Page 39 of Arranged with Twins
“Thanks. You look radiant yourself.” Nadia’s designer eye takes in my appearance with professional assessment. “Pregnancy suits you, even if you’re not showing yet.” She whispers the words so only I can hear them.
I glance around quickly to ensure no one overheard her comment. Leo’s jaw tightens, making me suspect he heard her quiet words. His protective instincts are triggered by any public reference to our secret.
“We should probably circulate.” I link my arm through Nadia’s, desperate to move away from potential eavesdroppers. “There are people Katherine expects us to charm.”
The next hour passes in a blur of introductions, small talk, and carefully choreographed social interactions. I smile at investors, make pleasant conversation with board members’ spouses, and deflect personal questions with practiced ease. Leo remains close throughout, a reassuring presence that makes the performance more bearable.
During a brief lull, I pull Nadia aside to a quiet corner, where tall floral arrangements provide some privacy from curious observers.
“How are you holding up?” She studies my face with the intensity she usually reserves for fabric quality. “You look tired.”
The admission comes out in a rush. “I haven’t told my parents yet about the pregnancy. Leo knows, but I’m not ready for Mother and Father to turn this into another opportunity for social engineering.”
Nadia nods understandingly. “Smart move. Once they know, they’ll want to control everything from prenatal vitamins tonursery décor. You’d be screwed. Or fucked, but isn’t that how we got here in the first place?”
I chuckle dryly. “Exactly.”
She smiles, and I glance across the room where Leo stands with a group of businessmen, his attention split between their conversation and monitoring my location. “He’s been surprisingly protective about keeping it all private.”
“Protective.” Nadia follows my stare, noting how Leo’s position allows him to watch both me and the room’s entrances simultaneously. “That’s one word for it. The man hasn’t taken his gaze off you all evening.”
“It’s about making sure I’m not acting out. I doubt it’s from a place of affection.” I try to sound dismissive, but uncertainty creeps into my voice. “He wants to manage the situation and protect his interests. That’s all.”
“Are you sure about that?” Her expression turns thoughtful. “That looks less like business management and more like a man who’s genuinely worried about someone he cares about.”
The suggestion makes my chest flutter with something I don’t want to examine too closely. Leo’s reaction to learning about the pregnancy was intense, yes, but interpreting it as emotional investment rather than strategic concern feels dangerous. “We should rejoin the party.” I smooth my dress unnecessarily, needing the distraction. “Mother will start looking for us soon.”
The orchestra strikes up a waltz as we return to the main floor, and couples gather for the evening’s first formal dance. Leo appears at my side without being summoned, extending his hand with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
“May I have this dance?” The request is courteous but unnecessary. We both know refusing isn’t an option.
I place my hand in his and allow him to guide me onto the polished marble floor. Other couples arrange themselves around us, but the ballroom feels smaller once we begin moving together. He leads with practiced skill, his hand firm at my waist as we navigate the familiar steps.
“You’ve been quiet tonight.” His voice is pitched low enough that only I can hear it. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m just thinking.” I follow his lead through a turn, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization despite the emotional distance we usually maintain. “Do you remember at breakfast, you said something about previously living only for duty?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, but something shifts in his expression. “What about it?”
“When did that start? The duty-only existence?” I look into his eyes, emboldened by the music and the intimacy of the dance. “Was it after your parents died, or before?”
“After.” The admission comes reluctantly. “Before, I had the luxury of believing in things like choice and personal happiness. After, survival became the only priority.”
The hint of old pain he lets slip surprises me. Leo rarely reveals anything personal, especially not in public settings where vulnerability could be interpreted as weakness. “I understand that.”
“You’ve lived only for duty?” He sounds faintly skeptical.
My confession comes easier than expected, with a touch of defensiveness. “I’ve never really chosen anything for myself. Notmy education, my career path, or this engagement. The closest I came to living my own life and making my own choices was when I was in London, but I dutifully trotted home when summoned. Everything has been decided based on what serves the family’s interests.”
“And now?” He guides us through another turn, his touch gentle despite the strength he possesses. “What would you choose if you could?”
The question forces me to think. “I don’t know. I’ve been someone else’s decision for so long that I’m not sure I remember how to want things for myself.”
The shared admission creates something fragile between us in recognition of mutual limitation that feels more intimate than our physical closeness. For these few minutes, the careful walls we’ve constructed around ourselves lower enough to allow a sincere connection.
“Maybe we can figure it out together.” Leo’s voice carries no pressure, just possibility. “It’d be nice if we could learn how to choose things because we want them, not because they serve someone else’s agenda.”
The suggestion makes my heart race with hope I’m afraid to trust. The idea of building something real with Leo based on choice rather than obligation feels both thrilling and terrifying.
