Chapter 5 (Noah’s POV)

Noah stepped out of his apartment headed towards the park. Yesterday when Herper called during the chaos amid heavy rain, she asked for them to meet.

A sharp cry cut through Wicker Park twilight, snapping Noah to attention as his boots hit the uneven pavement. The rain kept falling, soaking through his shirt and making his leather jacket move against his thin body.

The air carried the bite of wet stone and the faint hum of tension, graffiti smeared the brick walls, a testament to the neighborhood’s edge, where Dominic’s empire clashed with Caleb’s crew in hushed rumors.

His flat loomed in his thoughts, its chipped walls and scattered toy trucks a fragile nest for Eli. Noah’s chest tightened, Harper’s call still clawing at him, her voice a tangled web of regret and greed.

Across the street, she emerged, twenty-eight years of age and five-foot-six, long auburn hair wild in the breeze, green eyes sharp with ambition.

Once his partner, now a lawyer wielding wealth like a blade, she’d walked away from him and Eli, her curvaceous figure a tool admired by the city’s elite for her ruthless deals.

“Hey, Noah, you’re dragging behind,” Harper said, closing the gap, her scent of jasmine slicing the damp.

“Had to sidestep the chaos you sparked,” he shot back, hands deep in pockets.

“Still carrying that grudge? I’m here to mend it.”

“Mend it? You chased dollars and left.”

Her lips pressed tight, a shadow of remorse flickering in her gaze. She wore a fitted coat, heels clicking on the slick ground, her form elegant yet commanding, prized in courtrooms for her cunning mind.

Noah’s gut twisted, old wounds splitting open. The park’s benches stood empty, the silence heavy with their history.

“I messed up, alright? Eli needs his mom back,” she said, her hand grazing his arm, cool fingers pausing.

“Need you after abandoning him for two years?” he snapped, shifting away.

“I will turn it around. Give me a chance.”

“Chance? Show me with more than chatter.”

The touch sent a chill up his spine, her familiarity stirring unease. Noah’s mind darted back to his days in custody where he'd secretly look at boys in dark corners, a queer longing he’d buried under sharp wit.

Harper’s closeness dragged that fear into the light, a life he couldn’t claim. The streetlights buzzed, stretching shadows across the wet stone.

“You look worn to the bone,” she said, tilting her head.

“Grinding for Eli’s upkeep does that,” he replied, voice rough.

“Still at that club? Pathetic.”

“Well it feeds us, unlike your vanishing act.”

She winced, stepping nearer, her hand brushing his cheek, a soft warmth clashing with his tension. Noah’s breath caught, the intimacy jarring yet stirring.

Her greed shone through, and a plan was forming behind her gaze. The park became quiet as the night came on.

“I can offer help. Cash, a proper place,” she said, voice smooth.

“What’s the tradeoff?” he retorted, stepping back.

“Eli’s worth it. You’re not holding up.”

“Low blow, Harper. Dig deeper than that.”

The words bit him, her touch lingering on his skin. Noah’s heart pounded, his fears rising, those stolen club kisses, now entwined with Dominic’s pull.

He rubbed his neck, ran his hand over his chin, stubble scraping against his palm, the burden of Eli’s future weighing him down. Harper’s riches towered, her influence a weapon over his struggle.

“You’ve got someone new, huh?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Keep out of my business,” he snapped.

She laughed, a cutting edge, stepping back. Her coat flared, revealing a polished bag, a mark of her ascent. Noah’s fists clenched, her desertion, his buried desires. The roadway got darker, and a chill set in.

“I want custody,” she said, voice hard.

“Over my lifeless body,” he shot back with clenched fists.

“Could make that happen, if pushed.”

“Take your shot, Harper.”

The threat hung heavy, her hand reaching again, fingers skimming his wrist, a cold promise. Noah jerked free, the touch sparking dread. The park’s quiet deepened, danger lurking.

“You can’t win this,” she warned, leaning in.

“Watch me hold firm,” he replied, jaw tight.

“Eli’s better with me.”

“Not while I’m standing.”

