Signed In Ink, Sealed In Love

Leo didn't panic easily.

But when Aria didn't answer her phone the third time, something cold settled in his chest.

He checked the penthouse again.

Balcony.

Kitchen.

Hallway.

Nothing.

Her room was empty. Bed untouched.

He called once more.

Straight to voicemail.

His jaw tightened.

He stepped into his study and dialed a number he rarely used for personal reasons.

"I need her location," he said calmly.

There was no explanation needed.

Within minutes, a message came through.

A private bar downtown.

Leo didn't waste another second.

The drive felt longer than it should have.

His mind replayed the last conversation.

Do you miss me?

Yes.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Why couldn't she just let herself stay?

Why did she always run when things felt real?

The bar was dim and quiet.

He spotted her immediately.

She was at the counter, elbow resting on the polished wood, eyes unfocused.

A half-empty glass sat in front of her.

Another one already ordered.

His chest tightened.

He walked over slowly.

"Aria."

She blinked lazily.

Squinted.

"Oh," she murmured. "You found me."

He glanced at the bartender. "How much?"

"Enough," the man replied.

Leo exhaled.

He gently took the glass from her hand.

"I was drinking that," she protested weakly.

"You're done."

She frowned at him.

"You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Not tonight."

She tried to stand.

Nearly fell.

He caught her instantly.

Her hands landed on his chest.

Warm.

Unsteady.

"You're annoying," she mumbled.

"I know."

She looked up at him, eyes glassy but softer than they'd been in days.

"You always look so calm," she whispered. "It's unfair."

He didn't respond.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her out.

She didn't resist.

The ride back was quiet.

She leaned her head against the window at first.

Then slowly... she leaned toward him instead.

Her head rested against his shoulder.

He felt it.

Every inch of her warmth.

He didn't move.

Didn't push her away.

Didn't comment.

He just drove.

When they arrived, he didn't take her toward her room.

Her mother's room was down the hall.

The last thing he wanted was questions.

So he carried her toward his bedroom.

She was half-asleep by then.

He laid her gently on the edge of his bed.

She blinked up at him.

"You smell nice," she muttered.

He almost laughed.

"You're drunk."

"No, I'm brave," she corrected lazily.

He knelt slightly in front of her.

"You scared me."

She tilted her head.

"Why?"

"Because you disappear when things get hard."

Her expression flickered.

For a second-

Clarity returned.

"I disappear," she whispered, "because I don't know how to stay."

That hit deeper than anything she'd said sober.

He reached for a glass of water and held it to her lips.

"Drink."

She obeyed quietly this time.

A few seconds passed.

Then she looked at him again.

Really looked at him.

Her fingers reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"I love you," she said.

The room went still.

Her voice wasn't loud.

Wasn't dramatic.

It was small.

Honest.

Unfiltered.

He froze.

Her grip tightened.

"I love you and I hate it," she continued softly. "I hate that I love you because your world is sharp and shiny and I don't belong in it."

His chest tightened painfully.

"You belong wherever I am."

She shook her head weakly.

"They'll crush me," she whispered. "And you'll have to choose."

"I already chose."

"You say that now," she breathed.

Then suddenly her face twisted.

She turned quickly.

He reacted instantly, guiding her toward the bathroom.

He held her hair back.

Stayed steady.

Waited.

When she finished, he grabbed a towel and wiped her face gently.

"You're a mess," he murmured softly.

She gave a tired half-smile.

"You still came."

"Of course I came."

He helped her rinse her mouth.

Then carefully helped her out of her heels.

Her dress was slightly stained from the bar.

He hesitated for only a second before grabbing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft lounge pants.

"I'm helping you change," he said quietly.

She nodded faintly, too exhausted to argue.

He turned his back while she slipped out of the dress as much as she could on her own, helping only when necessary and keeping his movements respectful, steady, careful.

No hesitation.

No crossing lines.

Just care.

Once she was dressed in his clothes, she looked impossibly small.

He guided her back to the bed.

She collapsed onto it instantly.

He pulled the blanket over her.

He should have left.

He knew he should have.

But when he turned-

Her hand grabbed his wrist.

"Stay," she whispered.

His heart gave in before his pride could argue.

He lay down beside her.

She immediately curled toward him.

Instinctively.

Her arm draped over his waist.

Her head resting on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her carefully.

Firmly.

Like if he loosened his hold, she'd disappear again.

"I'm not letting you run," he whispered into her hair.

She was already asleep.

Morning came harsh.

Aria groaned before even opening her eyes.

Her head throbbed.

Her mouth felt dry.

She shifted slightly-

And froze.

Warmth.

Solid.

Breathing.

Her eyes opened slowly.

She was lying on Leo's chest.

His arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Her body tensed instantly.

She tried to lift her head.

Pain shot through her skull.

"Don't," his voice came quietly.

He was awake.

She swallowed.

"What happened?"

"You drank too much."

Fragments of memory flickered.

The bar.

Him walking in.

The car.

Her face burned.

"Oh my God."

She tried to sit up.

His arm tightened.

Not painfully.

But firmly.

"Leo," she said, flustered. "I need to go."

"No."

Her heart skipped.

"No?"

He looked down at her now.

Fully awake.

Serious.

"You don't get to confess drunk and then run sober."

Her stomach dropped.

"I didn't-"

"You did."

Silence.

Her pulse pounded louder than her headache.

"I was drunk."

"You were honest."

"That's not fair."

"Neither is pretending you don't feel anything."

She finally managed to sit up slightly, though his arm remained around her waist.

"You can't use what I said against me."

"I'm not using it against you."

"Then what are you doing?"

His eyes softened slightly.

"I'm holding you here so you stop running long enough to face it."

Her throat tightened.

"I don't want to fight your family forever."

"Then fight with me."

She shook her head weakly.

"You don't understand how exhausting that will be."

"Do you understand how exhausting it is to watch you push me away?"

Silence filled the room.

Heavy.

Honest.

His grip loosened slightly.

Not letting go.

But giving her space to choose.

"Look at me," he said quietly.

She did.

Red eyes.

Messy hair.

Bare vulnerability.

"Tell me you don't love me," he said.

Her lips parted.

But no words came out.

Because she couldn't.

And they both knew it.