Chapter 228: Noah

Tossing and turning on the lumpy office couch, Noah checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The screen remained stubbornly blank; no new messages from Hannah. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “Damn it, Hannah,” he muttered. “One simple thing. That’s all I asked.”

He’d been clear about the conditions of her trip. If she didn’t want a bodyguard, fine—well, not fine, but he couldn't argue. But she was supposed to text him each night to confirm her safety. Wasn't that a reasonable request for a husband?

Rising, Noah paced his office, unable to shake an uneasy feeling. He knew Hannah could handle herself, but still… couldn't she see he just wanted reassurance?

After another hour of restless pacing and fruitless phone-checking, Noah abandoned sleep. He grabbed his keys and headed out, figuring a drink might calm his nerves.

The bar was relatively quiet, even for a Friday night—a welcome solitude. Sighing, he slid onto a stool and ordered a whiskey, neat.

Nursing his drink, his mind wandered back to Hannah. Things had been strained lately. But when hadn't they been? He wondered if she was avoiding him, out of spite. That would be typical.

Lost in thought, he barely registered the tap on his shoulder until someone cleared their throat. He turned, surprised to see Zoe in a stunning sparkling red dress.

“Noah?” Zoe said, eyes wide. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Noah blinked, taking in her appearance. The dress, floor-length and form-fitting, accentuated her curves. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, her eyes smoky, her lips a matching red.

“Zoe,” Noah said. “You look… good.”

Zoe smiled coyly. “Thanks. I, uh, work here now. I’m the lounge singer.”

“Really?” Noah said, impressed. “That’s great. You always had an amazing voice.”

“You’re too sweet,” Zoe chuckled, lightly touching his arm. “I’m on break. Mind if I join you? Or are you with someone?”

Noah hesitated, then nodded toward the empty stool. “Please, sit. I’m not with anyone.”

As Zoe settled beside him, Noah couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked. He hated that he noticed, but it was impossible to ignore; the dress clung to her waist, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. It was clearly intentional; lounge singers dressed to impress lonely patrons.

“So,” Zoe said, leaning in, awaiting her red wine. “What brings you out tonight? Trouble sleeping?”

Noah sighed, swirling his whiskey. “Something like that. Hannah’s out of town, and she didn’t want a bodyguard. She promised to text, but…”

As Noah spoke, Zoe’s hand again found his arm. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Noah recoiled slightly, but he was tempted. It would be so easy to confide in Zoe, to release his frustrations and doubts.