Chapter four

The life of a junior exec at Shelby firm can be tedious and today was not letting me down one bit.

I was absorbed in spreadsheets and clients paperwork but my mind was somewhere else, i kept thinking about Noah Prescott and the elevator, his tousled her, chiseled jaw, stormy gray eyes and his strong hands that helped me, God help me I was running a marathon.

My phone buzzed. And I looked at my notification bar and it was a private number, my stomach did a strange flip. It better not be Flynn I had him blocked ages ago.

Dinner tonight 7pm La reve

-Noah Prescott

I blinked, what in the world? Business discussions. My pulse picked up. This isn’t appropriate, I’m an employee and he is a client.

I typed back

Mr.Prescott

Mr. Prescott,

Dinner outside office hours may not be appropriate. Perhaps we can discuss this at the office tomorrow?

-Amelia Monroe

Before I could even hit send, a new email pinged in.

I don’t recall asking if it was appropriate. I asked if you were available.

7pm. I’ll send a car.

-Noah Prescott

I froze. He was infuriating. And magnetic. I could feel it already danger.

Just then, Dawn burst in like a whirlwind and then I realized it was our lunch break.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” She asked looking at me intently

I showed her the messages, feeling my cheeks heat up and she sequealed as usual.

“Chica you are going whether you like it or not and I’m helping you with the dress”

I groaned “Dawn this is a client and a very powerful one at that, I don’t think it’s really appropriate—

“Which is exactly why you are going, cmon when was the last time you went on a dinner date talk more of a business dinner, chica I worry about you, after Flynn it’s like you shut every man from your life and buried yourself with work”

“If you won’t go, go for me, please” Dawn said with her puppy eye look that was bad.

“Okay okay you win” I said with my hands up in defeat.

“Yayyy” Dawn said holding my hands.

……..

By 7pm, I was in a sleek emerald dress that made my skin glow, hair in soft curls around my shoulders. My pulse raced as the black luxury car rolled to a stop in front of La reve. Noah was already there, waiting, impeccably dressed in a dark tailored suit. He looked effortless, like the room had already bowed to him.

He stepped forward as I exited the car.

“Ms. Monroe,” he said, voice deep and warm, eyes scanning me like a slow burn.

“Noah,” I whispered, heart hammering.

He held the door open for me, but I noticed how long he looked at me as I passed. My pulse skipped.

Inside, the restaurant was dim, the lighting flattering and intimate. We were shown to a private table. He gestured for me to sit, and I hesitated, acutely aware of the electricity crackling in the space between us.

“You look… incredible,” he said, casually, as if it were just a fact, not a compliment meant to melt me.

I blinked, words caught in my throat. Incredible? He means trouble.

“Thank you,” I said, voice tight but steady.

We ordered water first, then wine—because apparently, I wasn’t allowed to be professional and calm tonight.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, leaning slightly across the table, “but I’ve been looking forward to this all day. It’s nice to talk without spreadsheets between us.”

I swallowed hard, heart doing flips. My hand brushed the stem of my glass, imagining it was his fingers. Focus, Amelia. He’s a client. Numbers first, heart later.

“Well, I do appreciate discussing numbers… just not usually over candlelight,” I said, trying to mask my nerves with humor.

He smirked. That smirk that made my knees weak.

“Numbers have their appeal, yes. But it’s the person behind the numbers that interests me.”

Oh hell. My pulse spiked. Did he really mean that? Or was this just the rich-boss charm?

Throughout dinner, we shared small laughs, subtle touches (his hand brushing mine when passing the bread, leaning in slightly closer than needed when discussing projections), and charged glances. The tension was delicious, almost unbearable.

At one point, I caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. My breath caught. There was admiration in his gaze… and something darker, something that hinted at desire.

When dessert arrived, he leaned forward slightly, his hand nearly touching mine across the table. My body wanted to move closer. My brain screamed don’t.

“You’re far more than I expected, Amelia,” he said softly, gray eyes darkening with intensity.

I swallowed hard. “I hope that’s good.”

“Very good.”

The car ride home was silent, filled with that same tension. When he opened the door for me, his fingers lingered near mine. My pulse raced.

“Can I walk you to your door?”

“Yes” I replied

He walked behind me, me leading the way, my apartment wasn’t what he was used to, the elevator was out of order and we had to take the stairs, isn’t that great

I got to the front of my apartment door and I smiled at him

“Well this is me” I said looking at him

“Yeah” he replied his eyes holding mine

“I had an amazing night Noah, thank you” I said touching his hands, I didn’t know why I did that.

He stepped closer and I could feel his breath on my face, His eyes filled with want and longing.

“As did I” he said with his eyes on my lips leaning in for a kiss

Our foreheads touched and just when our lips met, I drew back

“I’m so sorry, I’ll see you in the office soon” I said hurriedly, opening my door and stepping inside.

“Good night” I said to him before closing the door.

My heart was in my mouth, I was out of breath, this can’t be happening and this was trouble.