The standoff crackled, a tug of wills. Noah paced, boots scuffing the wet ground, his thoughts knotting with Harper’s greed. Her form moved with intent, her grip on judges a tool, valued for her shrewd tactics. He halted, the air thick, her scent clinging.

“You’re shaking, aren’t you?” she asked, smirking.

“From you? Not a chance,” he lied, voice steady.

“From losing him, I mean.”

“Only if you reach for him.”

Her laugh sliced the night, a shard of glass. She adjusted her bag, heels tapping, her presence a blend of regret and drive. Noah’s pulse raced, he had heard about her ruthlessness in cases, though he wasn't surprised. The streetlights flickered, shadows lengthening.

“I’ll return with court papers,” she said, turning.

“Bring a whole crew,” he called, fists tight.

“You’ll fold, Noah.”

“Keep dreaming.”

She marched off, coat swirling, leaving a wake of tension. Noah exhaled, the cold biting, his mind spinning to Eli’s safety, the danger associated with Dominic. He rubbed his hands, the damp sinking deep, and started back, the night closing in.

The walk stretched, he headed back to his little flat, his boots splashing through puddles, the city’s pulse a low growl. His thoughts churned, he kept recalling Harper’s threat, somehow amidst the threat of losing his son he kept thinking of Dominic’s gray eyes.

Noah reached his apartment, he gently opened the door. He took off his jacket and walked towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Rain pelts the windows, a restless drumbeat matching Noah Brant’s racing heartbeat as he sets his eyes on Dominic. He leans against the kitchen counter, hazel eyes locked on Dominic whose eyes burn with a hunger that makes Noah’s breath catch.

“How did it go?” Dominic asked

“I really don't want to talk about it,” he replied.

The air crackles, heavy with unspoken need. The weight of their secrets—Noah’s hidden club kisses, Dominic’s suppressed fling with Luca—drawing them closer.

Noah’s sarcasm, his usual shield, scatters as Dominic steps forward, his possessive nature unraveling with a need to claim Noah.

“You’re staring, old man,” Noah says, voice low, teasing to mask the heat coiling within him. Dominic’s lips curve, possessive yet soft.

“I’m claiming what’s mine.”

Before Noah can retort, Dominic’s hand cups his jaw, thumb brushing his lower lip, and pulls him into a kiss. It’s fierce, desperate, lips crashing like a storm breaking.

Noah tried pushing him away but to no avail. Dominic times three of his strength despite his age and a bulk of a man. His desires and needs brewed, his hands grip Dominic’s shirt, tugging him closer, the taste of whiskey and danger flooding his senses.

Their mouths move hungrily, tongues tangling as Noah presses his body against Dominic’s, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. Dominic’s hands slide down Noah’s back, fingers digging into his hips, pulling him closer.

Noah gasps into the kiss, a spark of his fears—hiding his desire for men—flaring and fading under Dominic’s touch.

“You shouldn’t want this,” Noah murmurs, breaking the kiss, his breath ragged. Dominic’s eyes darken, voice rough: “I’ve wanted you since you dragged me from that alley.”

Noah’s defiance surges, but it’s laced with need. He shoves Dominic back, guiding him to the worn couch, straddling his lap. Their kisses deepen, messy and urgent, Noah’s fingers threading through Dominic’s hair, tugging hard.

Dominic groans, hands roaming under Noah’s shirt, tracing the winged tattoos on his ribs. “Fuck, kid,” Dominic breathes, peeling the shirt off, exposing Noah’s toned chest.

Noah’s skin burns under Dominic’s gaze, years of hiding this desire unraveling as he grinds against him, feeling Dominic’s arousal through his jeans.

Dominic flips him in a flash, pinning Noah to the couch, his weight a grounding force. “Tell me you want this,” Dominic demands, lips grazing Noah’s jaw, down his neck, teeth nipping at his collarbone.

Noah arches, a moan escaping: “I want you—fuck, I do.” Dominic unbuttons Noah’s jeans, sliding them down with a reverence that belies his ruthlessness.

Just as he was about freeing his hard rock of a manhood, Eli's voice stirred as he woke up from sleep.

“Dadda!”