Arielle was early.
Noah arrived five minutes late, carrying a notebook and two coffees like it was perfectly acceptable. He didn't apologize. Instead, he handed her a cup without a word and started pointing at changes he'd made to the site layout.
She didn't drink the coffee. She hated not knowing the roast.
"You're assuming we'll build the glamping suites before the villas," she said, her voice sharp.
"It makes more sense for the topography."
"And more cost in rerouting utilities."
He glanced up, unbothered. "Sometimes the best way isn't the cheapest."
Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't get where I am by indulging in what feels right."
"Exactly. That's why you're here. To remember how."
His voice wasn't confrontational—but it wasn't deferential either.
And that made her want to both fire him and kiss him.
Instead, she did what she always did: regained control.
"Keep your sketches. But final blueprints go through my team."
He smiled faintly. "Of course. We'll follow the queen's rules."
She should've felt victorious.
Instead, something inside her stung.
Arielle wasn't used to being unraveled.
Certainly not by a man who drank lemonade out of mason jars and smelled like cedar and salt. But Noah Quinn had a way of seeing her that didn't feel like observation—it felt like recognition.
And that terrified her.
Back in her Manhattan office, everything felt sharper. The sound of heels against marble, the click of a Montblanc pen, the shuffle of assistants outside her glass walls. This was her territory. Her arena.
But her mind wouldn't stay here.
It kept drifting to the cliffs. To Noah's voice. To the way the sun painted golden streaks in his hair when he wasn't looking.
Her assistant tapped once and entered.
"Board members are waiting in conference room three."
Arielle nodded, tucking her emotions behind a perfect expression. "On my way."
The meeting unfolded with expected precision. Projections. Logistics. Budget line reviews. Arielle spoke with her usual commanding clarity, but her mind was split. Dual-wired. Part CEO, part woman remembering the feel of dirt under silk sleeves and a man brushing dust off her shoulder like he meant something by it.
She hated distractions.
And yet.
That evening, she poured herself a glass of something sharp and stood at the massive windows of her penthouse. The skyline gleamed like a crown—but it didn't feel as solid as it once had.
In the quiet, she ran her thumb along the edge of the bracelet she now wore every day. Nina's bracelet.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her back.
Text from Carmen:
Quinn just sent new renders. You'll want to see them.
Arielle opened the attachment. A series of sketches filled the screen—hand-drawn designs for the resort's interior spaces. But they weren't generic luxury. They were alive. Each room opened to natural light, raw wood beams, breezeways filled with green. Firelight in one corner. A curved bench by a window overlooking sea cliffs.
It felt like... sanctuary.
Attached to the last image was a note in Noah's handwriting.
"People don't come here to escape. They come to remember."
—N.Q.
Her heart gave a sharp, involuntary thud.
She tried to dismiss it.
But something had shifted. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
A week later, she was back in Halcyon.
This time, she didn't tell herself it was about oversight.
She told herself nothing at all.
Noah greeted her near the stone walkway leading to the orchard, wearing a navy tee, damp at the collar from the sun. He didn't say anything at first. Just smiled.
It wasn't the smile that undid her. It was the way he looked at her like she hadn't done a single thing to earn his warmth—but had it anyway.
"You get tired of concrete and came crawling back?" he teased.
"Temporarily," she said. "Don't get attached."
He stepped aside, letting her pass. "Too late."
She paused mid-step, something tightening low in her belly. "What?"
Noah shrugged casually, but the tension between them was anything but. "I mean, I already built a yoga deck for you. The attachment's implied."
She didn't smile, but her lips twitched. Barely.
They walked through the grounds. This time, she didn't point out errors or ask about timelines. She just listened. Let the place seep in.
Let him seep in.
When they reached the edge of the cliff, she stopped. The ocean was wild today—wind tearing at the waves like some invisible beast.
He stood beside her, close enough that his presence buzzed across her skin.
"You ever miss who you were before all this?" he asked suddenly.
She glanced at him. "Before what?"
"Before the brand. The empire. The mask."
The words pierced deeper than they should have.
"I don't think about her
Halcyon Bay didn't have paparazzi. But it had Edith, the café owner who doubled as the town's unofficial news anchor.
Arielle walked in for an almond milk latte and was met with a knowing smirk.
"You're the talk of the town," Edith said.
Arielle lifted a brow. "Because of my fashion?"
"Because of your flirting."
Arielle blinked. "Excuse me?"
"People say you and Noah Quinn have chemistry. Dangerous, forbidden, 'opposites attract' kind of chemistry."
Arielle stared at her. "We're working together."
"Mmhmm," Edith said, smiling. "That's how all the best love stories start."
Arielle walked out without her latte.
She didn't do gossip.
And she definitely didn't do love stories.
Halcyon Bay didn't have paparazzi. But it had Edith, the café owner who doubled as the town's unofficial news anchor.
Arielle walked in for an almond milk latte and was met with a knowing smirk.
"You're the talk of the town," Edith said.
Arielle lifted a brow. "Because of my fashion?"
"Because of your flirting."
Arielle blinked. "Excuse me?"
"People say you and Noah Quinn have chemistry. Dangerous, forbidden, 'opposites attract' kind of chemistry."
Arielle stared at her. "We're working together."
"Mmhmm," Edith said, smiling. "That's how all the best love stories start."
Arielle walked out without her latte.
She didn't do gossip.
And she definitely didn't do love stories.