Inside her bedroom, Leanna gathered every strip of fabric and length of cloth she could find, knotting them tightly together until they formed a rope. With cautious movements, she lowered it from the window and began climbing down.
Determination hardened her features as she ground her teeth together. No matter the cost, she would make Carl and Lucy pay for everything. Those two shameless bastards would not escape what they had done!
All at once, a name surfaced in her mind like a sudden flicker.
Ian Spencer.
As Carl's uncle and the real power behind the Spencer family, Ian held the authority everyone else answered to.
Gaining his protection might be the only path left open to her.
Drawing in a measured breath, Leanna forced herself to ignore the stabbing pain in her ankle and picked up her phone to contact a private detective.
...
Five days later, the Spencer Group's press conference buzzed with reporters and flashing cameras. Using her college-issued press card as cover, Leanna slipped quietly into the venue unnoticed.
In the backstage area, a man sat alone beneath the muted lights, his posture rigid, his silhouette radiating a cold, commanding presence.
She immediately assumed it must be Ian.
Drawing in a slow breath, Leanna steadied her racing heart and stepped closer.
From the chair, Wesley Stewart lifted his head, his eyes narrowing with quiet intensity as they fixed on her. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm..." Words caught in her throat for a split second as her mind raced through possibilities.
Admitting who she really was would likely result in being dragged straight back to Wheeler Mansion. Instead, she chose to gamble—trusting that he probably didn't recognize Carl's fiancee and might at least be curious about a stranger bold enough to approach him.
Lifting her chin, Leanna met his sharp, assessing gaze and forced a faint, reckless smile, the expression of someone who had already run out of options. "I heard your family's been pressuring you to settle down," she said, her voice even. "And from what I know, you're still single. So… I'd like to be your girlfriend."
Wesley's eyes betrayed a moment of surprise, though his voice remained completely composed. "And what exactly makes you think I'd agree to something like that?"
Clenching her teeth, Leanna forced herself to hold his gaze. "Because I'm bold enough to ask."
"Bold, huh?" A low, amused laugh slipped from him as he rose from his chair. "And you think that's supposed to impress me?"
Before he could walk away, Leanna reacted on instinct.
She lunged forward and caught hold of his sleeve. When he turned back in mild surprise, she rose onto her toes, looped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips against his.
The kiss was awkward, reckless, and completely unpolished, like a gamble made without thinking.
Almost immediately, she pulled away. Composure snapped back over her features as she forced a calm smile and asked, "Well? Am I bold enough for you now?"
Wesley studied her quietly. Beneath that forced confidence, the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her nerves. His gaze darkened slightly, and his Adam's apple shifted as he swallowed. "You want to be my girlfriend?" he said at last. "Fine. But before that, let's see whether you're capable of… living up to my standards."
...
Inside the hotel room, the air felt unusually still.
A faint tremor ran through Leanna's fingertips while Wesley casually motioned toward the bed.
"Come here," he murmured, his voice rough and low.
From across the room, he observed her slow, uncertain steps, amusement flickering quietly in his piercing eyes—so shy, yet audacious enough to stand there and claim she was fearless.
Without warning, he reached out and tugged her closer, pulling Leanna straight into his arms as her startled gaze lifted to meet his.
Instantly, the space between them thickened with a charged, breathless tension.
Pressed against him, Leanna felt the unmistakable change in his body beneath her, and heat rushed to her face before she could hide it.
A low laugh slipped from Wesley's chest, his tone deep and teasing. "Didn't you say you were bold enough? You said you wanted to be my girlfriend. Is this the best you can do?"
A stubborn spark flared in Leanna's eyes as she tightened her jaw, forcing herself not to retreat.
Slowly, she lifted trembling fingers to Wesley's shirt, trying to work the buttons loose, yet her unsteady hands fumbled helplessly, taking what felt like forever just to ease open the first one.
Across from her, Wesley watched in silence, his gaze heavy and unwavering.
Her hands skimmed over the firm warmth of his chest, and though her movements were hesitant and clumsy, the faint touch still stirred a fierce, restless heat inside him.
After struggling for what felt like ages, she finally succeeded in slipping the first button free.
Wesley's fingers tilted her chin upward, his thumb brushing slowly over her lips before he bent down and claimed them in a deep, lingering kiss.
When he pushed inside her, she tensed at the dryness, but before long she opened up to him and her soft moans began to echo through the room.
Never in her wildest thoughts had Leanna imagined his dick would be so overwhelming.
Eyes fluttering shut, she surrendered to the rising waves of sensation, quiet, rhythmic murmurs of pleasure escaping her.
Clamping her teeth gently against her lower lip, she tried to keep quiet, yet the tension between them felt like an unspoken contest neither of them intended to lose.
Gradually, the room grew heavy with their stifled moans until the pressure finally broke through her restraint and a helpless cry of pleasure escaped her throat.
Breathing hard, Wesley bent over her, his chest rising and falling as his eyes studied every shift of expression across her flushed face.
"What's your name?" he asked, his voice rough with lingering breath.
"Leanna Wheeler..." She managed to say, the words leaving her lips with visible effort.
"So you're Emilio Wheeler's daughter?"
"That's right," she admitted, a thread of nervousness slipping into her voice.
Since she still believed him to be Ian, unease crept into her thoughts, and she couldn't help worrying that he might prove just as calculating and cold as Carl—if that turned out to be true, she had no idea what she would do next.