Rules and Boundaries
1363 Words
I said yes on the twenty fourth hour.
Not because I wanted chaos.
Not because I trusted Noah Cole.
And definitely not because I was suddenly romantic.
I said yes because I understood pressure.
Because I knew what it felt like to have your future hanging on someone else’s decision.
Because, annoyingly, he had looked at me like I was the first honest thing he had seen in a long time.
Still, when I walked back into Cole International the next evening, I felt like I was stepping into a mistake.
The lobby was quieter than the day before, the polished floors reflecting soft overhead lights. My heels clicked too loudly, announcing my nerves.
Noah was waiting near the elevators, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed like he had all the time in the world.
When he saw me, his face shifted.
Not into a smirk.
Not into teasing.
Into something almost careful.
“You came,” he said.
“I said I would,” I replied.
His eyes searched mine. “Does that mean…”
“It means we need to talk about terms,” I cut in quickly.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Terms,” he repeated, amused. “Of course.”
I followed him into a private elevator, my pulse spiking as the doors closed.
Too close.
Too quiet.
His cologne hit me first, clean and subtle, and I hated that I noticed.
He leaned against the wall, watching me like he was waiting for me to bolt.
I lifted my chin. “I am not doing this blindly.”
“I would be disappointed if you did,” he said.
The elevator opened into a sleek executive floor. Everything was glass, steel, and silence. Noah led me into an office that was too large for one person, with a city view that looked like it belonged in a movie.
He gestured to a sofa.
“Sit.”
I did, keeping my posture straight.
He sat across from me, elbows resting on his knees.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I exhaled.
“Before anything else, I want to be clear,” I said.
Noah nodded. “Go ahead.”
“This is an arrangement,” I continued. “Not a relationship.”
His mouth twitched. “Understood.”
“There will be boundaries.”
“Good.”
“There will be rules.”
He smiled slightly. “I assumed.”
I pulled out my phone, opening a note I had typed at two in the morning because anxiety makes me productive.
Rule number one,” I said. “No lying to me.”
His expression turned serious. “Okay.”
“You can lie to the board. To the public. To whoever you need to impress. But not to me.”
Noah’s gaze held mine.
“I can do that,” he said quietly.
Rule number two,” I continued, “no physical intimacy unless absolutely necessary for appearances.”
His brows lifted.
“Necessary,” he repeated.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Hand holding. A kiss on the cheek. Nothing beyond what is required.”
A pause.
Then Noah leaned back slightly.
“That might be harder than you think.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I did not ask for commentary,” I snapped.
He smiled. “Sorry. Continue.”
Rule number three,” I said, forcing myself to stay composed. “We do not blur lines.”
His expression softened.
“That is the whole problem, isn’t it?” he murmured.
I ignored that.
Rule number four. I have control over my schedule. I am not dropping my life to play girlfriend whenever you snap your fingers.”
He lifted both hands. “Agreed.”
Rule number five,” I said, voice quieter now, “when this ends, it ends cleanly.”
Noah’s smile faded.
I hated that.
I cleared my throat. “No dragging it out. No guilt. No emotional mess.”
His jaw tightened slightly, like he wanted to argue, but he only nodded.
“Clean,” he repeated.
I lowered my phone.
“That is everything.”
Noah was silent for a long moment, studying me like I was a puzzle he was not sure how to solve.
“You are terrified,” he said finally.
I stiffened. “I am cautious.”
“You are terrified,” he corrected gently. “And you are still here.”
I swallowed.
“Do not make this personal,” I warned.
He leaned forward again, voice low.
“It is personal. You are putting yourself into my world. That is not nothing.”
I hated that he was right.
“Tell me what happens next,” I said, changing the subject.
Noah exhaled, shifting back into business mode.
“Next, we establish credibility,” he said. “The board wants stability. Consistency. Proof that I am not reckless.”
“And a girlfriend does that.”
“A girlfriend who looks like you do,” he corrected.
I narrowed my eyes. “Explain.”
“You are not flashy,” he said. “You are not chasing attention. You look real.”
Real.
The word landed too heavily.
“You will attend a small event with me tomorrow,” he continued. “A dinner with two board members.”
My stomach tightened.
“Tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Low stakes. Just an introduction.”
I hesitated. “What do I say?”
“The truth,” he said simply.
I blinked. “The truth?”
He smiled faintly.
“You are Blair. You are smart. You are composed. You keep me grounded. That is the story.”
Grounded.
I did not know how I felt about being someone’s anchor.
“And what about you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“What is my role to you?” I pressed.
His gaze sharpened.
“My girlfriend,” he said smoothly.
The word sent an unexpected jolt through my chest.
I forced myself not to react.
“Fine,” I said. “Tomorrow.”
Noah stood. “Good.”
I stood too, clutching my tote bag like armor.
“This does not mean we are friends,” I reminded him.
His smile returned.
“I would never assume that.”
He walked me back toward the elevator.
The silence was heavier now, charged with something unspoken.
As the doors opened, I stepped inside quickly.
Noah followed.
The doors slid shut.
We were alone again.
My pulse spiked.
He was too close, his shoulder nearly brushing mine.
I stared straight ahead.
Then his voice, quiet.
“You did not add a rule about feelings.”
I turned sharply. “Because feelings are not part of this.”
He hummed softly.
“That is what everyone says at the beginning.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Do not test me, Noah.”
His eyes met mine, green and steady.
“I am not testing you,” he said.
“I am warning you.”
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened.
I stepped out quickly, relief rushing through me.
But before I could walk away, Noah spoke again.
“Blair.”
I paused.
I should not have.
I turned.
His expression was unreadable now.
Tomorrow night, when you sit beside me at that table, the board will believe we are real.”
My throat tightened.
“And if they believe it,” I asked carefully, “what happens?”
Noah’s gaze held mine.
“Then we have to start acting like it.”
My heart stuttered.
I forced a breath.
“Goodnight, Noah.”
I walked out before he could see the way my hands were trembling.
That night, I lay awake again, staring at the ceiling.
Rules.
Boundaries.
Control.
Clean ending.
I repeated them like a prayer.
My phone buzzed once.
Noah: Wear something that makes them forget how reckless I used to be.
I stared at the message.
Then another came through.
Noah: And Blair…try not to look at me like you are already in trouble.
My stomach flipped.
Because the terrifying truth was…
I already was.
- Writer
