Chapter 4

Emma

[Two weeks earlier]

"I had work to do." I handed him the water and two aspirin, careful not to let our fingers touch. "You have the Johnson meeting at eleven. Your suit is here."

Noah took the glass, his eyes never leaving my face. For a terrifying moment, I thought he remembered everything—the way I'd gasped when he touched me, the way I'd wrapped my legs around him, the way I'd whispered his name over and over while he'd called for someone else.

But then he just made a dismissive sound—that familiar cold grunt that reminded me exactly where I stood with him. He tossed back the aspirin, his throat working as he swallowed.

"Next time, don't leave me alone when I'm in that state." His voice was like ice, professional again, all traces of last night's passion gone. "It's your job to manage these situations, Emma. That's what I pay you for."

My name in his mouth now sounded nothing like it had last night. Now it was just a word, empty of all the heat and desperation that had made me believe, for one foolish moment, that he might actually want me.

"Of course, Mr. York," I replied, my own voice just as cold. "It won't happen again."

I watched Noah's broad back as he moved across the room, the early morning light casting long shadows across his muscular frame.

Last night felt like a distant fever dream. When he'd mistaken me for Lucy in his drunken haze, his hands had been gentle, his voice tender. The way he'd whispered her name while touching me...

Noah disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower running.

When he emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his chest, I approached him with the crisp white shirt I'd chosen, my hands trembling slightly as I held it out. He slipped his arms through without a word, the familiar scent of his body wash—sandalwood and something distinctly Noah—making my heart ache.

"Turn around," I said softly, the first words either of us had spoken that morning.

He complied, and I began fastening the buttons of his shirt, my fingers working their way up his torso. At 5'6", I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach the top buttons, while his 6'2" frame towered over me. The height difference that had always made me feel protected now only emphasized how small I felt in his presence.

I reached for the tie I'd selected—deep navy with a subtle pattern—and raised my arms to loop it around his neck. That's when he finally broke the silence.

"Emma," Noah's voice was low and dangerous, "the woman at the Four Seasons last night—it was you, wasn't it?"

The shock made me stumble backward. I would have fallen if Noah hadn't reflexively grabbed my waist, his strong fingers digging into the same spot they had gripped so desperately the night before. My heart hammered against my ribs as I found myself trapped in his gaze, those piercing blue-gray eyes dissecting my reaction. Oh God, oh fuck, oh God. My mind raced in terrified circles as my lungs seemed to forget how to draw air.

I couldn't meet his eyes. Couldn't face the accusation there. My entire body felt like it was short-circuiting—fingers tingling, stomach twisting into knots.

A cold smile twisted his perfect lips. "You don't have the guts, do you?"

My blood ran cold. He was right. I was a goddamn coward.

Noah's grip tightened, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for something. Something that would make this simpler for him. I knew what he was hoping—that I would deny it, that the woman he'd slept with wasn't me, that he wouldn't have to deal with the complication of fucking his contract wife when their arrangement was days from expiration.

"You said you fell asleep at your office," he said, his voice suddenly sharp as a blade. He pushed me against the mirror, his hand circling my wrist. The cool glass pressed against my back as he leaned in close, his breath hot against my face. "Was that true?"

I stared at his collarbone, unable to look him in the eye, my pulse racing so fast I felt dizzy. My breath came in short, shallow gasps as sweat beaded at my hairline. Before I could formulate a response, Noah glanced down at his shirt and his expression darkened further.

"You buttoned my shirt wrong." His voice was deadly quiet.

I looked down in horror. In my nervousness, I'd misaligned the buttons, creating an asymmetrical mess of his perfectly tailored shirt. Such a small mistake, but in Noah's world, perfection was the minimum standard.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my fingers already moving to fix it, trembling so badly I could barely grasp the buttons. "I'll be more careful. But I really slept in the office last night."

Noah grabbed my wrists, stopping me. "Don't bother." He stepped back, creating a gulf between us that felt wider than the physical distance. "I have the board meeting today. I can't afford these kinds of mistakes."

Something in me snapped. Three years of playing the perfect, accommodating wife. Three years of silent longing. Three years of being invisible to the man I had fallen in love with despite all my better judgment.

"Noah York," I said, using his full name with a steadiness that surprised even me. "Lucy Manning is back from her European tour."

His face went completely blank—the expression I'd seen him use in negotiations when he was caught off guard but refusing to show weakness.

"It's time we discussed terminating our agreement," I continued, amazed at how calm I sounded when inside I was shattering. My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest with every word. "The prenup expires next week."

"Now is not the time," he said coldly. "We have more important matters at York Ventures to deal with."

"More important than your freedom to be with her?" I asked, hating the slight tremor in my voice. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, desperate to maintain control.

Noah's jaw tightened. "We'll discuss this later."

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. "I need to go back to the house to get some documents and prepare the termination draft."

He didn't respond, just turned away to fix his own shirt, dismissing me without a word.