Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Noah
I’m halfway through disposing of the condom and straightening the basement when her words hit me fully.
Thank you. It helped.
My hands still on the throw blanket I’m refolding.
Helped. Like I’m a massage therapist or a stress ball. Something useful. Forgettable.
I’ve had casual hookups. I’ve had relationships that didn’t work out. Hell, I once had a woman tell me straight up I wasn’t enough for her. But this—Alicia’s careful categorization of what just happened as necessary rather than wanted—lands differently.
Because for me? That wasn’t casual.
That was closer to everything.
I grab the box of condoms from the console table—tuck them in the drawer under the security monitors where Stella won’t accidentally find them. Following orders, even when I’m annoyed about it.
I finish straightening up, pull on my clothes with more force than necessary. Grab leftover Thai from the kitchenette fridge. I’m not hungry, but eating gives my hands something to do that isn’t texting Hudson to request reassignment.
I pull up security feeds on my tablet, but the words keep replaying. Thank you. It helped.
Like I solved a problem for her. A task she completed.
The shower turns on upstairs—faint through the ceiling but audible. I track the sound of her moving through her routine. Door closing. Drawers opening. She’s putting herself back together. In every sense.
I don’t expect her to come back down. Smart money says she avoids me until Stella gets home and we can pretend this didn’t happen.
Which is why, twenty minutes later, when I hear footsteps on the stairs, my head snaps up.
I set the tablet down and stand as she appears—barefoot now, in soft gray lounge pants and an oversized sweater that slides off one shoulder. Her hair is damp, face scrubbed clean. She looks younger without makeup—more vulnerable, more real—and it takes effort not to reach for her.
“Hey,” she says, stopping at the bottom step.
“Hey.”
She glances at the empty takeout container. “You ate.”
“Didn’t think you’d be back down.” I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “Figured you’d avoid me.”
Her mouth twitches. “I have no plans to avoid you.”
“Liar.”
That gets a small smile.
“It may have crossed my mind but I don’t practice avoidance.”
The silence stretches, and I let it. I’m not going to make this easy for her.
She steps into the kitchenette, opens the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water. Unscrews the cap. Takes a sip. Classic Alicia—buying time, organizing her thoughts.
Finally, she turns to face me. “About earlier—”
“You needed to get it out of your system,” I finish, keeping my voice level. “So you could focus. I remember.”
She winces. “Noah—”
“Look, I’m happy to help you meet your needs,” I say, and her eyes widen slightly at the edge in my tone. “But if we’re doing this again—and I’m assuming that’s why you’re down here—I’m going to request that dinner date.”
“Noah—”
“I’m not asking for a ring, Alicia. Just dinner.” Something normal. Something that doesn’t disappear the moment it’s over. “Maybe some conversation where we’re both wearing clothes.”
She sets the water bottle down with more force than necessary. “We’ve shared plenty of conversations.”
“About Stella. About your work. Surface-level shit.” I push off the counter. “I don’t even know your middle name.”
“It’s Marie.”
“See? Progress.” I take a step closer. “What’s your favorite movie?”
She blinks. “What?”
“Favorite movie. It’s a simple question.”
“I don’t...I don’t watch a lot of movies.”
“Favorite book, then.”
“Why does this matter?”
“Because I know how you sound when you come, and I don’t know your favorite book.”
Her cheeks flush, and I see her debate retreat—shoulders tensing, walls going up.
“There’s a ten-year age difference,” she says quietly. “You’re thirty-one. I’m forty-one. That matters.”
“To whom?”
“To everyone. To you, eventually.”
I shake my head. “You planning to stay single for the next six years? Waiting until Stella’s grown before you let yourself have something?”
“That’s not—”
“Because that’s a lonely road, Alicia.” I don’t raise my voice—but I don’t soften it either. “And for what? To avoid some imaginary judgment?”
“It’s not imaginary.” Her voice hardens. “People will talk. They’ll assume things about you—about me. That I’m desperate, that you’re using me for—”
“For what? Your money? Your connections?” I step closer, close enough to sense her tension. “I stopped caring what people think a long time ago. Turned out to be the best decision I ever made. Now, I don’t give a damn what others think. And frankly, I’m surprised you do.”
She takes a half-step back—instinctive—then stops herself. Forces her ground.
“I have to care. I have a daughter. A business. A reputation—”
“Built on fixing other people’s scandals.” I reach out, tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time to stop worrying about optics and start worrying about what you actually want.”
She closes her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
When she opens her eyes, there’s something raw in them—fear, maybe. “I can’t afford distractions right now. My business, the investigation, Stella, Richard trying to use all this against me—”
“And you think I’m a distraction.”
“I know you are.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I thought if we just... If I could just get this out of my system—”
“It didn’t work,” I finish softly.
“No.” The word is barely a whisper. “It didn’t.”
I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Good.”
“That’s not good, Noah. It’s a problem.”
“Why? Because you don’t want to feel something for the guy who’s supposedly beneath you?”
She flinches. “I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.” I drop my hand. “But here’s the thing, Alicia. I’m already breaking the professional code of conduct by getting involved with a client. If I’m going to risk my career—my reputation—I need to know it’s for someone who sees me as more than a convenient lay.”
