Under The Billionaire's Control

10 | Start Over

N O A H

I freeze, realizing just how close we’ve gotten. My heart races, and I suddenly feel exposed, like I’ve opened up too much, too fast. I’ve never shown anyone that box, never let anyone see this side of me, and now… I’m not sure what I was thinking.

I pull away abruptly, shoving the box back into the closet. “I— I’m sorry,” I stammer, my voice rough. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I shouldn’t have shown you that.”

Sarah’s brows knit together, confusion written all over her face.

“Noah, it’s okay,” she says, her voice soft but unsure. “You don’t have to apologize.”

But I can’t look at her. The vulnerability feels too raw, too real, and I’m not ready for it. “Just… leave, okay?” I mutter, my back turned to her. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

She stands there for a moment, not moving, and I can feel her eyes on me, like she’s trying to read my mind, to understand what’s going on inside my messed-up head.

“I’m angry at you, Noah,” she finally says, her voice trembling slightly. “I do hate you sometimes… but that doesn’t mean I want to see you like this. If you need someone to listen, I’m here."

I don’t deserve her kindness, not after everything I’ve done, after the way I’ve treated her. I turn to face her, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“It’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ll be okay. You can go.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she nods slowly, clearly hesitant, before walking out of the room. I watch her go, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

What the hell am I doing?

I can’t keep going back and forth like this, can’t keep dragging her into my chaos.

The hours drag on, the weight of what happened lingering in the back of my mind like a dull ache. By the time evening rolls around, I’m pacing the living room, restless and full of regret.

I can’t stop thinking about the look on her face, the way she offered to listen, even when she had every right to walk away.

Without thinking, I find myself in the kitchen. Sarah’s there, her back to me as she prepares dinner. I don’t even know why I’m here, but I force myself to speak.

“Need any help?” I ask, my voice awkward and unsure.

She glances over her shoulder, looking a bit surprised, then shrugs. “Sure. You can chop the vegetables.”

I nod, stepping up beside her. It’s a simple task, but it feels like a step forward, like maybe I can start fixing things between us, one small gesture at a time.

As we work side by side, the kitchen fills with the sound of chopping and sizzling. The silence between us is heavy but not uncomfortable.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She’s focused, strands of hair falling in her face, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

There’s something about the way she’s moving, so determined, so stubbornly strong, that catches my attention. My eyes trail down, noticing how the curve of her neck glistens slightly under the kitchen light, the way her shirt clings to her back.

Damn it, Noah, focus.

But I can’t help it. There’s something about seeing her like this, so real and unguarded, that gets under my skin. I swallow hard, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only get louder.