THIS IS FATE
1698 Words
THIRD PERSON POV
Inside the private office, the atmosphere is stifling.
Dr. Mensah feels a cold sweat breaking out across the back of his neck as he stands before Noah Kings.
The overwhelming pressure of the billionaire’s aura is enough to make a man break into tears, and right now, Dr. Mensah ’s hands are shaking uncontrollably, he has to press them flat against the top of his desk.
A monumental secret that has utterly shattered his decades of medical experience is lying in the folder in front of him.
Dr. Mensah looks up, his throat completely dry as he meets Noah’s impatient dark eyes.
The billionaire is pacing like a caged predator, his mind clearly out in the hallway with the girl.
The way Mr. Kings looks at that woman, the undeniable possessive madness in his eyes, tells Dr. Mensah everything he needs to know. There is a deep, tangled history here.
He'd rehearsed his words earlier this morning. But right now, he seemed tongue-tied.
When the result had come back from the lab, Dr Mensah had called it a mistake. He had run the panels himself again, personally supervising the sequencing.
But the data was without error.
Noah Kings and the little boy from Paris, Jeremiah, shared a 99.9% biological match.
He opens his mouth, his courage finally returning.
“Mr King.”
Noah stops pacing and looks at him.
Dr. Mensah takes a breath. "In addition to the compatibility confirmation, there is a finding I believe—"
Ring. Ring
The phone on the desk vibrates violently. Noah snaps it up instantly, his brow furrowing into angry knots as he listens to the voice on the other end.
"I'll be right there," Noah snaps into the phone, his voice a terrifying growl.
"Forward whatever documentation you have to my assistant," he says, already moving. "Jane will be in touch."
"Sir, I—" Dr. Mensah calls, desperation pulling at his voice. "It's important. If you have just a moment—"
"Well I don't," Noah growls. And he is out in furious strides.
Dr. Mensah collapses back into his leather chair, letting out a long, ragged breath, his chest heaving as the crushing tension finally leaves the room.
The door to the office opens again, Dr Evans first thought Noah is back but it happens to be his assistant, Dr. Evans.
Evans’ face is pale, his eyes wide with anxiety. They are the only two people in the hospital who know the truth.
"Did you tell him?" Evans whispers anxiously, rushing over to the desk. "How did he take it? Is he going to see the boy?"
Dr. Mensah shakes his head slowly, his hands still trembling as he closes the thick medical folder.
"No," Dr. Mensah murmurs, his voice hollow. "I couldn't summon the courage to say it and when I finally did, he left."
"What are we going to do now?" Evans asks, his voice frantic. "Schedule something? His assistant—"
"And tell her what?" Dr. Mensah looks up. "That her boss has a child he doesn't know exists? Over an appointment request?"
"So what do we do?" Evans asks.
The question settles in the room between them.
Dr. Mensah closes the file, slides it into the desk drawer and turns the small key.
"We do nothing," he says.
"Sir—"
"We do nothing," he repeats, quietly. "These things—" he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "These things have a way of finding the light on their own, when the time is right.
If it's meant to be known, it will be." He places the key on his desk. "This is fate, not ours to force."
Evans says nothing for a long moment. "And if he finds out we knew?"
Dr. Mensah looks at the door through which Noah had walked out earlier.
He remembers the young man overbearing aura and control.
"Let us hope," he says, very quietly, "that by then, he already understands why.
☆~☆
ARIA'S POV
Matteo gives Carolina a lethal look that makes her freeze in terror, stumbling back steps.
Without breaking eye contact with the trembling woman, Matteo pulls out his phone.
"Boss," he says into the receiver, his voice flat and professional. "We have a problem in the hall. Someone is harassing Miss Sinclair."
“Wow. Wow.” She folds her arms, eyes dragging over me with open disgust. “Aria, this is what you do now? You've upgrade to sugar daddies now?”
Matteo steps forward and Carolina stops talking immediately.
“You will keep your mouth shut,” he begins.
Carolina swallows. “I was just—”
“—leaving,” Matteo cuts in smoothly.
He tilts his head slightly. “Let me make something clear,” he continues. “You do not approach her. You do not speak to her. You do not exist in her direction again.”
