Chapter 6: His Kind of Love

The silence in the penthouse had grown so heavy it felt like it was pressing down on Ava’s chest. Three hours had passed, and she was still sitting at the edge of the leather sofa, her posture rigid, her hands clenched in her dress.

Across the room, Noah hadn’t moved. He was still a shadow against the glow of his monitors, treating her like she wasn’t there.

Then his typing stopped.

The silence shifted.

Noah slowly turned his chair. He didn’t stand, didn’t soften. His eyes settled on her, taking in the exhaustion on her face, the tension in her shoulders.

He was studying her.

“You’re still here,” he said.

No anger. No surprise.

Just quiet observation.

Ava didn’t answer.

Noah stood.

His movements were slow, controlled. He crossed the room without rushing, stopping in front of her, his presence filling the space.

“You should have left when I told you to,” he said quietly. “You don’t make this easy, Ava.”

The words stung.

Not harsh. Not loud.

Just enough to shift the weight onto her.

“You ignored me for three hours,” she said, her voice low but steady.

Noah didn’t react.

Instead, he lowered himself in front of her, bringing himself to her level.

“I had things to handle,” he said. “You know how my world works.”

It wasn’t an apology.

It was an explanation.

And somehow, that was enough to make her hesitate.

“I don’t shut you out without reason,” he added, his voice softer now.

Her defenses slipped.

Before she could stop it, her mind filled in the rest for him.

He’s busy.

He’s under pressure.

He didn’t mean it like that.

Noah reached for her then.

His hand came up to her face, warm, steady, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. The sudden shift—from distance to closeness—made her breath catch.

“You’re the only one who gets this side of me,” he said quietly.

His grip tightened just enough to hold her attention.

“Don’t make me regret that.”

The words weren’t soft.

They weren’t kind.

But they were close.

And that was all it took.

Ava felt it—the pull, the same one she always tried to fight. The part of her that knew this wasn’t right, that she should stand up and walk away.

She didn’t.

Instead, she leaned into his hand.

Just a little.

Enough.

Noah’s expression shifted slightly, something satisfied flickering in his eyes.

He moved closer, pulling her against him, his arms wrapping around her like he had every right to hold her there.

And just like that, the distance was gone.

The silence disappeared.

The hurt faded into something quieter.

Something easier to ignore.

Ava closed her eyes, letting herself sink into it, into him, into the version of this that felt almost real.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

Nothing had changed.

He hadn’t softened.

He hadn’t chosen her.

He had just pulled her back in.

And she had let him.

For a moment, everything felt steady again.

His arms around her.

His presence.

The quiet.

It was enough to make the last three hours feel distant, almost unreal.

Ava stayed where she was, her head resting lightly against his chest, listening to the slow, controlled rhythm of his breathing. It grounded her in a way nothing else ever seemed to.

This was what she came for.

Not answers.

Not clarity.

Just this.

The feeling of being held, even if it didn’t last.

Her fingers curled slightly into his shirt, as if holding on a little tighter might make it real. Might make it stay.

But even as she did, a small, persistent thought pushed its way through.

What happens when he pulls away again?

The question lingered, quiet but impossible to ignore.

She didn’t ask it.

Didn’t want to hear the answer.

Because she already knew.

Ava shifted slightly, just enough to look up at him. His expression was calm again, unreadable, like the moment from earlier had never happened.

Like she had imagined it.

Like this this version of him was the only one that existed.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe she wasn’t waiting for him to change.

Maybe she was waiting for the version of him that only appeared when it suited him.

Her chest tightened.

Still… she didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t say anything that might break whatever this was.

Because even if it wasn’t real

it felt like it was.

And right now, that was enough.