Chapter 4: The Rules Keep Changing

Aspen didn’t like unfinished conversations.

She built her empire by making quick, decisive choices. Cut-and-dry solutions. No hesitation, no emotional loose ends.

But Leo Moreno?

He was an open-ended question she couldn’t stop coming back to.

And the way he was looking at her now like he wanted to say something but wouldn’t was only making things worse.

“If you don’t want me here, just say so,” she challenged.

Leo exhaled, resting his hands on the counter. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

Leo studied her for a moment like he was debating whether or not to tell her the truth. Then he shook his head.

“You’re used to people bending for you, Aspen,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “People making room for you because of who you are—not who you are as a person, but because of what you own, what you can do for them.”

Aspen’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t wrong, but hearing it out loud still stung.

Leo continued, “I don’t work like that. I don’t care about your money, your name, or your business deals. So, yeah, you come in here every day, trying to push past a line I already drew? It’s messing with my head.”

Aspen didn’t break eye contact. “And yet, you still haven’t told me to stop.”

Leo’s jaw twitched.

Because she was right.

The line between them had been drawn the moment she first offered to pay his mother’s hospital bill. But neither of them had stepped away from it. If anything, they kept inching closer.

Too close.

Leo ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Jesus.”

Aspen smirked. “That’s not an answer.”

Leo’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You don’t know how to quit, do you?”

Aspen picked up her coffee. “Not in my nature.”

Leo exhaled. “Yeah. Figured.”

And just like that, the tension shifted.

It wasn’t gone no, it was still there, humming beneath the surface but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been before.

They weren’t done talking about this.

Not even close.

Aspen didn’t leave right away.

She should have.

She had a full schedule waiting for her calls, meetings, and people expecting her to be anywhere but here.

But instead, she stayed.

She watched Leo move behind the counter, watched the way he rolled up his sleeves as he worked. She’d never given much thought to hands before, but his? They were strong, steady hands that had built things, hands that had worked for everything they had.

Nothing like the men in her world.

Men like Blake, who had inherited their wealth, threw money at problems instead of solving them.

Aspen didn’t realize she was staring until Leo shot her a look.

Leo glanced up just in time to catch her staring.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable amusement, curiosity, maybe something deeper but he didn’t call her out on it.

Instead, he smirked. “You know, for someone who claims to just be here for the coffee, you do a lot of watching.”

Aspen tilted her head, unfazed. “Maybe you’re just interesting to watch.”

Leo chuckled, shaking his head as he wiped down the counter. “Dangerous thing to say to a guy you barely know, princess.”

Aspen sipped her drink. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Leo paused for half a second, his fingers tightening around the towel in his hands.

It was subtle. Barely noticeable.

But Aspen saw it.

And suddenly, the air between them felt heavier.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them spoke.

For a moment, it was just the hum of the espresso machine, the low murmur of customers in the background, and the unspoken truth settling between them like a loaded gun.

Whatever this was was becoming dangerous.

And Aspen Carter didn’t do dangerous.

Not when it came to feelings.

Before either of them could break the silence, the café door swung open, and Jordan Moreno walked in.

Leo visibly relaxed, as if her presence had snapped him out of whatever moment they’d just been having.

Jordan, on the other hand, took one look at Aspen and groaned.

“Oh, you again.”

Aspen smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “You say that like you’re not thrilled to see me.”

Jordan crossed her arms. “I say that like I don’t understand why a literal billionaire keeps slumming it in my brother’s café instead of running her empire.”

Leo muttered, “Jordan,” in warning, but Aspen just laughed.

“I like the coffee,” she said simply.

Jordan arched an eyebrow. “Right. And it has nothing to do with my brother?”

Aspen took a slow sip of her drink, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Jordan shift uncomfortably.

Then she smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leo groaned. “Oh my god.”

Jordan narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re letting this happen?”

Leo ran a hand over his face. “I don’t think letting is the right word.”

Aspen just smirked.

Because for all his protests, Leo wasn’t stopping her from coming back.

And they both knew it.

Jordan muttered something about “wasting time” and disappeared into the back, leaving Aspen and Leo alone again.

Aspen tapped her nails against

Aspen tapped her nails against the counter, watching Leo like he was a puzzle she hadn’t quite solved yet.

“So,” she said, dragging out the word, “are you going to tell me what your problem with me is, or are we going to keep pretending it’s just about the money?”

Leo exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You don’t let things go, do you?”

“Not really,” she admitted, unbothered.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “You want the truth, princess?”

“Always.”

Leo studied her for a moment like he was debating whether or not to give her the real answer. Then, finally, he sighed.

“You make things… complicated.”

Aspen arched an eyebrow. “Me? Complicated?”

Leo gave her a flat look. “You walk in here every day, acting like this is normal like there’s nothing weird about a billionaire hanging out in a Brooklyn café like it’s her new hobby. You offer to throw money at problems that aren’t yours to fix. And the worst part?”

He hesitated.

Aspen leaned in slightly. “What’s the worst part?”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “You don’t feel like a billionaire.”

Aspen blinked, caught off guard. “That’s a problem?”

“It should be,” he muttered. “But it’s not.”

