Rassel tried to focus on her work, but her thoughts were a tangled mess. No matter how many times she told herself it meant nothing, the memory of Noah's hands on her waist, the warmth of his forehead kiss, and the spark in his eyes refused to fade.
"I'm not in love. I can't be in love with Noah," she whispered under her breath. "It was just a moment.
But even as she repeated the words, she knew they rang hollow.
It was Noah's final day at the hotel, a thought that should have brought her relief. Instead, there was an odd weight pressing down on her chest, a part of her unwilling to admit what she was truly feeling.
She carried herself with more ease that morning, her smile no longer forced. Free from the fear of being scolded or dismissed, she moved through her duties with quiet grace. And Noah noticed.
When she entered his suite, arms full of fresh linens, his eyes trailed over her figure in a way that was no longer subtle.
"You know," he said, leaning back on the couch, "that uniform of yours… looks dangerously good on you."
Rassel's breath caught. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. "Thank you, sir," she replied softly, trying to keep it professional.
But something shifted in the air between them.
Their conversation flowed naturally, lighter than it had ever been. They teased. They laughed. She forgot, just for a moment, that he was a celebrity and she was just a hotel staffer. For once, it felt like they were simply two people, sharing space.
Then he stood.
With slow, deliberate steps, he moved toward her. "It's what?" he asked, echoing something they'd joked about moments earlier, but now his voice had changed lower, softer.
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.
His hand slipped around her waist. Her breath hitched. She froze.
He kissed her forehead, and the world around her tilted.
"I like you, Rassel," he murmured. "I don't know what's happening, but... I like you."
She looked up at him, startled. "You don't have to say that," she whispered. "Not just because of how things feel right now."
But his gaze didn't waver. "Can I kiss you?"
Her answer was barely a nod, but it was enough.
His lips found hers, and time seemed to blur. The kiss was deep, full of unspoken longing, and it stole her breath away. His touch traveled down her arms, then lower, leaving fire in its wake. She responded without thinking, her body betraying her caution.
Her uniform, once a symbol of discipline, now felt too tight. Too in the way.
She knew it was wrong. He was a public figure. She was no one. But in that moment, reason lost to desire.
"Maybe it's okay to enjoy it," she told herself. "It won't mean anything later. Just this once."
Noah was gentle yet sure, unwrapping her piece by piece, exploring her as if trying to memorize every inch. She gave herself to him, swept up in the tenderness, in the sensation of being truly seen and wanted.
When it ended, they lay in the afterglow, he leaned in to kiss her again.
But Rassel pulled away.
She sat up, adjusting her uniform, face blank. With practiced ease, she composed herself, stood, and without a word, walked out the door.
Back at her post, her heart was heavier than before. Shame crawled over her skin. Her body still remembered his touch, but her mind refused to find peace.
Noah didn't summon her again.
Instead, he requested another staff member to serve him for the rest of the day.
The rejection was loud deafening.
Rassel clenched her fists. You knew what this was, she told herself. Don't be stupid. It was never going to be more.
To distract herself, she called Nuala.
"Can I sleep at your place tonight?" she asked, voice hollow.
Nuala's concern bled through the line, but Rassel brushed it off. "Just tired. That's all
By evening, the hotel buzzed with gossip—Noah had left gifts for every staff member.
Everyone except her.
Rassel stood still, watching as coworkers beamed over luxury perfumes, gift cards, handwritten thank-you notes. But for her, there was nothing. Not even a word.
It stung more than she expected.
Maybe I was just cheap entertainment, she thought bitterly. Not even worth a thank-you.
As she stepped outside, preparing to leave for the night, her eyes landed on a sleek black car idling by the curb. Her heart jumped.
It was Noah's.
She approached cautiously, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But then the window rolled down, and he was there, alone, in the driver's seat.
"You're driving yourself?" she asked softly.
He gave her a crooked smile. "I wanted to pick you up. Figured you might be shy if someone else was here."
Rassel blinked. Her instinct said to turn around and run. But something warmer pulled her forward.
She got in.
The drive was quiet but not awkward. Conversation came easily—too easily. They talked about nothing and everything. She laughed more than she should have.
When they arrived at her apartment, he walked her to the door. The night air was cool, but his hand brushing against hers felt warm and grounding.
Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Noah leaned in. "Can I water your plants?"
Her smile returned. "You know exactly what that means." She chuckled. "Yes, I do." Come in.
Their kiss was soft. Different this time—unrushed, tender. The kind of kiss that asked to stay.
That night, Noah stayed with her. No roles, no uniforms. Just skin and trust and something fragile between them neither dared name.
In the early morning light, as he dressed, he leaned in and whispered, "Your gift will be delivered to your doorstep."
And then, he was gone.
Rassel stared at the door long after it closed, unsure if any of it had been real or if she'd just dreamed the whole thing.