Amelia
I woke up slowly,if drifting up from the bottom of a warm ocean. My limbs felt boneless, my body humming with the aftershocks of what Noah and I had done. Every muscle ached in the sweetest way, a reminder of his hands, his mouth, his body against mine.
Yes Noah, fuck me
My mind reeling back to what had transpired on this bed I was moaning like a dog in heat, I pulled the pillows on my face and squirmed.
For a moment, I didn't open my eyes. I just lay there, breathing him in. His scent—clean, masculine, a little like cedar and salt air—still clung to the sheets. The bed felt too big without him. Too cool. My hand instinctively reached over to where he'd been, fingers brushing over a warm indent in the mattress.
He hadn't been gone long.
I blinked my eyes open. The master bedroom was bathed in soft morning light, spilling through the sheer curtains that swayed with the ocean breeze. Everything looked dreamy… hazy… like a scene I wasn't fully awake for yet.
The sheets were a mess—twisted, pulled down, evidence of how wildly he'd touched me. The scent of him lingered on my skin. My thighs pressed together instinctively, heat blooming in my cheeks as memories replayed.
God.
I finally sat up, groaning quietly at the soreness between my legs. I reached for the bedsheet to wrap around myself—when I noticed the small folded note by the pillow, his handwriting bold and sharp across it.
My heart fluttered as I picked it up.
"Baby,
I'm sorry. Something urgent came up, and I had to leave earlier than I wanted.
You have no idea how hard it was walking away from you.
I'll be back as soon as I can.
Eat, rest, explore. Make yourself at home—this place is yours as much as it's mine.
—Noah."
It was 5pm and the skyline was drifting to night time,the view from the bedroom was so breathtaking, I wanted to explore other parts of this house, it must be so nice to live here though.
With the sheet around me, I slid out of bed. My legs wobbled a little.
"Jesus, Noah," I muttered under my breath, half a scold, half a blush.
The floor was cool beneath my feet as I stepped out into the hallway. The beach house was silent—almost too silent without him. It smelled faintly of vanilla and sea breeze, that expensive-clean scent that followed Noah everywhere.
I wandered first into the living room—an open, sunlit space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The waves crashed softly, almost inviting me out. The soft cream couches looked untouched, like something out of a luxury magazine. His suit jacket from earlier lay tossed over one armrest, a reminder that even in paradise, Noah never fully stopped being Noah.
I drifted toward the kitchen next. There were fresh pastries on the counter—still warm. A bowl of tropical fruit. A note in different handwriting:
"Please enjoy. —Ana"
His staff thought of everything.
I took a croissant and wandered toward the back doors, pushing them open to step onto the deck. The ocean breeze hit me instantly, cool against my warm skin. The private beach stretched endlessly white sand, gentle waves, sunlight glinting off the water like scattered diamonds.
padded barefoot into the kitchen again, nibbling another bite of the croissant. A soft voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Good evening , Miss Amelia."
I turned to find a kind-looking older woman standing near the island counter. Tall, graceful, polished — she looked like the kind of woman who ran a palace kitchen.
"Oh! Good evening ," I said quickly, pulling the shirt down, suddenly shy.
She smiled warmly. "I'm Ana. I handle the household when Mr. Prescott visits the beach house."
"Oh! You made the pastries?"
"Yes." Her eyes softened. "Mr. Prescott told us to prepare everything you like."
My heart squeezed.
I sat at the island while she brewed a cup of tea for me. It felt oddly domestic peaceful like this could be my life if I let it.
"Your pastries are elite" I said biting down on the croissant in hand
"Thank you, I try, even though our boss hardly eats" she smiled softly
I smiled back, she was the kind of person I could freely talk to, "This place is beautiful"
"Yes, this beach house and the waterfront are exotic and have been in the family for years" she said, her hands busy with some kitchen work.
"You must be very special to him," Ana said gently.
I blinked. "Huh?"
"He hasn't brought anyone here in… well." She hesitated. "A very long time."
My curiosity sparked. "Really? He doesn't come here often?"
"He used to," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Back when he was engaged."
My breath caught.
Engaged.
I tried to keep my face neutral, but my fingers tensed around the warm mug.
Ana seemed to realize she'd said too much and quickly busied herself with the sink. "Ah— forgive me, I didn't mean—"
"No, it's okay," I said softly. "I didn't know."
She nodded, lips pressed together, and changed the subject. But the word echoed in my head like it had been shouted.
Engaged.
Noah hadn't mentioned that, engagement was a big and a huge step, and of course my heart pounded, I wanted to not think too much about it, but I saw myself bringing out my phone to do my research about it, I have never been the person to google a person or believe everything on Wikipedia, but he hadn't mentioned this and I wanted to know why.
I was on the kitchen counter, sipping on my tea when the picture of a younger Noah and a woman popped up on a blog.
City most eligible bachelor, Noah Prescott is officially hitched,
She was beautiful. Blonde. Slender. A sharp, elegant smile. Her hand rested on his chest— claiming him.
My stomach tightened.
Fiancée.
Of course she was perfect.who would wanna compete with that?
From the article I read, she was a lawyer for a very large law firm and was also from a rich background, she looked solid and the right partner for Noah.
So why did they break off the engagement then?
