The storm had passed.
But he was still here.
Anastasia blinked, her mind still foggy from sleep, her body still wrapped in warmth.
Something solid.
Something unfamiliar—yet, strangely, comforting.
Her pulse jumped as she realized where she was.
Not in her bed.
Not alone.
But in his arms.
Leonidas.
Her breath hitched as the realization slammed into her.
She had fallen asleep on him.
And he had let her.
Not only that—he was still holding her.
Her cheek was pressed against his chest, the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat filling her ears. His arm was draped around her waist, strong and secure, as if even in sleep, he refused to let go.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
She had never been this close to a man before.
And definitely not him.
Slowly—carefully—she tilted her head up.
And that was when she saw it.
He was awake.
Watching her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Leonidas' gaze was unreadable, dark and intense, like he was memorizing her.
She should have pulled away.
Should have moved.
But she couldn't.
Because for the first time, she saw something different in his eyes.
Something gentle.
Something dangerous.
His fingers brushed against her waist, barely a touch—yet enough to send a shiver through her.
"You're awake," he murmured.
His voice was rough from sleep, deeper, more intimate.
She swallowed, nodding slowly.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged.
She knew she should speak.
Should say something—anything.
But she couldn't find the words.
Not when he was looking at her like that.
Like she was something precious.
Like she was something he didn't want to let go of.
His gaze dropped.
To her lips.
Anastasia's breath stilled.
The room felt smaller.
The air thicker.
She didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't dare to look away.
And then—
Leonidas reached up, slowly, deliberately.
His fingers traced along her cheek, his touch featherlight.
Anastasia's heart slammed against her ribs.
He wasn't forcing her.
Wasn't demanding.
Just waiting.
Giving her a choice.
She should have pulled away.
Should have said no.
But instead—
She leaned in.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
And that was all it took.
Leonidas' eyes darkened.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her face toward him.
And then—
He kissed her.
Soft.
Gentle.
Unbelievably tender.
Not rushed.
Not possessive.
Just slow.
Just careful.
Like he was afraid she might break.
Heat flooded her veins, a dizzying warmth that made her fingers curl against his shirt.
He didn't deepen the kiss.
Didn't push for more.
Just let it linger.
Let her feel it.
And when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers, he murmured—
"I've wanted to do that for a long time."
Anastasia's heart stopped.
And then—
It shattered.
Because in that moment, she knew.
She was in trouble.
---
Later That Morning
Anastasia stood in the vast, sunlit kitchen, her fingers wrapped around the warm porcelain of the coffee mug.
It should have been simple.
Just coffee.
Nothing more.
And yet, she couldn't ignore the way her hands trembled slightly. The way her heart thundered against her ribs.
She had never done something like this before.
Never willingly sought him out.
Never wanted to close the distance between them.
But last night had changed something.
Waking up in his arms.
Feeling his warmth wrapped around her.
Hearing his steady, quiet breaths as if she belonged there.
And that kiss...
Her cheeks burned at the memory.
It hadn't been forceful or possessive.
It had been tender.
Unexpectedly so.
And that scared her more than anything else.
Because Leonidas Nikoladis was not a man known for tenderness.
He was ruthless.
Unforgiving.
Powerful.
And yet, when he had kissed her, when he had held her through the night, it had felt like a promise.
A promise she wasn't sure she was ready to face.
But she couldn't pretend nothing had changed.
She couldn't pretend she didn't feel something shifting between them.
And so, here she was.
Holding a cup of coffee like it was some kind of offering.
A small, insignificant gesture that felt impossibly big.
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself.
She wasn't doing this for him.
She was doing it for herself.
Because she wanted to.
Because she needed to.
Because maybe—just maybe—she wanted to see what would happen if she stopped running.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned and made her way to his office.
Leonidas' office was quiet, filled with the scent of dark leather and something distinctly him.
He was standing by the window, his back to her, tall and imposing as ever.
She hesitated in the doorway.
Her grip on the coffee tightened.
Then—
As if he could sense her—
"Come in, Anastasia."
His voice was deep, calm, but there was something else in it.
Something unreadable.
She stepped inside, pushing the door open with her free hand.
Leonidas turned then, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
The moment his gaze flickered to the coffee mug in her hands, something shifted in the air.
A moment of stillness.
Then—
"You're bringing me coffee?"
His tone was unreadable.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Yes."
A slow, almost lazy arch of his brow.
"You never have before."
Her fingers curled around the warm ceramic. "I know."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Then—
"You're avoiding the question, Anastasia."
Her breath caught.
Of course he noticed.
Of course he could see right through her.
She hesitated, shifting her weight slightly.
And then—quietly—
"I just... wanted to."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Just stood there, watching her.
Then, slowly, he moved toward her.
The closer he got, the heavier the air became, until he was standing just close enough for her to feel his presence like a physical force.
Her fingers twitched against the mug.
And then—
His hand brushed hers.
Soft.
Barely a touch.
But she felt it.
Everywhere.
Leonidas took the mug from her hands, his fingers lingering a second too long against hers.
She swallowed hard.
Then—
He took a slow sip.
A quiet pause.
Anastasia braced herself for him to criticize it.
To say it wasn't how he liked it.
To dismiss the gesture entirely.
But instead—
His lips twitched.
Just barely.
"You remembered."
Her heart stumbled.
She blinked. "...What?"
He took another sip, tilting the cup slightly in his hand.
"Black. No sugar. No cream."
Her breath caught.
She hadn't even realized she had made it that way.
Hadn't realized she had paid attention to the way he drank his coffee at breakfast.
But she had.
She had noticed.
And so had he.
Something warm spread through her chest.
She didn't know what to say.
Didn't know how to break the moment hanging between them.
But before she could think of something—
Leonidas lowered the mug.
And then—
He reached out.
She barely had time to react before his fingers tilted her chin up.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Her breath caught.
She expected him to say something.
To tease her.
To demand answers.
But he didn't.
He just—looked at her.
Like she was something he was still figuring out.
Like she was something he wasn't sure he deserved.
And then, lower, softer—
"I didn't expect this from you."
Her throat felt tight.
Neither did she.
But here she was.
Standing in front of him.
Bringing him coffee.
Letting him touch her.
And not pulling away.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, finally, Leonidas exhaled.
His fingers dropped from her chin.
But the warmth of his touch lingered.
He took another slow sip of the coffee.
And then—with quiet finality—
"I liked waking up with you in my arms, Anastasia."
Her heart stopped.
Her breath hitched.
She didn't know what to say.
Didn't know how to respond.
Because something about the way he said it—so calmly, so deliberately, like a fact that wasn't up for debate—
Made it sound like it wouldn't be the last time.