The Billionaire's Soft Boy

Mine

(Noah’s POV)

The thing about floating is that it makes the fall worse.

And I’d been floating since her kiss.

Since her fingers brushed my cheek, since she whispered dirty things like they were promises. Since the gift bag. Since I started to believe — maybe, just maybe — that someone like her could want someone like me.

I was still holding onto that feeling when Liam cornered me by the copy room.

“Hey,” he said, too casually.

I froze, holding a stack of reports.

Liam smiled, fake and cold. “You and Dahlia, huh? Cute.”

I didn't say anything. Just tried to edge past him.

He stepped in front of me.

“You think she actually wants you? Come on, man.”

My stomach dropped.

“She does and it's non of your business” I said, quietly.

“She doesn’t.” His voice hardened. “She’s playing you. I know because I tried. A couple years ago. Stronger jaw. Better numbers. Way more confident than you. And she wouldn’t even look at me.”

I felt sick.

“She’s not the type to settle. So if she’s messing with you, it’s because she’s bored. Or she wants something.”

“I didn’t ask her for anything,” I muttered.

“Exactly. Which makes it even sadder.”

He leaned in, eyes glittering.

“You’re a soft, fragile little boy. And when she breaks you, no one’s going to put you back together.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My chest felt like it was caving in.

I let him walk away.

---

The rest of the day was a blur. I barely looked at my computer screen. Just sat there drowning in silence.

I felt stupid. Small. Naive.

Ofcourse someone like her wouldn’t want someone like me.

I mean — look at me.

Awkward. Skinny. Shy. The kind of guy who apologizes when someone bumps into him.

Why would Dahlia Kingsley — a red-haired goddess in heels — kiss me?

I imagined her laughing about it later.

Telling her friends: “He actually thought I liked him.”

I wanted to disappear. I wanted to cry.

---

That night, I didn’t reply any of her texts.

Didn’t reply to Araceli’s voice note.

Didn’t eat dinner.

I just lay in bed, wrapped in my blanket like it could protect me from being pathetic.

I hated how much it hurt.

---

The next morning, I showed up late to work.

Didn’t shave. Didn’t smile. Didn’t make eye contact.

I was halfway to my desk when I heard Araceli’s voice echo from behind me — loud and sharp.

“Hey! HEY! What the hell happened?!”

I turned. She stormed toward me, heels clacking like she was about to arrest someone.

Her eyes scanned my face. “You’ve been crying. Who do I fight?”

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

“You are so not fine.”

Then she pulled me aside, gripping my arms. “Tell me what happened.”

I told her everything. The conversation with Liam. The way it broke me. The way I started to believe I was a joke.

When I finished, she was shaking.

“Oh hell no,” she growled. “He said what?”

“Araceli—please don’t make it worse.”

“You think this can get worse?!” she snapped. “You're heartbroken over some jealous finance bro’s trash mouth, and she has no idea he said that to you.”

“I don’t want to bother her with it.”

Araceli gave me a look like I’d personally offended her ancestors.

“You are the bother. You’re her emotional damage teddy bear. She kissed you. She wants you. She sent you snacks, Noah.”

“I don’t—”

“Stay here. I'll find out of she's just playing with you.”

And she marched off like a woman with a plan. I tried to stop her, but I was too slow.

She disappeared behind Dahlia’s office door.

I could only imagine what happened in there.

Whatever it was… the effect was instant.

Fifteen minutes later, Dahlia’s door slammed open.

Everyone turned.

And then — I stopped breathing.

She walked out in heels so sharp they could cut through egos. Her suit was blood red. Her lipstick matched.

And she was livid.

Every step toward me echoed.

The room fell silent. It looked like I was about to get fired.

Then — in front of the whole office — she reached for my tie, yanked me forward by the knot, and kissed me.

Hard.

Gasps. Whispers. One guy actually dropped his coffee.

I melted into her, my body going slack under her grip. My mind exploded with static. Her kiss was fire. Possession. A declaration of war.

She pulled back, breathing hard.

Her voice dropped like a blade.

“If anyone in this office — anyone — has something to say about me and Noah, I’d suggest you say it now, to my face.”

Silence.

“Liam?” she purred, looking over my shoulder.

He choked.

She smiled — slow and lethal. “Didn’t think so.”

Then she turned back to me.

Her fingers slid into my hair, and she leaned in again, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You belong to me.”

That was the moment everything changed.

Phones started buzzing. Someone snapped a picture. A headline hit social media minutes later:

“Powerhouse Executive Claims Mystery Boyfriend in Shock Office Kiss”

The image? Her fingers in my hair, my eyes wide, lips swollen, the office frozen behind us.

I should have panicked.

Instead, I just stared at her, stunned, barely able to breathe.

“You… didn’t have to do that,” I said shakily.

She looked me dead in the eyes.

“Yes, I did.”