Chapter 2. Flashback in satin and bruises

9:55 a.m. – Office of Ace Rotherwell 

Ace gazed at the vacant spot where Noah had been moments before. The air lingered with the subtle aroma of his cologne warm, alluring, completely recognizable.His breath was closer and heart taken His fingers trembled. 

It had been more than a year since he last touched Noah. 

He had not permitted himself to recall the sensation. 

However, at this point? 

Suddenly, the memories flooded back like a twinkle of flashback, unwelcomed and persistent. 

A year ago – El Ático en Royalton Towers 

Rain drummed on the window like a metronome,gently and constant. 

Ace positioned himself by the floor to ceiling window, whiskey clasped in his hands, 

Noah’s laughter,

resonated from the bedroom.warm, tipsy, and carefree close to him. 

"You’re mulling it over again," Noah remarked, barefoot, his shirt all of the sudden was partially unbuttoned, his chest glimmering faintly from the steam of the shower. 

Ace remained stiffed. 

"You’re impaired." 

“I’m content,” Noah amended, moving nearer. "Give it a slicky shot one day." 

Ace remained motionless as Noah's arms wrapped around his waist, deliberate and possessive. Lips lightly touched the nape of his neck. 

"We ought not to," Ace whispered, eyelids shutting. 

"Then why are you feeling so tough at the moment?" Noah murmured, his hips thrusting forward with relentless accuracy. 

Ace snarled, the noise harsh. "Since you keep going." 

"I don't think you would want me to." 

Ace pivoted and seized Noah by the waist, whirling him around until their backs hit the glass. The city lights glistened with rain behind them. 

"You’re a problem," Ace murmured, lips close to Noah’s. 

"And you're hooked," Noah responded. 

They kissed like flames igniting petrol. 

Clothes disappeared—torn, thrown. Ace sank to his knees on the marble surface, his hands exploring the well-known curves of Noah’s thighs, his tongue following the route of Noah’s longing, steadily and torturously. Noah inhaled sharply, running his fingers through Ace’s hair, panting and yearning. 

“I despise you,” then,he murmured through gritted teeth. 

Ace glanced upward, his voice a growl. "Why do you return, then?"

Noah remained silent. 

He simply groaned. 

Presently– 10:03 a.m. 

Ace jolted down from the memory as if it had sliced through him. He opened his desk drawer slightly and took out the decanter. Water not liquor. 

He stopped drinking after Noah departed. 

Still, every flavor, every recollection of Noah remained. 

Thus was the embarrassment. 

He hadn't merely loved Noah. 

He had adored him. 

Adored him while on his knees. 

Adored him in the luxury bedroom where the city served as a setting for desire and deception. 

He’d concealed the recollections in spreadsheets, quarterly forecasts, and major acquisitions. 

Yet one smirk from Noah Sinclair, and they rushed back. 

Ace opened and closed his eyes.

He rose suddenly, requiring space from his own reflections. Out of the shame. From the urge that was tearing at his insides.

He untightened his tie, breathed out, and approached the glass wall that faced half of New York. The skyline didn’t provide tranquility—it provided tension. Anticipations. Regulate. Flee.

The door creaked open behind him.

He didn't need to turn. He sensed it. That existence. That gravitational force.

"Noah," he spoke softly.

“Alright,” came the calm response, “at least you still pronounce my name as if it holds significance.”

Ace shifted. Noah rested against the doorframe, one brow lifted, latte in hand, the cuffs of his designer shirt rolled back slightly to show off his muscular forearms and that damn watch Ace gifted him for his 30th birthday. A limited edition Rolex.

He continued to wear it.

Ace felt a constriction in his throat.

“You locked the door earlier,” Noah murmured gently, entering the office and closing the door behind him. "Figured we ought to discuss this in a place with less surveillance."

“Are there less repercussions?” Ace retorted.

"Since when have repercussions prevented you from achieving your desires?" Noah inquired, moving nearer, his tone smooth yet firm.

Ace stood firm. “You stepped outside, Noah.” Suddenly. Sans adieu. "You abandoned me amidst a scandal and anticipated that I would fix it."

“I had to take a breath,” Noah remarked, his chest elevating. "You were choking me." This organization. The community. You.

“I was attempting to keep you safe.”

"You were attempting to possess me."

That arrived. Ace flinched.

Stillness.

Noah then spoke in a gentler tone. “I never ceased to love you.” “I can no longer figure out how to endure you.”

Ace fixed his gaze on him, each nerve in turmoil.

In three strides, he moved across the room, lifted his hand, and held Noah’s chin.

"You continue to chatter

excessively," he whispered, then kissed him.

10:20 a.m. – Meeting Room 12B 

Noah was already in his seat when Ace entered, his legs crossed gracefully, twirling a Montblanc pen between his fingers like a plaything. 

“Do you miss me already?” he inquired while still not looking up. 

"I longed for the sound of silence," Ace remarked unemotionally, sitting down in the seat across. 

Noah let out a soft laugh. "That’s not what you overlooked." “Alright then.” 

Contracts were reviewed by them. Public relations reports. Predictions.

Nonetheless, Ace’s thoughts were not focused on the surroundings. 

It remained in that penthouse. Eve of night. That figure type. 

Noah tilted closer, his voice dropping unexpectedly. "You keep staring at my lips as if you no longer remember their flavor." 

Ace remained unfazed. "I did not miss." "I've recently mastered the skill of deception." 

“Seriously?” 

Noah's eyes appeared to be flamed. 

"Do you need me right by ur side to jog your memory?" 

A short moment of quiet occurred. 

Ace got up, walked to the door, and secured it. 

Noah lifted an eyebrow. "That increased quickly." 

Ace carefully moved through the room, unfastening his jacket, button by button. "I will not engage in sexual activity with you in a conference room." 

"Embarrassment." 

"Still, I will remind you of your connections." 

Ace relaxed closed to Noah's cushion, supported himself with his arms on both sides,

his voice softly whispering in his ear. 

"Don't ever toy with me, Noah." 

Noah's lips just inches away from Ace’s. “Then don’t treat me like you’re still in charge.” 

They failed to share a kiss. 

Not at this moment. 

Nevertheless, the ambiance around them buzzed. Pressure high, perilous. 

Ace chose to withdraw. "This is not the story." "We need to rescue our business." 

“Noah whispered, ‘And a connection to endure.’” 

"If that were to happen." 

Noah's expression became gentle. "It really did." You simply never allow yourself to accept it.

10:42 a.m. – In front of the Room 

Their aides were on standby. 

Nobody inquired about the reason for the room's locking. 

Nobody said anything about the intensity in Ace’s gaze or the rosy hue on Noah’s face. 

Yet every intern in the corridor was aware of this: 

Something perilous had been rekindled behind that door. 

And on this occasion, it was more than mere desire. 

It was affection. 

Injured. Complex. And contorted sufficiently to consume them both.