Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO-Chapter 71: Frenemies

OLIVER KING

I should have known Vanessa wouldn’t let this go.

One second, I was safely tucked against the wall, nursing my whiskey and pretending not to stare at Leo Annison like some lovesick idiot. The next, Vanessa’s fingers were digging into my wrist, dragging me forward.

"Vanessa—" I hissed, but she cut me off with a glare sharp enough to flay skin.

"Shut up and walk," she muttered, her grip unrelenting.

I could have pulled away. I should have. But the closer we got to Leo, the harder it was to remember why that was a good idea. He stood near the grand piano, surrounded by people fawning over him. He was magnetic—tall, handsome, stubborn. Whew. My heart was doing flips just getting within three feet of the man.

Vanessa stopped just short of him, flashed a smile so sweet it was terrifying, and then—traitor that she was—dropped my arm and walked away.

I stood there, frozen, like a deer in the crosshairs of a very attractive, very dangerous hunter.

Leo turned. His eyes—dark, sharp, the kind that saw too much—landed on me.

Fuck.

"Oliver King," he said, voice smooth as the whiskey I was no longer holding. (I’d set it down somewhere. When? Why? My brain had short-circuited.) "I was wondering how long you’d keep lurking in the shadows."

I forced a grin, the one that usually got me out of trouble and into beds. "Not lurking. Strategically observing. There’s a difference."

Leo’s lips quirked. "And what, exactly, were you observing?"

You. Always you.

"The structural integrity of the champagne flutes," I said instead. "They look fragile. It’s concerning."

He laughed, low and warm, and my chest tightened. His gaze flicked over my shoulder, scanning the room in a way that felt automatic, habitual. Like he was checking for threats.

Considering we’d gotten kidnapped together, all so he could draw in his enemies and vanquish them, it wasn’t surprising he looked for bad guys no matter where he was.

I wondered ... did Leo ever feel safe?

"Expecting someone?" I asked lightly.

Leo’s expression shuttered. "Just being cautious."

His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was stopping himself from reaching for me. Or was that hope on my part? I took a step closer. He didn’t move away.

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

"You know," I murmured, "if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked."

Leo’s jaw tightened. "I have enemies, Oliver." The words were sharp, quiet, meant only for me. "People who wouldn’t think twice about hurting someone I—" He cut himself off.

Someone I care about.

I should have backed off. Should have made a joke, walked away, pretended this wasn’t anything more than idle flirting.

Instead, I closed the last bit of distance between us, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, close enough to feel the heat of him.

"Then I guess it’s a good thing I can take care of myself," I said softly.

Leo’s breath hitched. For a second, I thought he might kiss me. Right there in the Belmont living room underneath the crystal chandelier.

Then—

A glass shattered somewhere behind us. Leo’s entire body went rigid, his hand snapping out to grip my wrist, and put himself in front of me. His eyes were locked on the far side of the room, where a waiter was apologizing profusely to a scowling guest.

Just an accident. Nothing more.

But Leo didn’t relax.

His thumb brushed over my pulse point, just once, before he let go.

"Leo!" A deep male voice cut through the air. A man in a tailored pin striped suit approached, his expression cold. "We need to talk."

Leo’s posture shifted instantly, the warmth in his eyes freezing over. "Later."

The man’s gaze flicked to me, dismissive. "Now."

I expected Leo to cave. To nod, to walk away, to do what was expected of him.

Instead, he smiled and said, "You’re interrupting, Charles."

Charles’s mouth thinned. "Is he your new lover?"

"None of your business." He turned back to me, ignoring the other man entirely. "Dance with me."

The music swelled as he pulled me toward the center of the room. Charles disappeared into the crowd, but not before shooting me a look that promised trouble.

I didn’t care.

Leo’s hand settled on my hip, warm and sure. "You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?" he murmured.

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "Oh, absolutely."

Leo’s hand was firm on my waist, his grip just tight enough to make my pulse kick up. The music was something slow and classical, the kind of thing people in our circle played at parties to remind everyone they had taste. Normally, I’d have made a joke about it but right now, I was too busy trying not to trip over my own feet.

Because Leo Annison was dancing with me.

And not the polite, detached kind of dancing. No, his body was close, his breath warm against my temple, his fingers tracing idle circles on the small of my back like he was mapping my body.

I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze. "Are you planning to sweep me off my feet and whisk me away from all this?"

His smirk was infuriating. "Would you like me to?"

I opened my mouth to fire back something clever, but then his hand slid lower, just a fraction, and my brain short-circuited.

Damn him.

I recovered quickly. "Careful, Annison. People are staring."

Leo didn’t even glance their way. "Let them."

His voice was low, rough around the edges, and that was so hot my stomach filled with 1,000 electric butterflies.

His thumb pressed into my hip.

I was this close to dragging him into the nearest dark corner when guess who decided to pop up again.

"Well, isn’t this adorable."

We broke apart just enough to see Charles—Leo’s friend from earlier—leaning against a pillar.

Leo’s grip on me tightened. "What do you want?"

Charles ignored him, his gaze sliding to me instead. "Oliver, right? I’ve heard so much about you."

I arched a brow. "All good things, I hope."

He took a sip of his drink, eyes glinting. "Do you always flirt with men who could ruin you?"

Leo stepped forward, his voice a warning. "Charles."

I held up a hand. "No, no, I’ve got this." I turned back to Charles, smiling sweetly. "Do you always interrupt private conversations like a jealous ex?"

Leo coughed—badly disguising a laugh—and Charles’s expression darkened.

"Cute." He straightened, adjusting his cuffs. "Just remember, Oliver—Leo’s world isn’t kind to strays."

And with that, he walked away.

I whistled. "Wow. He’s really bad at subtlety."

Leo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry about that."

"Don’t be." I nudged him with my shoulder. "I’ve dealt with worse."

Leo studied me for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. "We can’t get involved, Ollie."

"Don’t be such a Debby Downer."

The music shifted, something faster, livelier. Leo groaned. "God, I hate this song."

"Dance with me anyway." I didn’t give him a chance to argue—just grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd, laughing as he stumbled after me. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

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LEONARDO ANNISON

The moment Oliver’s fingers closed around mine, I knew I was in trouble.

He was reckless. Bright. A wildfire in a room full of people who only knew how to smolder. And yet, here I was, letting him drag me into the center of the dance floor like some lovestruck fool.

This is a mistake.

The thought was automatic, ingrained. I had enemies—men who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt anyone I loved. And Oliver? He was a weakness I couldn’t afford.

But then he turned, grinning up at me with that infuriating, irresistible charm, and my resolve cracked.

The music was too fast, the beat thrumming through the room. Oliver moved with it effortlessly, his body achingly close to mine. Every shift, every step, was a question—one I was dangerously close to answering.

I could feel the weight of stares on us. Charles’s warning still lingered in the back of my mind. What did Ollie think? Had he taken Charles’ words to heart?

Ollie spun, pressing his back against my chest, and my jaw clenched. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. And yet—

My hand slid around his waist, pulling him flush against me. His pulse jumped under my fingers, rapid and alive.

"You’re playing with fire," I warned, my voice rough.

Oliver tilted his head, just enough to meet my gaze over his shoulder. "Good thing I don’t burn easy."

Damn him.

I should put distance between us before this attraction spiraled out of control. But then the music shifted again, something slower, darker, and Oliver turned in my arms, his fingers curling into the front of my shirt.

His eyes were bright, reckless, alive.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t care who was watching.

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