You don’t know what kind of man he really is.

To you, he’s just Leon—the devastatingly handsome older man who waits for you outside work every evening, leaning against his sleek black car like he has all the time in the world. His eyes, dark and knowing, track your every move the moment you step outside, his lips curving into that slow, indulgent smile that makes your stomach flip.

He always opens the door for you, his touch lingering just a second too long as you slide inside. He smells like expensive cologne and something deeper, something dangerous, but you don’t recognize it for what it is.

To you, he’s just Leon. The man who adores you. The man who looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

You have no idea what he’s done to keep you safe. No idea how many people have learned the hard way that you belong to him.