We Will Love Again – Episode 13
The phone continued ringing beside Alaina’s bed. For one confused second, Noah’s name belonged to a happier year, when late-night calls meant whispered plans and an unwillingness to say goodnight.
Then she saw the time and remembered the desk outside his office. She answered with sleep roughening her voice. “Mr. Preston?”
Noah stood beside the windows of his hotel suite, city lights spread beneath him. He had opened three reports without reading any of them. “I need the original contracts for Crazy Maple’s active productions.”
“Now?” Alaina sat up and pushed hair from her face. The contracts were digitized, and Aaron had access to every file. They both knew Noah did not need her to retrieve them.
“You agreed to be available.” His tone left no room for refusal. “The physical copies are in the office archive. Bring them to my hotel.”
Alaina closed her eyes. She wanted to demand why he was doing this, but her job and every colleague’s future were entangled with the acquisition. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After the call ended, panic and anger broke through her exhaustion. Noah’s appearance had overturned the quiet life she had built from grief. Now he controlled her days and reached into the middle of her nights.
She dressed quickly and drove to the empty studio. The archive lights flickered awake above shelves packed with contracts, old drafts, and abandoned projects.
Finding the files took longer than expected. Alaina checked every title against Noah’s request, refusing to give him another reason to accuse her of carelessness.
At the hotel, polished marble and discreet security reminded her how far Noah had traveled from their small-town beginnings. She felt painfully out of place carrying an office box through the silent lobby.
Noah opened the suite door before she could knock twice. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, his formal armor loosened but not removed. The sight was achingly familiar.
“The contracts.” Alaina held out the box, determined not to step inside. “Everything on your list is here.”
Noah took it but blocked the closing door with his hand. “You came quickly.” He had expected defiance and found only weariness.
“You said it was urgent.” Her gaze flicked toward the untouched laptop and the drink on the table. Nothing in the room suggested an emergency.
“Would Peter approve of you visiting another man’s hotel at one in the morning?” Noah asked. Jealousy made the question crueler than he intended.
Alaina’s remaining patience snapped. “Peter has never had the right to approve anything I do.”
Noah went still. “What does that mean?” For years, he had imagined Peter as the man who received the future stolen from him.
Alaina realized too late what she had admitted. “It means my relationships are not part of Crazy Maple’s evaluation.” She turned toward the elevator.
Noah caught her wrist, not painfully, but with enough urgency to stop her. The contact sent five years of buried memory through them both. “Did you marry him?”
Alaina looked down at his hand and then into the eyes of the man she had never stopped loving. “No,” she whispered—and with that single word, the story Noah believed began to fracture.
