Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 158

Chapter 158

Aiden

At that party, it was only the sight of Noah’s pained little expressions and priceless, innocent face that stopped me from losing my temper completely. Honestly, if William wanted to throw around the word “old” like it was some sort of insult, he could keep talking. Old? Please. I was thirty-five, in a shape that made “young” seem more like a suggestion than a real advantage. I could easily outrun every one of those self-proclaimed “young men” there—and still have enough energy left to enjoy a glass of whiskey afterward.

And when William suggested I should “let Noah off his leash,” I nearly burst out laughing. To be clear, yes, I did have a literal leash—something Noah and I both understood well—but it was more about care and control than anything tyrannical. It was like tuning a high-performance engine so it wouldn’t blow up in front of the whole city watching. That was maintenance, not domination.

William, bless him, delivered his little speech with all the subtlety of a man unwrapping an expensive toy he thought belonged to him. Equal parts praise and accusation, wrapped in a soft smile. He implied, ever so gently, that Noah might prefer the company of their circle. He framed independence as some kind of compliment. I listened, smiled politely, and filed every word away where it belonged—in the back of my mind.

Dinner was a masterclass in maintaining appearances: tiny, delicate dishes served with enormous expectations. I let Noah try all the ridiculous hors d’oeuvres they pushed his way—truffles, microgreens, the whole pretentious spread—because I’m no monster who’d starve my boy. But I wasn’t blind. Some of William’s so-called “special guests” began probing him with subtle hints about sponsorships and representation. The usual dance—everyone trying to claim a piece of the rising star after I’d put in all the hard work.

Then a slick reporter asked Noah about “real” representation. Noah answered too earnestly, “I am bound by a contract.” Contract? I nearly dropped my glass. I nudged him gently—a soft reminder that made him jump like a kid—and he stumbled but recovered quickly, adding, “Of course, by gratitude and loyalty as well. Coach Aiden has been opening doors for me.” The group clapped like I’d just been handed a crumb of recognition.

William’s follow-up—“some doors are only opened by those of us who hold certain keys”—was civility dressed up as a challenge.

You did not just say that, you arrogant bastard, I thought, wishing in that moment I could shove a plug, sharp and twice Noah’s size, somewhere unpleasant on William.

For me.

1/2

5:22 pm

Crossing Lines