Two years ago

Noah

I’ve grown up with the royal family of Cyndryann, but I’m not a royal. There’s a distinction there that’s very important, although it’s ignored by the people who try and use me for my connection to them. I could be a royal—a duke, an earl, maybe even a lord—but I don’t want that. My former guardian, Steve, who is King of the tiny island, has offered me a title more than once, but I’ve always turned it down.

I know exactly who I am, and it’s far from royal. My parents were con artists, and cat burglars. It was only after my father died doing a favor for the former King, my best friend Brayden’s father, that I was taken to live at the castle. My sister, Darcy, took on the vow my father had promised, and almost got killed too. She’s now a spy, and married to Brayden, making her a princess, which I guess is a little ironic.

But, I’m just me. Noah. Friend of the monarchy, brother to a super-spy, and a pretty good architect. I thought that was enough for the woman I was dating back home, until I found her in bed with a real royal, and understood I was just a pawn in yet another game. She wanted entrance to the world I lived on the outskirts of, and I gave it to her. And then she gave it up to him.

Now, I’m doing some freelance work for Ryan Griffin, one of the best architects in the world. He’s asked me to check out real estate in Europe for him, and while it’s not exactly what I hoped to be doing, it gets my foot in the door. Actually, Darcy got my foot there because she’s friends with him, but I’m working to open the door all the way, and walk on in.

First stop, Amsterdam. I’ve been here many times, but never in a work capacity. I’ll mostly be looking at properties outside the city, but there are a few canal properties of interest To Ryan as well. At the moment, I just need to check into my hotel, and settle in.

“Welcome to Amsterdam,” the woman at the front desk tells me.

“Thanks.”

“Here is your key. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

I nod, and walk down the hall to the second tower of the hotel. I chose this place because of the cool art I saw on the website, and also because it’s in a residential area of the city. In the past, I’ve stayed closer to the “action”, but I’m not here for anything but work this time, and I wanted something quieter.

Once I’m upstairs, I find my room, and insert the key. The door opens, and a woman screams. I look up, and take in the vision before me. There’s lots of skin, and lace. Sexy black lace.

“What are you doing?”

I force my eyes to pass the mouth-watering curves, and find her face. She’s of Asian descent, with sculpted cheekbones, a lush mouth, and steely blue eyes. I have to force myself to speak, because she’s pretty much rendered me speechless.

“This is my room.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Then why did my room key open the door?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Do you want to put some clothes on, and we can go downstairs to see what’s up?”

“I suppose we should.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

“Thank you.”

I close the door, and lean against the wall next to it, trying to catch my breath. I’ve seen—and dated—some of the most beautiful women in the world, but the one in that room eclipses them all. It’s not just that she’s gorgeous, or has a body that makes me want to sin; it’s the way she looked at me. She may have initially screamed, but she wasn’t afraid once I was standing in front of her. She was angry, and fierce. Sexy as fucking hell in that lace, but ready to take me down. And damn if I don’t want to be taken down by her.

“Let’s go,” she says, walking past me.

I follow along like the little puppy dog I feel like right now, chasing after the treat I want more than anything. She stands as far away from me as possible on the elevator, and refuses to make eye contact. I still eye fuck the hell out of her, because I can’t help myself. Even in the jeans and t-shirt she threw on, she’s still fucking brilliant.

“They might comp your room for the mistake,” I tell her, because I have to say something.

“I don’t need my room comped.”

The doors mercifully open, and we walk to the desk. Everything is straightened out, and we both accept one night’s free room, because there’s no sense in turning it down. As we walk back to the elevators, I reach out to touch her forearm.

“Have dinner with me?”

“No.”

“You do realize this isn’t my fault, right?”

“Yes.”

“So why won’t you go to dinner with me?”

“That accent gets you what you want, doesn’t it?’

“My accent? No.”

“Why do you want to go to dinner with me?” she asks, crossing her arms over those magnificent tits of hers.

“You’re gorgeous, sexy, and just a little scary,” I admit.

She jerks like she’s been shocked. “I didn’t expect you to be honest.”

“That’s one thing you can always expect from me.”

“Just dinner.”

She says it, but I see the desire in her eyes. “I’m Noah,” I tell her, holding out my hand.

“Jen.”

* * *

One year ago

“Yes. Just like that, Noah,” Jen says, digging her nails into my shoulder.

We’ve been meeting every month for the last year, and still know nothing about each other, except our first names. We pick a city, and a hotel, and then we meet in the bar. It’s the best two days of my month.

“How do you feel better every time?” I ask, holding tight to her hips as I thrust up into her.

“I don’t know,” she says, a sad note in her voice, making me feel like she’s holding something back.

Right now isn’t the time to ask, and honestly, I’ll have to stop myself from asking her later. Our silent agreement is that this is just fun. We hold hands when we walk through the cities, and we buy each other little gifts, but we don’t talk about our lives. For all I know, she could have a bloke back home, and while the thought makes me want to kill someone, I know it’s not my business. I get one weekend a month, and that has to be enough.

* * *

Six months ago

“Are you Noah?” the bartender in my London hotel asks me.

“Yes.”

“I have a note for you.”

This is different. It must be from Jen, but I don’t understand why she’s writing to me, instead of sitting next to me at the bar. Maybe she wants to add some play to our game. At least that’s what I think, until I open the envelope.

Noah,

I wanted to say this to your face, but I can’t. I can’t speak the words I need to say, and watch you reject me. I’m sorry. So very sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.

We agreed to no strings, no last names, and no feelings. But, I have feelings. So many feelings, Noah. I’ve fought them for over a year, but I can’t hide from them any longer. I love you. I am so in love with you. I ache when we’re apart, and I want to cry when I see you, because I don’t know if you feel the same way. Or, if you feel anything at all. We built these walls, but I want to break them down.

If you want to give me—us—a chance, I’ll be in room 1017. If you don’t want more than sex, this is the end for us. I love you too much to be able to pretend any longer.

Jyn

Jyn? I always thought her name was Jen. I didn’t even know her fucking name, and now she’s giving me an ultimatum. Does she know who I really am? I don’t want to believe she’s been playing me, but what if she was?

Feelings? I have lots of feelings. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her since I saw her in that Amsterdam hotel room. I just don’t know if I can go all in with a woman again. It’s been almost two years since I last let one all the way in, and while I want Jyn more than my next breath, my need to protect myself is even stronger.

I can’t do this. I finish my drink, tell the front desk my plans have changed, and walk out of the hotel into the cold London night. My heart is shattering, but I can still walk away, and that’s what I have to do.