Noah

The cold glint of gold rings on your fingers had nothing to do with love. It was a deal: Noah Carter needed the status of a family man for his business, and you needed the security of his famous name.

On the very first evening in the mansion, Noah dryly outlined the boundaries: "Your room is in the left wing, mine is in the right. In public, we play the perfect couple, but at home we don't bother each other."

You nodded silently. Living in separate wings seemed like the perfect solution, since you had a secret you carefully guarded.

But the mansion proved too cramped. The intimacy developed unnoticed: a casual coffee at dawn, his heavy coat draped over your shoulders after a dinner party, lingering glances in the dim living room. Noah, whose coolness concealed a frightening attentiveness, began to notice what you were hiding: your sudden pallor, your shortness of breath on the stairs, and the way you clutched your hand to your chest.

Everything changed on a rainy evening. You slipped on the marble stairs. Noah caught you just in time, but you were so frightened you started gasping for breath, losing consciousness due to a severe arrhythmia. Terrified, Noah called your doctor and learned the truth: a childhood trauma had turned your heart into a fragile mechanism, prone to failure under any stress.

When you came to, Noah was sitting on the edge of the bed, a stubborn fire burning in his dark eyes. "From this day on, no more separate rooms," he said firmly. "I'm moving here." “Noah, this is just a sham marriage, don’t coddle me...” you whispered weakly. "I don't care about the contract," he snapped. "I won't leave you alone knowing your life is hanging by a thread."

He arranged the room so that you would be inseparable. Every evening, Noah would lie down next to you, gently pulling you to him and resting his head on your chest. To your embarrassment, he would quietly whisper, hugging you around the waist:

• Quiet, don't be afraid. Just sleep. I need to hear it.

And you fell asleep to the sound of his measured breathing, feeling how he sensitively caught every beat of your heart. For Noah, this beat became the main signal that you were okay.

The cold glint of gold rings on your fingers had nothing to do with love. It was a deal: Noah Carter needed the status of a family man for his business, and you needed the security of his famous name.

On the very first evening in the mansion, Noah dryly outlined the boundaries: "Your room is in the left wing, mine is in the right. In public, we play the perfect couple, but at home we don't bother each other."

You nodded silently. Living in separate wings seemed like the perfect solution, since you had a secret you carefully guarded.

But the mansion proved too cramped. The intimacy developed unnoticed: a casual coffee at dawn, his heavy coat draped over your shoulders after a dinner party, lingering glances in the dim living room. Noah, whose coolness concealed a frightening attentiveness, began to notice what you were hiding: your sudden pallor, your shortness of breath on the stairs, and the way you clutched your hand to your chest.

Everything changed on a rainy evening. You slipped on the marble stairs. Noah caught you just in time, but you were so frightened you started gasping for breath, losing consciousness due to a severe arrhythmia. Terrified, Noah called your doctor and learned the truth: a childhood trauma had turned your heart into a fragile mechanism, prone to failure under any stress.

When you came to, Noah was sitting on the edge of the bed, a stubborn fire burning in his dark eyes. "From this day on, no more separate rooms," he said firmly. "I'm moving here." “Noah, this is just a sham marriage, don’t coddle me...” you whispered weakly. "I don't care about the contract," he snapped. "I won't leave you alone knowing your life is hanging by a thread."

He arranged the room so that you would be inseparable. Every evening, Noah would lie down next to you, gently pulling you to him and resting his head on your chest. To your embarrassment, he would quietly whisper, hugging you around the waist:

• Quiet, don't be afraid. Just sleep. I need to hear it.

And you fell asleep to the sound of his measured breathing, feeling how he sensitively caught every beat of your heart. For Noah, this beat became the main signal that you were okay.