
Leon shrugged his shoulders, his face calm and composed. "I told you before, I'm a rational businessman. I don't let emotions or whims dictate my decisions. When your father offered an arranged marriage, it was a logical proposal—why should I refuse?"
Emma's eyes narrowed, her anger simmering. "You…" she said, her voice trembling with controlled fury. "I should applaud you for your performance. Never would I have guessed you could act this well."
She took a step back, letting out a bitter laugh as she looked up at the star-filled sky. "I almost thought you had a split personality. But I see now—this," she gestured towards him, her sneer cutting, "this is the real you, isn't it?"
Leon pursed his lips, offering a thin smile. "That's why you shouldn't judge too quickly. I'm great at acting..." His hand slid back to the controls, starting the yacht's engine. "Let me take you back to your father, so you can decide."
"Wait!" Emma stepped in front of him, her eyes full of anger. "You're not this low, Mr. Leon Gray."
Leon paused, his eyes narrowing at her. A cold smile appeared on his lips. "You think I'm playing a part? No, Miss Whitmore. I'm just being honest with you now."
He turned away, hands moving to the yacht's controls again, but Emma didn't move. "No, you can't be like this," she muttered, her frustration growing.
Leon glanced over at her, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "You don't understand. This is how it has to be."
"How it has to be? With me being a pawn in you and that man's game?" Emma placed a hand to her forehead, still struggling to make sense of everything happening in that moment. "I still remember earlier, you… you promised me that you would turn me into a princess. What is this now?"
Leon's expression faltered for a brief second, his usual cold demeanor cracking as her words hit him. But he quickly regained his composure, his voice low and steady. "I never promised anything like that. What I promised was a solution. A way for you to not be controlled. If you don't do this, someone else will—someone who won't care about your princess fantasy."
His words, despite their harshness, held a certain finality. Leon stared at her, as if trying to measure whether she understood the gravity of the situation. In simpler terms, it's like Leon was saying, this is the only option she had.
"You don't have a choice, Emma. You never did."