The penthouse was as quiet as a tomb the next morning, but the air buzzed with unresolved conflict. Since last night at the restaurant, I hadn't talked to Noah, so I wasn't sure whether I would be irritated by the silence or appreciative of it.
His involvement with Markus stayed with me as a tempest of contradictory feelings. One might say that having him there when I needed him brought relief. Conversely, his austere style and mysterious techniques just heightened my doubts that this arrangement was significantly more complex than I had thought.
I sat on the stool at the kitchen island after pouring myself a cup of coffee and idly leafed through emails. Right now, the only thing I could control was work; the one area my choices felt like mine.
The stillness was broken just as I started writing a response to a customer by the sound of approaching feet. Noah showed up in the doorway, just changed in a custom suit, his normal armour of calm firmly in place.
"We have to talk," he added without preface.
Dryly, without glancing up from my laptop, "Good morning to you too."
"I'm serious, Isla. His voice was sharp now, demanding my attention."
I sighed, closed the laptop, then looked back at him stern. About what?''
"Markus won't be a problem anymore," he added, crossing the room and resting on the counter across from me last night.
I was offended by his assurance. And just how did you guarantee that? „
His lips slid into a narrow line. I spoke with him about it. Made it quite clear that coming near you once again would have repercussions.
"Let me speculate—yet another power play? I snapped, my irritation boiling up. "You cannot keep Noah under control everywhere."
His eyes darkened. This has nothing to do with control. It relates to keeping you safe.
" Safe?" I echoed, incredulous." You hardly even asked me what I wanted. You arrived like some self-appointed rescuer, swooping.
"I didn't have to ask," he fired back. "You believe I should be sitting by allowing someone like him to torment you?"
His aggressiveness surprised me, but I didn't back down. "You have no say as to what would be best for Noah. My life is what it is.
"And you are my wife," he added, his voice steady and quiet. That signifies something regardless of your inclination.
The strain stayed between us as Noah looked at his watch. We are departing in one hour.
"Leaving?" I scowled." For what?''
"I have a meeting at the Blackwood Foundation headquarters. You come with me.
Startled, I fixed my gaze on him. When should I show up for your company meetings?"
"Since now," he replied with ease. "Look, remember? You are a part of this.
Though I wanted to fight, telling him to go alone and leave me out of it, something about his tone made no sense for bargaining. I sighed frustratedly, pushed by him into my room to get dressed.
The vehicle trip to the foundation headquarters was very silent. Noah looked out the window, his demeanour unusually detached, instead of being fixed on his phone, ordering instructions to his empire.
Penny for your ideas? I broke the quiet with a question.
He looked at me, his mask sliding for a brief instant. "Just considering the gala that comes next week."
I groaned. "That's the reason you seem so unfocused. "
His tone sharpened, "It's not just a gala." "This is a board fundraising that shapes the following year's foundation project direction. Lots of riding depends on it.
Surprised by the weight in his voice, I examined him. For someone who seemed to approach life with chilly detachment, this was obviously important.
The vehicle drew up to the Blackwood Foundation's tall glass structure before I could push on.
The foundation offices were a study in contemporary opulence—sleek, open areas bathed in sunshine and the buzz of calm labour. Noah walked across the corridor with easy power, his presence demanding attention.
Feeling out of place until we got to the meeting room, I followed behind Several board members welcomed Noah inside with courteous grins, but one member caught my attention: a gorgeous brunette with obvious confidence and familiarity.
She murmured kindly, "Noah," and stepped up to hug him.
"Selene," he said, his voice softening just slightly.
I stopped because seeing them together set off an illogical jealously. Selene was polished, calm, and obviously someone fit for Noah's environment.
"And this must be Isla," Selene remarked, glancing sharply at me.
Indeed, Noah answered, his voice calm. My wife.
Though the words were empty, practiced, they nonetheless cause my heart to trip.
The conference started, and I found myself silently seated by Noah's side nodding along while conversations about donor connections, money, and predictions whirled about.
Selene's presence was compelling; her natural interaction with Noah and the board members highlighted exactly how inappropriate I felt.
She slanted towards Noah at one point, her words quiet but clear enough for me to hear. You could have informed me you were bringing her. I may have changed the agenda.
Noah showed no flinch. "She is now part of this."
My skin started to tingle from their subdued tension.
Selene smiled at me after the conference, not quite reaching her eyes. "It was good meeting you, Isla. I wish we would see more of you attending these gatherings.
I faked a grace that was nice. " Likewise."
I looked to Noah as she left, boiling over with anger. "Who is she??"("")
She oversees the foundation, he replied simply.
And thus? I pushed, not ready to let him sidestep the enquiry.
And nothing, he continued, his voice chilly. "We have years of cooperation here."
His evasiveness in tone only made me more annoyed.
The trip home was strained, the quiet between us more than usual. I spun on him the instant the door closed when we at last arrived at the apartment.
"Are you going to find out from her exactly what is happening? Demand was what I wanted.
Noah groaned and ran a hand over his hair. Isla, there is nothing to tell.
"Don't lie to me," I said sharply. Unless there is history, you do not allow somebody get that close.
His eyes sharpened, yet there was a flutter of something else regret. One is guilt. "She's an old friend." That sums up everything.
I observed him, my fury conflicted with something gentler. Underneath all his defences and barricades, there was something delicate he was anxious to guard.
But he turned away, heading back to his office, leaving me alone in the large cavernous area before I could press on.
I dropped into the couch, my head whirling with unresolved questions. Noah's flawless façade was cracking more widely, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to explore what lay behind.
Real Noah Blackwood was someone else. And could I manage the truth when it at last emerged?