Bad habits

DIANNE

His son?

He looked… good. Too good. Sharp jaw, hair slicked back, a navy suit tailored to his frame like it was stitched directly onto his skin.

My stomach twisted. And then the guilt hit me, sharp.

What are you doing, Dianne? You’re about to marry a man.

You signed a damn contract this morning.

Suddenly it seemed like the whole world went silent, I was standing in front of the guy I fucked senselessly last night.

His face was a perfect storm of neutral indifference and something darker—like he was amused, maybe. There was the barest flicker of a smirk, there and gone too fast to be sure.

Noticing the weirdness it was getting to be, he cleared his throat and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Diana.”

His voice still had that same low hum I remembered—lazy and rich like it was made to be whispered against my skin.

I reached out. Our hands met.

The touch of his warm soft hands sent shivers down my spine, the flash of last night's memory flickered in my head and I swear I almost moaned at the feel of his hands.

“The pleasure is mine,” I said.

He held my hand a second longer than necessary. Just enough to make me question whether I imagined it.

“Noah is the CEO of Wilson Digital and my heir, of course,” Richard said proudly.

I offered a weakened smile. “That’s…truly inspiring.”

Noah's lips almost turned into a smile but he looked down briefly before masking it immediately.

I was convinced I made a fool of myself.

“He’s handsome,” Simone whispered in my ears but I ignored her, still trying to digest everything.

I could see the resemblance. Richard was fine but nothing compared to Noah. It’s like Noah filled in all the missing pieces. His full lips, perfect jawline, dreamy blue eyes, his physique—everything made him so damn handsome.

“I’ll be right back,” Richard said, giving my hands a quick squeeze before stepping away.

I stayed perfectly still.

Then, as if on cue, Noah reached out and took a glass of wine from a passing server, turning toward me with maddening calm.

“You seem tense,” he said, offering the glass. “Thought this might help.”

Is he serious? Is he just going to act like we didn’t spend last night making a mess of each other

“Let’s feast, shall we?” Richard said and we all made our way to the dining room.

Richard’s voice hummed in the background—something about investments, portfolios, overseas property. I couldn’t focus.

Noah was sitting across from me, perfectly calm and unbothered. If it weren’t for the sexy scar above his left eyebrow, I might have doubted he was the same man I’d slept with last night.

Stop.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, still pretending to listen to all the gibberish Richard was spewing.

God, did he always talk this much? He’d been yapping for ten minutes straight.

My palms were damp, knees locked tight together beneath the table. I couldn’t even look at Noah.

How could he look so unaffected? Meanwhile, I was over here, struggling to keep composure.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. No one had even asked.

Richard paused mid-sentence, confused. “I—was just talking about the merger, sweetheart.”

Right. Of course.

I caught Noah’s eyes then. A flicker of something but it was gone before I could even process it and he looked away.

Why did he keep doing that? Was that his way of keeping low-key?

I wish my perverted mind would stop making me look at Noah again and again. It had only been a few hours of his arrival yet he had managed to send my sanity into shambles.

It was obvious he was tired of this conversation too, I could tell from his facial reaction.

The moment he stood up, my eyes tracked him like a beam of light as he went to the bar section for a drink.

That was when I saw her- the girl who had been trying so hard to get noticed, throwing herself on any man available.

It hadn’t bothered me before, but now, sitting there and watching her fawn over Noah, my skin crawled and my blood started to boil.

I didn’t even know her name, but she was probably one of those rich kids showing up to represent her father’s interests.

She started lightly brushing her hands along his arms. It was painfully clear he wasn’t interested, yet she kept at it relentlessly.

Noah looked anything but pleased. I could see his uncomfortable laughter and body language inching away from her touch.

My anger flared.

I stood abruptly and made my way to the nearest bathroom.

I turned the tap on, letting the water rush through my hands and cooling me down.

I’d never been this annoyed over a guy before.

What was happening to me?

No. That was impossible. I’d shut affection out of my life long ago. So why did I still feel this way?

After a moment letting the warm water wash over me, I turned it off and headed for the exit.

That same pick-me bitch was still there, throwing herself at Noah like she owned the place. As I squinted, I realized she was probably a little drunk.

Agitated, I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing server and deliberately made my way over, bumping into her and sending the wine splashing across her crisp white shirt.

“What the—?” she gasped, eyes wide as the stain spread.

Amusement and surprise etched over Noah’s face.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I said, voice dripping with fake concern.

I flagged down a nearby server. “Please, show this young lady the bathroom so she can clean up.”

Then I turned back, giving her a pat on the shoulder as she followed the server. “I’ll have someone bring you a new shirt.”

Everywhere fell silent before Noah said something.

“Thanks for saving me there,” Noah said, taking the remaining sip of his drink.

“Oh, come on. What are stepmoms for? I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t know what was happening here.”

I said it deliberately. Let it hang.

His eyes cut to mine for half a second—sharp and unreadable but still controlled.

“Be careful, Dianne,” he said, swirling the last of his drink before setting the glass down with quiet precision.

I tilted my head. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Your words might throw you off whatever... arrangement you and my father have.”

That hit but still, I didn’t flinch. “And what words exactly?” My tone was light, but there was an edge beneath it. “Could you elaborate, Noah?”

His jaw ticked—barely.

“I knew what I was doing,” I said, softer now. “And I hate that you’re pretending you didn’t.”

“All I said was that I couldn’t pretend.”

His eyes darkened just enough to confirm: that he heard me.

“Why couldn’t you?” he asked, stepping just slightly closer. His voice was still calm. “Pretend.”

“Because I prefer to be real,” I murmured. “Authentic.”

He smirked—but it didn’t last. It flickered, then dissolved.

“There must be another reason,” he said, quieter now. “Something else, perhaps.”

Before I could answer, he reached out—just enough to catch my wrist. The movement was smooth. His fingers brushed the undone button of my shirt cuff, hidden just beneath the sleeve of my gown.

He fastened it slowly. His warm hands sent a jolt through me. His touch was maddeningly gentle but still Impersonal and intimate all the same.

It was as if last night’s memories flooded my head again.

“You’re different,” he said finally, still not looking at my eyes. “Most people keep quiet. You don’t. What is it you want?” He said with a smirk.

He did not just say that. For once, I couldn’t speak. Not right away.

But then—quietly—I said, “Whatever I’m supposed to want.”

His eyes didn't leave mine, it was fixed for a moment before he quietly let go of my wrist.

I adjusted the sleeve he’d just fixed, smoothed down the fabric, and walked away.

So he did remember.

Guess I’m harder to forget than I thought.