For the first time, Aspen didn’t have a quick, clever response.

Because she knew what he meant.

She felt it, too.

With Leo, the lines that usually defined her world power, wealth, and control didn’t seem to apply. He treated her like she was just Aspen, not the CEO of Vyre, not the girl who had built an empire before she turned twenty-five.

And that was dangerous.

Because if she wasn’t careful, she might start liking it.

Too much.

Aspen cleared her throat, pushing away whatever that moment had been.

“All right,” she said, standing up straighter. “Let’s make a deal.”

Leo gave her a wary look. “I don’t make deals with billionaires.”

She smirked. “You’ll like this one.”

He sighed. “Go on.”

“I’ll stop offering to solve your problems with money,” she said. “If you let me see your art.”

Leo blinked. “What?”

Aspen smirked, arms crossing over her chest. “You heard me. Show me your art, and I’ll stop offering to fix your problems.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Aspen shrugged, but something was calculating in her gaze. “Because I don’t think you’re just some barista trying to make rent. I think you have talent, but you’re too damn stubborn to do anything with it.”

Leo let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “And you think you a woman who lives in penthouses and boardrooms have any say in what I do with my art?”

“I think I have eyes,” Aspen shot back. “And if your art is as good as you act like it is, then why is it sitting in some apartment instead of a gallery?”

Leo stiffened.

She hit a nerve.

For the first time, his usual cool, unaffected demeanor cracked just slightly, and Aspen saw something beneath it something raw.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Then help me get it.”

Leo exhaled, running a hand over his face. “Why do you even care?”

Aspen tilted her head, watching him closely. “Because you’re the first person I’ve met in a long time who doesn’t give a damn about my money. And I want to know why.”

Leo didn’t respond right away.

She could tell he was debating, weighing something in his head.

Finally, after a long pause, he sighed.

“One time.”

Aspen’s lips curved into a slow smile. “So that’s a yes?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Leo didn’t take Aspen to his place that night.

Instead, he made her wait.

Three days passed before she got a text just an address and a time. No explanation.

Aspen didn’t hesitate.

She had spent the past three days pretending she wasn’t waiting for something, pretending she wasn’t checking her phone more than usual.

But now, standing outside the address Leo had sent her, she felt something she wasn’t used to feeling.

Anticipation.

The building was old but well-kept, tucked between a row of brick storefronts in Brooklyn. When she stepped inside, the air smelled of paint and turpentine, of something real.

And then she saw them.

The paintings.

Large canvases leaned against the walls, some half-finished, others completed. There were abstracts with bold, angry strokes, portraits with haunting

Aspen had seen expensive art before.

She had walked through private galleries and attended auctions where collectors spent millions on pieces they didn’t even care about. She had seen paintings that were technically perfect but completely soulless.

Leo’s art?

It had a soul.

It was raw. Emotional. A mess of bold, chaotic colors and dark, expressive lines. Some pieces looked like they had been created in a fit of frustration, while others had an almost painful precision to them.

And the portraits…

They were alive.

Faces that seemed to stare back at her, full of feeling. Some were blurred at the edges, like memories slipping away. Others were sharp, and detailed, like the person on the canvas could step forward at any moment.

For the first time in a long time, Aspen was speechless.

Leo watched her carefully. His arms were crossed, his stance guarded, like he was waiting for her to say something that would confirm all his worst assumptions about her.

But Aspen didn’t have some rehearsed, polished response.

All she had was the truth.

“…Holy shit.”

Leo let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Not what I expected you to say.”

Aspen turned, eyes still scanning the canvases around her. “What did you expect?”

He shrugged. “Something condescending. Some billionaires critique about how it’s ‘rough around the edges’ or ‘not commercial enough.’”

Aspen scoffed. “Leo, I run a tech empire, not an art gallery. What the hell do I know about commercial value?”

Leo studied her like he was trying to decide whether or not she was messing with him. “Then what do you see?”

Aspen hesitated, looking back at the pieces.

She could have given him some generic answer, something safe. But she didn’t.

Instead, she walked up to one of the canvases a portrait.

It wasn’t a traditional portrait. The lines were loose and expressive, but the emotion in the figure’s eyes was unmistakable.

Aspen swallowed. “It feels… honest.”

Leo’s posture shifted slightly.

Aspen turned back to him. “Why aren’t you showing this?”

Leo let out a breath. “Because the art world isn’t built for people like me.”

Aspen tilted her head. “You mean people who don’t have connections?”

“I mean people who don’t have money,” Leo corrected. “Do you know how hard it is to get into a gallery without backing? Without some rich patron who wants to slap their name on your success?”

Aspen thought about the collectors she’d met over the years. The way they talked about art as investments instead of stories.

She exhaled. “Yeah. I do.”

Leo watched her for a long moment. “So? Are you about to offer to fix that too?”

Aspen smiled slightly. “No. You’d just say no.”

Leo smirked. “You’re finally learning.”

But then Aspen took a step closer, crossing her arms. “I will say this, though. You’re an idiot if you don’t at least try.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest?”

Aspen’s eyes gleamed. “Let me introduce you to someone.”

Leo exhaled, shaking his head. “Here we go.”