CHAPTER 171: CHAPTER 171 REBELLIOUS

His jaw flexed sharply, that familiar tick twitching near his cheekbone. Without saying a word, Leonardo stood up from the couch and slowly walked toward her, every step heavy, deliberate.

The quiet thud of his shoes on the floor sounded louder in the silence between them. Bella’s breath caught in her throat as she instinctively stepped back—just slightly but her feet refused to move further. Her heart skipped and fluttered like a moth trapped in a glass jar.

Those storm-gray eyes... they weren’t just cold now–they were smoldering. Controlled, barely, but full of something raw. The way he looked at her made her forget where she was. The way his gaze traveled over her dress—this one, the most daring of all—felt like heat brushing across her bare skin. The slit ran too high, the neckline dipped too low, and he was seeing all of it.

He stopped in front of her, too close. Too close for her brain to work.

"Are you trying to test my patience?" His voice was a low rasp, the kind that rolled from his chest and curled around her like smoke.

Bella blinked up at him, lips parted. "You said to try something longer," she said, innocently. "This is longer than the last one."

His eyes narrowed, dangerously. "You know exactly what I meant."

She tilted her head sweetly, biting her bottom lip like she didn’t just light a match between them. "Do I?"

He let out a harsh breath, turning his face slightly as he ran a hand down his mouth and jaw. His fingers briefly dragged through his hair. He looked like a man trying very hard not to do something reckless.

"Go. Change," he said again, this time more guttural, like the words scraped his throat on the way out.

But Bella didn’t move.

"I like this one," she said softly, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "I’m keeping it."

That did it.

In a blur of movement, his hand caught her wrist. Before she could blink, the world spun. Suddenly, she was inside the dressing room, and the curtain rustled softly as it closed.

Her eyes widened in shock, her voice caught in her throat. "W-W-What are you—?"

Leonardo didn’t speak.

He turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable but his body full of tension. His tall frame blocked most of the dim light filtering through the gap in the curtain, and the tiny space around them was suddenly thick with his scent—musk, spice, something expensive and dark and uniquely him.

He stepped closer.

And closer.

Bella backed up until her spine met the wall behind her, her hands clutching the side seam of her dress. Her voice came out breathless. "Leo..."

His eyes flicked down to the slit in her dress. His hand—large, warm, calloused—lifted slowly, his fingers grazing just above her knee.

Bella gasped.

Her hand flew to his, stopping him. Her eyes searched his, wide with disbelief and something else.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear herself.

Leonardo leaned in closer, caging her in with one hand on the wall beside her head. His breath ghosted her cheek.

"I should be the one asking that," he murmured. His voice was low, steady, but barely restrained. "What exactly are you trying to prove, wearing this in front of everyone?"

Bella tried to speak. Tried to say she wasn’t doing anything wrong. But the words melted on her tongue.

Because in that moment, with his body so close, and her hands still gripping his, she forgot every excuse she’d thought of.

She wasn’t sure what came next.

"I-I like this dress," Bella stammered, her voice barely more than a breath. Her back was still pressed against the cool wall of the dressing room, and she could feel the heat radiating off Leonardo’s body like a second skin.

He didn’t move back. Instead, his eyes—dark and dangerous—held hers with an intensity that made her knees threaten to buckle.

"Really?" he murmured, and Bella could feel his breath on her lips. Then slowly, almost lazily, the hand he had pressed against the wall above her head slid downward—his fingers finding a soft curl of her long brown hair.

He twirled it between his fingers, wrapping it around once, twice, tugging lightly. Her breath hitched. Bella didn’t know why he was playing with her hair like that—teasing, gentle, but so deliberate it made her heart feel like it was pounding in her throat.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find words. So she nodded, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide. Her heart was screaming, but she stood frozen in place, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world he saw.

The silence stretched. His thumb brushed the side of her neck so lightly it sent a wave of shivers down her spine.

"You like this dress," he repeated, low and quiet, almost as if he was tasting the words. "Then why do I feel like you’re wearing it just to punish me?" His voice was husky, slow, dripping with heat. And Bella—completely disarmed, entirely flushed—could only stare up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She had no idea how to answer. Not when he looked at her like that. Not when every inch of space between them was pulled so tight with tension it could snap at the smallest movement.

"Or are you just trying to be rebellious with me... hmm?" His voice was low—too low. It brushed against her skin like smoke, dark and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Bella’s eyes widened. She had been caught and worse, he could see straight through her. Her lips parted slightly, guilty and breathless, but she still shook her head quickly.

"I... didn’t," she muttered, barely audible.

A dangerous smile curved his lips.

"Lie."

Before she could respond, he shifted. The chair creaked as he sat down in front of the mirror, his tall frame making the space look too small for someone like him. He spread his legs slightly and leaned back, eyes lazily locked on her. Then, without blinking, he patted his thigh.

"Come here."

Bella’s face turned bright red. Her pulse jumped. She shook her head stubbornly. "No."

His expression changed. The warmth faded from his eyes, and a colder glint appeared.

"Come here," he warned, voice rough and dark, "or I’ll burn your plushies."