SEEING SOMEONE FROM THE PAST
1390 Words
CHAPTER 18: SEEING SOMEONE FROM THE PAST
ARIA'S POV
I move through the motions in a blur. Bathing Jeremiah, getting him into fresh clothes, then rushing through my own routine.
I choose high-waisted charcoal cargo pants and a soft, cream-colored knit top. Practical for a long day of hospital meetings. I leave my hair down, letting brown waves air-dry around my shoulders.
As I approach the lounge, I hear Daisy's voice ringing out.
"You know, Noah, for a man with a fashion empire, you're not very chatty," she teases. "I've given you three great stories and you've given me three blinks. Saving all your words for Aria?"
I step into the room and almost stumble as Noah's piercing eyes sweep over me, lingering for a heavy heartbeat on the fit of my top before returning to my face.
My cheeks burn. Every image from the dream—
The dream. Don't think about the dream, Aria.
"Good morning, princess," Noah says, his voice deep and smooth as he stands. "How was your night?"
Daisy lets out a loud, dramatic gasp. "Oh! So he speaks! Ten minutes of silence for me, but the second the princess arrives, he finds his voice. Let me count how many…"
Noah offers a lopsided, arrogant grin. "Maybe you just aren't that interesting, Daisy."
Daisy's jaw drops. Then she points at him. "I'm beginning to remember why I never liked you."
She stands, pouting, and moves toward the hall.
"Aria. Stay with your visitor. I'm going to play with my lovely godson, who is both more fun and more communicative than this man."
She sweeps past me, pausing to squeeze my arm and whisper in my ear:
"He watched the hallway the entire time he was waiting for you."
She's gone before I can respond.
The room suddenly feels small and heavy with tension.
"You're early," I say.
"I am." He doesn't say anything more.
"You said nine."
"I did." A pause. "Are you ready?"
I open my mouth. Then my eyes involuntarily, treacherously track to the open collar of his shirt. The line of his throat. The place where, in the dream…
"Aria."
My eyes snap back up. "Yes. Almost."
He smirks. "You're staring."
"I'm not."
He gives his infamous smirk. "You can take a picture. It'll last longer."
I glare at him. "I wasn't."
As if it isn't his fault.
It's one hundred percent Noah's fault for being so… for seducing me last night.
"Give me two minutes." I say as I rush back in.
I go back to the room. Remy's sprawled on the rug with his cartoons, completely unbothered by the world.
“Mommy has to go finish the paperwork, baby. I promise I won't be late tonight."
"I'm going now, love." I crouch beside him. "I'll be back much earlier today. I promise."
"You… you pwomised yesterday too," he points out, not looking away from the screen.
"I know. And I was late. So this time I'm promising and saying sorry in advance."
He considers this. "Ice cream?"
"Ice cream." Just a little.
He tilts his cheek up for a kiss. I give him three.
"If you're late, then you're Pinocchio. Bye, Mommy! Bring me my tweat!"
I smile nodding. I ignore Daisy's knowing look and head for the door.
☆~☆
"You're strangely quiet." Noah breaks the silence.
I scrunch my nose. "Do you mean I'm a chatterbox? I'm always quiet."
He glances at me then back to the road. "What's in your head?"
You. "Nothing. I didn't sleep well."
"The new environment?" he asks after a pause.
"Something like that."
"Jeremiah was good this morning?"
I glance at him. He's still focused on the road, expression neutral.
"He was perfect," I reply, and because I love talking about my son, I continue. "He negotiated ice cream before nine AM, which means he's in excellent health."
Noah's mouth tilts up. "Smart kid."
"Terrifyingly so."
We speak all the way until we get to the hospital. The air isn't so tense anymore.
And I almost stop thinking about the dream.
☆~☆
"Mr. King, Miss Sinclair," Dr. Mensah, the head of physicians, greets cautiously. His posture is slightly rigid, probably intimidated by Noah.
"The cross-match results are back," he begins. "Compatibility is confirmed. Mr. King is a strong match. I've already been in contact with Dr. Ben's team in Paris, and the pathway is clear."
He folds his hands. "We can begin the procedure next week, if Mr. King is able to make himself available for the preliminary stage."
I grip the edge of my chair, my chest heaving as the heavy weight lifts off my soul. My baby boy is going to have his surgery.
"The procedure can begin smoothly early next week," Dr. Mensah continues, turning his eyes toward Noah.
"Everything is perfectly aligned for the bone marrow. However…"
He pauses, clearing his throat, as a flicker of hesitation passes over his face.
He looks nervous, fidgeting with the edge of the paper folder.
"Mr. King, I will need to speak with you alone for a few moments regarding the pre-op scheduling and a few legal waivers. Miss Sinclair, if you'd like to wait outside?"
"Of course," I say, desperately needing to step away from Noah's proximity. "I'll go down to the cafeteria and grab a coffee."
I stand up to leave, but Noah's large hand immediately catches my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
A jolt of electricity sparks beneath my skin where his fingers press into my flesh.
"You're not wandering around this hospital alone," Noah commands smoothly, his eyes narrowing into slits as he fixes Dr. Mensah with a terrifying, icy glare that makes the older doctor tremble.
"Noah, please," I say, pulling my arm away with an annoyed huff. "I'm just going down the hall to the cafeteria. The doctor needs to talk to you. I will be fine."
Noah's jaw tenses, his possessive streak flaring instantly. He looks like he wants to refuse, but seeing the stubborn lift of my chin, he snaps his fingers toward the door, calling for a staff member.
He refuses to rest until Nurse Mo—the polite, quiet nurse who had offered me a drink the day before steps in to escort me.
"Keep an eye on her," Noah mutters to the nurse, his voice heavy with a command that leaves absolutely no room for error.
Nurse Mo nods quickly and walks beside me as we exit the office and head down the bright corridor.
I let out a long breath, finally feeling like I can breathe without Noah's heavy presence crushing my chest.
I sigh, relieved. It's actually happening. Next week. After all the searching and the phone calls and the months of terror—
"Aria!"
A high-pitched voice echoes loudly behind me.
I turn halfway. A woman is standing a few meters away, looking at me.
I don't recognize her immediately, she looks different from the last time. Older.
Dressed in a tight designer dress that's inappropriate for a woman her age, her face caked in thick makeup that does nothing to hide the deep lines of stress and age around her eyes.
She looks frantic, and completely stressed. Same fake, giddy wealth she always tried to flaunt. She hasn't changed a single bit in four years.
Carolina.
My father's wife.
"I knew it was you!" Carolina gasps, her heels clicking loudly on the tiles as she steps right into my path. "What are you doing back in New York? Where have you been hiding?"
I don't say a single word. Turning on my heel, I ignore her completely, walking away as if I hadn't heard her speak.
"Aria, don't you dare walk away from me!" she shrieks, stepping forward to grab my shoulder.
But before her hand can even touch the fabric of my top, a broad figure steps out from the shadows of the hallway, blocking her path.
Matteo. So Noah has him in the corridor watching over me from a distance.
Matteo fixes Carolina with a lethal look that makes her freeze in terror, stumbling back a step.
Without breaking eye contact with the trembling woman, Matteo pulls out his phone.
"Boss," Matteo says into the receiver, his voice flat and professional. "We have a problem in the hall. Someone is harassing Miss Sinclair."
- Writer
