Norah Fisher had no intention of answering the relentless knocking at her door. Only her parents and Lionel Ross even knew about this apartment, and she'd already told her parents where she was, so they wouldn't be worried.
But the knocking just kept coming.
Norah stood, ready to give whoever was outside a piece of her mind. "Can you just stop—" The words died in her throat when she opened the door and found Jamie Olson standing there.
"Jamie? What are you doing here?"
"Your mom mentioned you weren't coming home tonight. She was worried something might've happened, so she gave me your address and asked me to come check on you," Jamie explained.
His eyes landed on the red, swollen skin of her face, and his expression turned serious, a fierce protectiveness settling over him.
Norah quickly looked away, not willing to let Jamie see her like this. She missed the hard, determined glint in his eyes. "It's nothing."
"Who did this?" Jamie asked, his voice dropping low. Before Norah could respond, he guessed, "Lionel?"
Norah stayed silent.
Jamie's gaze went cold. "You went to see him?"
"Fisher Corp has a partnership with Ross Corporation. They're pulling out, and it's a huge loss for us," Norah explained, not entirely sure why she felt the need to justify herself to him.
Jamie stepped inside, gently steering her toward the sofa. Then he went to grab an ice pack and pressed it against her cheek.
At this close distance, Norah could see Jamie's striking features more clearly. She caught the faint, clean scent of his cologne, warm and solid like his presence.
"I... I can do it myself," Norah said, taking the ice pack from him to put some space between them.
Jamie didn't push. He asked gently, "Have you eaten?"
"No," Norah admitted, shaking her head.
Without another word, Jamie headed to the kitchen.
Curious, Norah followed, watching Jamie roll up his sleeves and start preparing a meal. She couldn't help the spark of intrigue. "You can cook?"
"Yes," Jamie replied simply, his movements skillful and practiced.
Norah watched him chop with precision, realizing he probably cooked often. There was something undeniably attractive about a man who was at ease in the kitchen. She'd once hoped Lionel would cook for her, but he'd always dismissed the idea, spouting some backward nonsense about how the kitchen wasn't a man's place. In all their years together, Lionel had never cooked her a single meal.
Jamie glanced back, catching her watching him, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Okay," Norah nodded, her mood lifting a little, especially as the smell of the dishes began to fill the air.
"Here, taste this and tell me if it's any good," Jamie said, serving her a portion.
Norah didn't hesitate. She took a bite, and her eyes widened. "I didn't expect you to be this good in the kitchen."
"Then have some more," Jamie encouraged, piling another helping onto her plate.
Norah dug in, genuinely enjoying every bite. "Weren't you planning to expand your business in Boston? Aren't you busy?"
She was curious—Jamie seemed to have plenty of free time.
"Not busy. Most of it's already handled. What's left is small, and my team can manage it," Jamie replied.
Back so soon and already mostly settled? Norah figured it had to be a small company. Still, she offered, "Jamie, since you cooked for me, if you need anything here in Boston, you can reach out to me."
Fisher Corp wasn't huge, but it had been in Boston for years and had a solid network. Jamie's company, just starting out here, could definitely use that.
"Alright," Jamie agreed with a nod.
Taking in the spread on the table, Norah went to the wine cabinet and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. "Good food like this deserves wine. Let's have a drink to celebrate."
"Sure." Jamie was on board with whatever Norah wanted.
Norah poured two glasses, handed one to Jamie, and downed her own. "Ah, that hits the spot."
She looked relaxed, like everything was fine, but Jamie knew she was using the wine to numb the pain.
"Cheers," Norah said, refilling her glass and throwing it back in one go.
After three glasses, she was dizzy and struggling to stay upright.
Jamie watched her getting tipsy, torn between amusement and affection. He got up to steady her. "You shouldn't drink that much if you can't hold your liquor."
Norah waved him off. "I haven't had that much."
"Okay, you haven't," Jamie said, keeping his hands on her so she wouldn't topple over.
"Jamie, do you know why? Why did he hit me? My parents never laid a hand on me, so why did he? I want to hit him back. I want to find someone to teach him a lesson."
"Alright, let's find someone to do it," Jamie said calmly.
Norah nestled against Jamie, surprised by how safe he felt, and burrowed deeper. A faint blush crept up his face.
He helped Norah into the bedroom and eased her onto the bed. Still clinging to his neck, Norah accidentally pulled him down with her as she fell back. Thrown off balance, Jamie caught himself on the bed before he could crush her—but that left him hovering over her, and the position was undeniably intimate.
Looking down at Norah, now out cold, Jamie's face burned even hotter. He swallowed hard, quickly retreating and covering her with a blanket.
His gaze landed on the mark on her cheek, and he reached out on instinct, only to stop just short, afraid he'd hurt her more.
Once he was sure she was asleep, Jamie stepped back to the window. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, his eyes steely and stripped of all warmth as they stared out into the night.
**********
Late that night, Lionel was speeding down the highway in his sports car when four or five cars suddenly boxed him in, forcing him to a stop. More than a dozen men climbed out, metal rods in hand.
"What do you want? Do you know who I am?" Lionel started, but before he could finish, the crack of a rod slamming against his car cut him off.
A sharp pain exploded through his head.
Norah jolted awake, sitting straight up in bed.
She'd been dreaming—dreaming that she'd found a group to give Lionel a taste of his own medicine, and it hadn't been pretty.
The shrill ring of her phone cut through the silence. She picked it up and answered.
Hattie Ross's commanding voice came through the line. "Norah Fisher, Lionel's been beaten up badly. Get to the hospital immediately and take care of him."
Lionel had actually been beaten up? Was this really happening?
It felt like a dream come true.
When Norah didn't respond right away, Hattie's voice sharpened. "Norah Fisher, are you listening? Get to the hospital. Now!"
