Page 154 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

“And I know enough to recognize arrogance,” I snap, crossing my arms. “What exactly makes you the authority on what works and what doesn’t?”

Eva steps between us, clearly sensing the growing tension. “Lena, this is Dr. Noah Grant,” she says, her tone light but firm. “He’s the one opening the new medical center.”

The name clicks into place like a puzzle piece, and my stomach twists. This istheDr. Noah Grant. The billionaire surgeon everyone’s been talking about. The one whose state-of-the-art medical center is poised to overshadow every other healthcare facility in town—including my grandmother’s clinic.

His gray eyes flicker with something unreadable as he extends a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Lena Torres.”

I hesitate, then shake his hand, my grip firm enough to make a point. “Likewise, Dr. Grant.”

His touch is brief, but it leaves an electric charge in its wake. I pull my hand back quickly, tilting my chin in defiance.

“You’ll find this town values more than just cold, clinical efficiency,” I say. “We value tradition. Connection. Things your medical center might lack.”

His expression remains neutral, but I catch the subtle clench of his jaw. “Tradition has its place,” he says. “But progress waits for no one.”

The tension between us crackles, enough to draw curious glances from nearby guests. Eva places a hand on my arm, steering me gently toward the dance floor.

“Come on, Lena,” she murmurs. “Let’s cool off before someone starts recording this.”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. Noah’s words replay in my mind, and his sharp, unreadable expression lingers in my thoughts. By the time I step outside for a breath of fresh air, the gala feels like a distant hum. The cool breeze brushes against my skin as I lean against the railing, staring out at the moonlit ocean.

My grandmother’s words echo in my mind.Sometimes, the strongest battles are fought not with force, but with understanding.

As I turn to head back inside, something catches my eye. A folded piece of paper is tucked into the corner of the railing. Frowning, I pick it up and unfold it carefully. The handwriting is bold and angular, the words sending a chill down my spine.

“Dangers lurk in familiar waters. Stay vigilant.”

My heart races as I glance around the dimly lit terrace. No one lingers in the shadows, and the note feels impossibly out of place. A warning? From who?

Clutching the paper tightly, I retreat into the warmth of the gala. The laughter and music blur, their brightness at odds with the weight pressing against my palm. One thing is certain: my return to this town will not be as simple as I’d hoped.

The paper crinkles in my pocket as I step back into the gala, the warm buzz of laughter and music now an irritating hum in my ears. Every nerve in my body is alight, the warning from the note replaying in my head.Dangers lurk in familiar waters.

I make my way through the crowd, offering polite smiles to anyone who glances my way. My focus isn’t on the faces, though. It’s on the edges of the room, scanning for something—or someone—that feels out of place. Nothing stands out, yet the unease refuses to leave me.

“Lena! There you are.”

Eva’s voice pulls me back, and I turn to see her weaving toward me through the clusters of guests. She’s radiant as ever, her smile so natural it seems to lift the air around her.

“Dominic just bid on a sculpture I’m convinced is cursed,” she says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “You have to see it—it looks like an octopus and a garden rake had a baby.”

Despite myself, I laugh, the tension loosening slightly. “Are you sure it’s not art?”

“Depends on your definition.” She hooks her arm through mine and leans in, her tone turning conspiratorial. “Okay, spill. What’s going on? You’ve been acting... off.”

“I’m fine,” I say too quickly. Her arched brow tells me she isn’t buying it.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I hesitate, glancing around. The crowd feels too close, the air too thick. “Let’s just say the evening hasn’t gone as smoothly as I hoped.”

“Does this have anything to do with Dr. Doom and Gloom over there?” She nods discreetly toward Noah, who’s standing by the bar, talking to Dominic. His sharp suit and confident stance make him look perfectly at ease, but there’s a tension in the line of his shoulders I hadn’t noticed before.

“Noah’s... not the problem,” I admit, though his earlier comments are still simmering under my skin. “It’s something else. Something strange.”

Eva studies me, her playful smile fading. “Strange like what?”

Before I can answer, a waiter brushes past us, and the moment breaks. “Nothing I can’t handle,” I say, forcing a smile. “Let’s go see this ‘cursed’ sculpture before Dominic spends a fortune.”

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