Carolina tries to recover. “You think I’m scared of—”
“Yes,” Matteo says simply, interrupting her false bravado. “And you should be.”
I'm still shocked about seeing Carolina. My stomach twists. I knew I might cross paths with my ex-family someday, but I didn't know it'd be so soon.
One minute, my heart was pounding from the positive feedback about Remy's surgery and the next Carolina.
The woman who stole my father. The woman who made my childhood a living hell.
"Matteo," I say, my voice tight. "Let her go. I don't have time for this. Her noises are starting to call attention to us. And I… I shouldn't let her ruin my good mood."
I don't exchange one word with Carolina as I leave the cafeteria with Nurse Mo beside me.
I turn the corner and nearly walk into Noah's chest.
He catches me before I stumble, his hands steady on my arms.
His eyes move over my face in one fast sweep, and whatever he finds there makes something shift in his jaw.
He looks past me.
"Who is that?" His voice is hard.
"It's no one important. I don't want to talk about it." I pull myself from his hold.
Noah doesn't move. His gaze is still fixed over my shoulder, then he gives the nurse beside me a look.
"Mr. King." Nurse Mo instinctively takes a step back.
Noah looks at me. "You know who."
"Noah." I look at him in the eye. "It doesn't matter. Can we go?"
He stares at me longer than necessary. Then his gaze shifts to Matteo giving him a strange look to which Matteo nods.
Noah grabs me by the hand decisively and the next thing I know I was led to a private consultation room.
He stands in front of me, a few inches from where I rest against the door, his hands folded across his chest, waiting.
"I already said it's no one important," I mutter, frustrated.
"Aria."
"Noah. You don’t get to interrogate me, I'm not—”
He growls. “Everything about you is mine—even your mood. Do I need to remind you about that? About what you gave away?
Are you going to start talking, or do I find out myself?”
He looks at me, unimpressed. "You're upset. And no one has the right to upset you except me.
No one gets that kind of reaction or any kind from you.”
He takes another step closer. Now I’m pressed against the door.
My breath catches. “You are overstepping —”
“Oh! Are we going there?”
“It’s Carolina,” I say, exasperated. “Okay? That’s all.”
He blinks, I can see the wheels turning in his head.
“My dad's wife.” I helped him out. “Happy now?” I huff.
“Oh.” He remarks, looking less tensed. “What was she doing here?”
I didn't respond.
“We’re moving him.”
I blink. “What?”
"To a more private, fully secured space. My mum has a medical hospital—"
"Noah, no."
He turns. "It's better resourced than—"
"Dr. Mensah is one of the best hematologists in the country," I interject.
"Remy's care has been coordinated around him. His team, his protocols, his relationship with Dr. Ben in Paris." I shake my head. "I'm not uprooting all of that because of one uncomfortable moment in a cafeteria."
"It's not about the cafeteria."
"Then what's it about?"
He looks at me steadily. "You.”
“It's about the fact that you were upset and went white."
"I did not go white—"
"You did. You were sad."
How does he see everything? How does he know me better than I know myself?
I press my lips together. Noah's gaze goes there, his eyes dilating. He's watching my lips.
He looks at me steadily. "You know," he drawls, his voice dropping lower, "you've been doing a good job of not meeting my eyes. Care to share why?"
"I'm looking at you right now."
"You're looking at my chin."
I raise my eyes, meeting his gaze.His eyes are so dark I can't see the color anymore. Just hunger.
"Better?" My heart pounds in my chest. So hard, I pray he doesn't hear it.
"Last night," he starts, his voice dropping to a growl as he moves forward, pressing me to the door. I can feel his heat. His presence. It's overwhelming.
I have to tilt my head backward.
"When I had you against the car—"
"Nothing happened," I interrupt quickly, not wanting to bring it up.
Because bringing it up brings back how good it felt and the memory of the dream. Oh My God, the dream!
"I'm aware of that." His hand slides up my throat slowly, his thumb brushing over my pulse. "And that is likely not going to happen again."
I blink, confused. "What…"
"You, escaping from me," he replies. His thumb presses harder to my pulse. "And I really do think I deserve some interest so far. Don't you think?"
"Well, thank you?"
He smirks. "Let me teach you how to thank me better," he says.
His lips close over mine.
- Writer
