Chapter 21
Noel
The Stargazer Hotel
The moment we step into the Stargazer’s grand lobby, I get hit with two things.
One—desire, like a fucking freight train.
Two—a text from Balor Cruz.
Cruz
Tell your girl I need a full list of her past clients. Anyone she’s worked with in the last few years. Could be nothing. Could be our guy.
Holly’s hand is still wrapped around mine as I glance down at the message. She follows my gaze, brows lifting.
“For me?” she asks, already guessing.
I nod. “Our tech guy wants a list of all your past clients.”
“Oh, okay. That’s easy.”
She pulls her phone out of her purse, thumbs moving across the screen in swift, practiced strokes.
“I’ve only worked at Big City Events for three years, and I usually take on three or four clients a year—so it’s not a huge list,” she murmurs, tapping quickly. “I’ll send it to you now.”
I watch her work, watch how effortlessly she adapts, how calm she is under pressure.
She has no idea how fucking strong she is.
I get the message, forward it to Cruz.
The elevators ping, and we step inside one gilded with polished brass and frosted glass etched in snowflakes.
The moment the doors slide shut, the world fades away.
So does my self-control.
She’s standing too close.
Or maybe I’m the one inching toward her like a man starved.
Either way, the scent of her—cinnamon and something citrusy—wraps around me, and I swear I can feel her heat through the layers of our clothes.
The hotel is decked out for the holidays—massive bows, glowing wreaths, glittering garlands. Ornaments hang from the chandelier like tiny suns. Soft Christmas carols drift through the speaker system like a lullaby.
But all I can see is her.
Holly.
My Tinsel.
She glances up, catching me staring.
“What are you looking at?” she asks, breathy and curious, a blush blooming across her cheeks.
I don’t hesitate.
“You, Tinsel,” I murmur. “All I see is you.”
She bites her lower lip again, and before I can move, before I can tug it free and kiss her silly like I want to, the elevator doors open.
I take her elbow, hurrying us to the door where I punch in a code to gain entry.
I got this suite on my own dime.
Didn’t want the bosses involved. Didn’t run it through Sigma’s channels. No expense reports. No oversight.
This—her—isn’t about an assignment.
Maybe it’s the time of year, the lights, the fucking carols playing in every lobby and coffee shop.
Maybe it’s the way she laughs.
Maybe it’s just her.
But I know one thing—when I take Holly in my arms tonight,
I want it to be real.
Not because she’s scared.
Not because she needs protection.
And definitely not because we’re stuck together thanks to a stalker.
I want her because she belongs with me.
And I want her to know it.
I hold the door as she walks inside, and her eyes go wide, lips parted.
“Wow,” she whispers.
Pride fills me.
“Um, excuse me,” she says, and walks towards the luxury bathroom.
I nod, locking the door behind us. I do a quick perimeter check.
The suite is exactly what I’d hoped—floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the snowy city skyline, soft lighting, candles on the table, and a bucket of champagne chilling near the sitting area.
The balcony door is cracked open slightly, letting in crisp December air laced with city noise and the faint scent of pine from the wreaths hung on every lamp post below.
But none of it matters.
Because when the bathroom door opens behind me, the air in the room changes.
I turn—and fuck me.
She’s standing there barefoot, wearing nothing but a blush-colored lace bra and matching panties.
Her skin glows in the dim light—creamy and smooth.
Her curves are soft, perfect, mine, and her silver eyes are locked on mine with a mixture of bravery and vulnerability that hits me harder than any bullet ever could.
“I—I know we don’t have a lot of time together,” she says, voice trembling just enough to make my chest ache, “but I want you, Noel. And if you want me to, I think we should sleep together.”
My jaw drops.
Literally drops.
She’s wrong about the time, but everything else?
She is so on point. Goddamn right she is.
I cross the room in three long strides, stopping just short of touching her.
“You think I only want one night?” I ask, my voice low and rough as gravel.
She swallows. “I—don’t you?”
I reach out, brushing my knuckles down her arm.
“No, Tinsel, you’re wrong. I want you forever. But I’ll take whatever you give me as long as you promise not to shut me out.”
“I-I promise,” she whispers.
Her breath catches, and that’s all the permission I need.
I cup her face gently and press my lips to hers—slow, reverent, and burning with everything I’ve been holding back.
When she melts into me, hands on my chest, a soft sound escaping her lips, I know.
I’m never letting her go.