Page 12 of Noel
She rolls her eyes and snorts.And it’s cuter than I expected.
Like stupid fucking cute.
Inside, the stairwell smells faintly of coffee and pine cleaner.She leads the way, heels clicking on the worn steps, and I have to keep my focus on the surroundings instead of the way her hips move under that dark coat.
My job,I remind myself.Not my fantasy.
Her apartment door’s painted robin’s-egg blue, brass numbers slightly crooked.She unlocks it and pushes inside, flipping the switch.
Warm light spills over a space that’s pure her.
Mismatched mugs stacked beside a coffeemaker, a tiny tree twinkling in the corner, fabric swatches and color palettes covering the kitchen island.Cinnamon candles.Laughter and life in every inch.
Not the kind of place that should feel threatened.
She drops her keys into a bowl.“I know it’s small.But it’s mine.”
“Home should be small,” I murmur, already moving through the space.“Easier to defend.”
She blinks at that, watching as I check locks, windows, the fire escape.I keep my tone professional, but the closeness makes the air thicken.
When I test the back window latch, she’s right behind me, her reflection shimmering in the glass beside mine.
“Do you do that with every client?”she asks softly.
“Only the ones with stalkers.”
She shivers, just a little.I hate that it’s because of fear.
I turn, slow and deliberate, giving her space but not stepping away.
“I already ordered the new locks and alarm system, and I’ll have it all installed tomorrow.In the meantime, keep the windows latched, deadbolt on.Don’t open the door to anyone unless you hear my voice.”
Her throat works.“You think they’ll come here?”
“I think whoever’s been following you wants you scared.”I let my gaze meet hers.“You’re doing a good job pretending you’re not.”
Color blooms in her cheeks.“I’m event-planner-level good at pretending.”
That earns her a faint smile from me—one I don’t mean to give.
“Noted.”
For a moment, neither of us moves.
“So, is that it?You just go now?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll be outside.Guarding.”
The silence stretches, filled with the hum of the radiator and the faint jingling of the little tree.
Then she says quietly, “Oh.Um, thank you, Noel.For being here.”
I nod once.“It’s my job.”
But the words sound thin even to me.