Hurt flashes across her face. “That’s not fair.”
“You came down here with condoms and a plan. You took what you wanted. And the second it was over, you couldn’t get away fast enough.”
“That’s not—” She stops, jaw tight. “You’re oversimplifying.”
“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you got what you needed and bolted.”
“I had to shower. Make dinner. Stella was coming home—”
“Alicia.” I wait until she meets my eyes.
“If you want this to be just sex, tell me now. I can handle that. What I can’t handle is you treating me like some dirty secret you need to wash off.
” She flinches like I’ve struck her. For a long moment, she just stares at me, and I watch the careful walls crack.
“It scares me,” she finally whispers. “This—you—all of it.”
The admission vibrates in the air, and I see her immediately regret it. But she doesn’t take it back.
“Why?” I ask quietly.
She wraps her arms around herself. “Because I don’t do this. I don’t sleep with men I barely know—”
“You know me.”
“Do I?” She looks up, eyes searching mine. “What do you want, Noah? Long-term. What are you building toward?”
The question catches me off guard—because I don’t expect it from her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re thirty-one. You’re smart, driven, good at what you do. KOAN can’t be the endgame.”
“You’re right,” I finally say. “It’s not.”
“So what is?” The question surprises me—that she’s asking, that she’s thought about it. Most people see the job and assume that’s all there is. I lean back against the counter, choosing my words carefully. “You know why I left the Army?”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “I assumed standard end of enlistment.”
“My mom died when I was in basic training. Cancer—fast, brutal, over before I could get home.” The words still taste bitter. “I’ve spent years blaming myself for that. For choosing the Army over being there when she needed me.”
Alicia’s expression softens. “Noah—”
“When I got out, I told myself I’d choose a path that gives me more control.”
“A private outfit?”
“KOAN. Yes, I'm learning the ropes. Hudson is good people. The owner, Caroline, I believe she is too. They’re building something real—investigating when the government won’t, protection for people who need it.
” I meet her eyes. “In the military, you get a window. You see your piece of the mission. The guys above you have a bigger window, bigger scope. They see more, so you learn to trust them. But I’m not a particularly patient guy. I wanted to see the full picture.”
“So you left.”
“So I left,” I confirm. “And I came to KOAN because it’s small enough that I can learn every aspect. See how it all fits together. Eventually, I’ll either partner with them or start something of my own.”
She’s watching me with new intensity, like she’s recalibrating everything she thought she knew.
“You’re not just a guy doing a job,” she says slowly.
“No. I’m not.” I push off the counter. “I’m a guy who knows what he wants and goes after it.
Who doesn’t waste time on things that don’t matter.
And who’s currently standing in a basement, breaking every professional rule he has, because the woman upstairs is the most fascinating person he’s ever met. ”
Those stunning blue eyes flicker. “Noah—”
“You think I’m young and naive. That I don’t know what I’m getting into.
” I step closer. “But I know exactly what I’m doing.
I want this. Not because it’s easy—but because it feels honest. Because I don’t want to walk away wondering.
I’m not afraid of taking chances. Of seeing where this goes. The question is, how brave are you?”
For a long moment, she just looks at me. Quietly, voice so low I can barely hear her, she says, “A dinner date.”
“What was that?”
“You wanted a dinner date.” Her mouth curves slightly. “I think I can manage that.”
Something loosens in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She steps into my space, fingers finding the hem of my shirt. “I want to know you better. The real you. Not just the night shift bodyguard. The man who—”
The front door opens upstairs.
“Mom? I’m home!”
Alicia freezes.
“Stella,” she whispers, then louder: “Hey sweetheart! I’ll be right up!”
She looks at me, panic and regret and something like apology all mixed together.
“Go,” I say quietly.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. Just go.”
She hesitates, then stands on her toes and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Tomorrow. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Then she’s gone, footsteps light and quick on the stairs.
I hear her voice bright and easy as she greets Stella: “Hey honey! How was rehearsal? You’re home early.”
“Director had a migraine. We only ran through Act Two.”
Their voices fade as they move deeper into the house.
I stand in the empty basement, fingers touching the spot where her lips brushed my skin, and I can’t help but smile.
She said yes to dinner.
She said she wants to know me.
It’s a start.
And for a man who’s spent his entire life learning patience in the field but struggling with it everywhere else, I’ll take it.
Upstairs, I hear Stella laugh at something Alicia said. The sound is warm, unguarded—the sound of a mother and daughter who genuinely like each other. Who feel safe together.
And I realize that’s what I want.
Not just Alicia in my bed, though God knows I want that too.
But this. The laughter. The easy domesticity. The family.
The thought should have me requesting a different assignment.
I grab my tablet and settle back onto the sofa, pulling up security feeds. Work. Something I can control while my heart figures out what the hell it’s doing.
But even as I scan the cameras, check the perimeter, note the quiet street outside, I’m smiling.
Because soon, I’ll take Alicia Morgan to dinner.
And maybe—just maybe—she’ll stop running long enough to see what I’m starting to see.