It had been a whirlwind of a year for Amélie. Leaving her home in Paris to study in London had been both exhilarating and terrifying. At twenty-three, she found herself not only navigating the pressure of university life but also working long hours at Claridge's, one of the most prestigious hotels in the city. The staff there knew her as diligent, professional, and always impeccably polite, her blonde hair neatly tied back, and her blue eyes alive with curiosity for the world she was now a part of.
Her job as a concierge meant she often dealt with high-profile guests. Musicians, actors, and politicians were nothing out of the ordinary. But there was something about Noel Gallagher that felt different.
Noel had checked into the hotel just a few days prior, occupying one of the luxurious suites. He had a presence about him, the air of a man who had seen everything and wasn't impressed by much anymore. Yet, every time Amélie interacted with him, there was a glint of something in his eyes-interest, perhaps.
It started innocently enough. A few polite exchanges, a passing compliment about how well she handled a particularly difficult guest. But there was no mistaking the shift, the way his gaze lingered on her a little longer than necessary, or how he seemed to seek her out whenever he needed something.
It was on the third night of his stay when the atmosphere between them changed.
Amélie had just finished a late shift and was on her way to leave when she noticed Noel in the hotel bar, sitting alone with a half-empty glass of whiskey. His eyes caught hers from across the room, and he motioned her over with a casual flick of his wrist.
"Amélie," he said with that signature Mancunian drawl as she approached. "Why don't you join me for a drink? You look like you could use one."
She hesitated. Staff didn't usually fraternize with guests like this, but something about the invitation was hard to refuse. Noel Gallagher wasn't just another guest, after all.
"I shouldn't...," she began, but he gave her a look that was equal parts charm and command.
"Come on, just one. You've earned it."
Against her better judgment, Amélie found herself sliding into the seat across from him. She ordered a glass of wine and tried to play it cool, but the intensity of his gaze made her pulse quicken. She had admired him from afar, like any young person who had grown up with the music of Oasis in the background, but being this close to him, in such an intimate setting, was something entirely different.
"So," Noel began, leaning back in his chair with that effortless confidence, "What's a young French girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"I'm studying," she replied, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "And I work here part-time to help with the costs."
"Ah, clever girl. Smart and hardworking. I like that."
His words were simple, but the way he said them made heat bloom in her chest. The conversation flowed easily after that-music, travel, London versus Paris. The more they talked, the more Amélie relaxed, her initial nerves melting away. There was something about Noel that put her at ease, despite his fame. He was sharp, quick-witted, and when he laughed, it felt like she was the only one in the room who could draw that sound from him.
But it wasn't long before the conversation took a turn.
"You know," Noel said, his voice dropping slightly, "you're far too beautiful to be working in a place like this. Surely you've got bigger plans?"
Amélie felt her cheeks flush under his compliment. "I don't know about that," she said, her voice a little breathless. "I'm just trying to get by for now."
