(Leo's POV)
The Royal Club was one of those places where old money and power gathered.
The kind of restaurant where conversations weren't just about food—they were about mergers, investments, and billion-dollar deals.
It was all black marble floors, towering chandeliers, and gold-accented decor. The kind of place that didn't have a menu—because if you had to ask for prices, you didn't belong there.
I barely touched my steak. Medium rare, perfectly seared, paired with an aged whiskey. Normally, I would have cared.
But my mother's matchmaking attempt had killed my appetite.
I exhaled sharply, setting down my glass as she continued to smile at me, like she hadn't just suggested I marry my best friend.
"Leo, you haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" she asked, amused.
"I heard you just fine," I muttered, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "You want me to take Lena more seriously. Again."
She sighed dramatically. "Darling, I'm not asking you to propose tomorrow, but she is a lovely girl—smart, elegant, and she understands your world."
I resisted the urge to groan. "Mother—"
But then I saw her.
And my entire world tilted.
Ella Sinclair.
Dressed in a satin red dress, hugging every dangerous curve of her body, the high slit revealing legs that belonged in a goddamn museum.
She walked into the restaurant like she owned the damn place—head high, shoulders back, confidence dripping from every step of her sharp stilettos.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
The lighting of the restaurant hit her just right, casting golden shadows against her smooth skin, highlighting the fullness of her lips—those lips were definitely made for sin.
I hadn't seen her since we got back from our business trip, and I had convinced myself that I was overthinking everything.
That she wasn't in my head.
I had been fucking wrong.
And then I saw who she was with.
Zack Harrison.
My jaw tightened.
She didn't see me, too caught up in whatever the hell she was arguing with him about. And it was heated.
Her eyes were ablaze with frustration, her full lips parted as she spoke sharply. Zack looked equally pissed, his hand gripping his glass a little too tightly.
I had no idea what they were arguing about.
But I had a feeling it wasn't fucking business.
"Leo, are you even listening?"
My mother's voice snapped me back.
I forced my gaze away from Ella, exhaling slowly. "Of course, I'm listening."
She followed my line of sight for a second before shaking her head. "Are you stalking a business rival during our lunch now?" she teased.
I forced a smirk. "Something like that."
She sighed, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "You're impossible. I'll be in the ladies' room. When I come back, try to at least pretend you're interested in our conversation."
I barely heard her as she left. My attention was already locked onto Ella.
She was standing now, hands clenched at her sides, breathing heavily. Zack looked just as frustrated, running a hand through his hair.
I took a slow sip of my whiskey, watching as she turned on her heel, walking toward the exit.
Now or never.
I was up in seconds.
I caught up with her just as she reached the main lobby, where the chandeliers bathed the space in a golden glow.
"Ella."
She froze.
For a split second, I saw the flicker of irritation in her expression before she smoothed it out.
"Sterling," she said coolly, turning to face me.
Up close, she looked even more devastating.
The satin of her dress clung to her like a second skin, the deep red making her skin glow. The slit in the dress revealed just enough leg to be dangerous, and I had to force myself to keep my gaze on her face.
"Didn't expect to see you here," I murmured.
Her lips parted slightly—those lips, fuck. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Why? You think you own every high-end place in the city?"
I smirked. "No, but I wouldn't mind owning you."
Ella let out a sharp breath, glaring. "And here I thought you might actually be tolerable today."
I chuckled, leaning slightly closer. "What were you and Zack arguing about?"
She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "How is that any of your business?"
I tilted my head. "I don't like seeing my business partners upset."
Her lips twitched. "Bullshit. You just like seeing me unravel."
I took a slow sip of my drink, watching her carefully. "That, too."
Her eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them.
For a second, just a second, she wasn't irritated.
She was studying me.
Like she was trying to figure out why the hell I was so interested in her.
She stepped closer, her perfume hitting me all at once—something dark, something warm, something completely fucking addictive.
"You can stop analyzing me now," she murmured.
I smirked. "And here I thought you liked the attention."
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Attention from men like you? No thanks."
"Men like me?"
She tilted her head, her lips curving into something dangerously close to a smirk. "Men who think they can have anything they want."
I leaned in slightly, letting my lips brush against her ear.
"I don't think, Sinclair," I whispered. "I know."
Her breath hitched, barely noticeable, but I fucking noticed.
Then she pulled back, her gaze flashing.
"You have no idea who you're dealing with, Sterling."
I grinned. "Neither do you."
She exhaled sharply, giving me one last look before turning on her heel and walking out of the restaurant, leaving me there with a smirk on my face and a problem in my head.
Ella Sinclair was a fucking problem.
And I wasn't sure if I wanted to solve her—or ruin her.