"Thank you so much Ana" I said, sliding off the kitchen stool.
She nodded back to me in response, my mind full of answered questions, unsure of whatever this was between me and Noah, I tried shaking it off, I've been burned before, cheated on and manipulated, it wasn't a bad feeling, this way.
I wrapped my hand around myself, and headed back to the bedroom, waiting on Noah. I waited for sleep to come but my mind was clouded with events of today and upon learning about Noah's ex fiancé too.
I eventually fell asleep on the giant bed that was still tousled and scattered from our love making and my eyes drifted off to sleep.
The front door clicked open softly.
I stirred awake, eyes blinking, and saw him standing there — hair messy, shirt undone at the top, dark circles under his eyes.
He looked exhausted.
And gorgeous.
His eyes softened the moment he saw me. "Baby."
I sat up, heart pounding oddly, the image of that blonde woman flashing in my mind. "Hey."
He crouched beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I missed you."
I smiled faintly. "I missed you too."
But something inside me tugged a truth sitting on my tongue.
"How did it go?" I asked siting up, trying to get the hang of being a billionaire's girl
"Just a couple of meetings with clients and investors" he said leaning into me for a kiss
It was short and sweet.
"Nothing you worry yourself about" he said
"Are you ready to go?, I'm so sorry I cut you off work" he murmured
Shit, work, I didn't even want to go, but duty calls as always, my position a junior accountant isn't going to waste.
"It's okay, I can call in sick this morning" I replied
"Okay baby, I'll be waiting downstairs for you" he said kissing my forehead
We boarded the yacht a little after sunrise, heading back to the city. I sat beside him on the long cushioned seat by the railing. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair, and he rested his palm on my thigh like he always did.
But my mind wasn't quiet.
I watched him for a moment. His profile. His jaw. The slight frown of concentration as he checked something on his phone.
I exhaled.
"Can I ask you something?"
His thumb paused on the screen. "Anything, baby."
I swallowed, my heart thudding.
"In your beach house…" I said softly. "You used to come there with someone. Your fiancée?"
He stilled completely.
Slowly, he lowered his phone.
His jaw clenched once not in anger, but in something like pain.
Then he turned to me fully.
"Who told you?"
"Ana… and I saw a picture." I looked down at my hands. "I didn't mean to pry."
He exhaled through his nose, long and slow, leaning back against the seat.
"Amelia…" His voice was deep, tired, something raw in it. "I should have told you myself."
My chest tightened.
I nodded, waiting.
"Yeah," he said quietly, eyes drifting out to the water. "I was engaged once."
Then he sighed—a long, heavy exhale—and suddenly he looked so much older than thirty-something. Like a man who had carried too much alone.
"Her name was Evelyn," he said.
I stayed perfectly still, afraid to breathe, afraid I'd interrupt something he needed to let out.
"We were together for years," he continued. "Everyone thought we were perfect."
That word stung more than I expected. Perfect. I didn't feel perfect. I felt… human. Trying. Wanting him. Afraid of wanting him too much.
But I kept my expression gentle, encouraging.
"She cheated," Noah said bluntly.
I blinked, surprised. My heart twisted—not out of jealousy, but because the hurt in his voice was unmistakable, even though he was trying to hide it. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he looked away toward the water.
"It happened more than once," he said. "I stopped counting."
My chest tightened. I couldn't imagine Noah—strong, controlled, intense Noah—being betrayed like that. I wanted to reach out, but I held still, letting him speak.
"She liked the lifestyle," he added. "Not… me."
Something inside me softened painfully. Because that was the exact opposite of how I saw him. Noah didn't need the yacht, or the beach house, or the money, or the power. He could've put me in a shack and I would still have been pulled to him.
I found my voice. "I'm so sorry."
He finally looked at me then—really looked. And I could see it. The exhaustion. The remnants of old hurt. The worry that history could repeat itself.
"I ended it," he said. "And I didn't bring anyone to the beach house again. Not until you."
My breath caught.
He said it like a confession. Like a truth he'd been holding too close.
The wind brushed lightly over us, carrying the soft scent of saltwater and sun-warmed air. His thigh touched mine, heat grounding me.
I hesitated, then admitted softly, "I just… don't want to feel like I'm stepping into someone else's place."
He shifted immediately closer, firmer, his hand coming to rest warm on my leg. "You're not."
The certainty in his voice felt like a hand closing around my heart, steady and sure.
He lifted my chin gently, guiding my gaze back to his. "You're not her, Amelia. You're nothing like her."
I bit my lip. "I know, I just… needed to hear it."
"You should've heard it from me sooner," he said. "But you're hearing it now."
His thumb traced the corner of my mouth, slow, intentional. It wasn't sexual. It was… grounding.
Reassuring.
Real.
A warmth spread through me—not lust, not excitement, but something deeper. Something terrifyingly close to hope.
I slid closer, my shoulder brushing his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against him like I belonged there.
And maybe… I did.
I rested my head over his heart, listening to the steady beat beneath his dress shirt. The yacht hummed quietly beneath us as it cut through the water. The sun glinted off the waves like scattered gold.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
I felt his lips press into my hair, soft and lingering. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmured.
And somehow I had this nudge in my chest, that this could all be too good to be true.