The Billionaire’s Fight For Redemption (Noah and Sierra) novel Chapter 229

I take a careful breath in through my nose and another but it doesn’t help. I press my lips together, forcing myself to stay still. I refuse to draw attention. The last thing I want is Noah noticing me falling apart like some fragile mess. I adjust again, wiping my palm discreetly against my thigh.

That’s when he looks up. I don’t look at him but I feel his gaze land on me like a weight.

“Sierra.”

I close my eyes for a second, then open them. “Hmm?”

It’s the only sound I can manage. The only way I can keep the contents of my stomach down.

“You okay?” he asks.

It takes a moment before I can force the words out. “I’m fine.”

That’s the catalyst. Within seconds, my stomach lurches. I retch and clamp a hand over my mouth in panic and so that I don't puke my guts out on the expensive leather.

Noah immediately unbuckles his seatbelt, leans forward, and reaches for the call button.

“Don’t,” I whisper, fear bleeding into my voice.

“You’re not okay; let me help you.” he says quietly and presses the button anyway.

The hostess appears within seconds. Noah speaks to her in a low voice I can’t quite make out, but she nods immediately and disappears.

I hate this. Hate that he noticed so fast.

The hostess returns with water, a cool cloth, and a small bag. Noah takes everything from her with a murmured thank-you and turns back to me.

“Lean forward,” he says gently.

“I can do it myself,” I mutter, but the protest is weak, unconvincing.

“I know,” he replies. “Just lean forward.”

Something in his tone cuts through the panic. I do as he says, gripping the edge of the seat.

“There’s a bedroom at the end,” he says curtly, nodding down the narrow hallway. “You can rest there.”

I glance in the direction he’s pointing, then back at him. “Why didn’t Lilly sleep there if there’s been a bedroom all along?”

He shrugs, waits until I take a few sips of water, and then steps back like the last five minutes never happened. He returns to his seat and buckles in, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

He's so cold. So detached that, for a moment, I almost convince myself I imagined the concern in his eyes earlier.

The hostess returns, hands me some crackers, and quietly collects the empty items before guiding me to the bedroom. Inside, there’s a queen-sized bed dressed in luxury linens. I lie down, one hand resting protectively over my stomach, staring at nothing.

Why is he so confusing?

One moment he’s warm. The next, he’s ice-cold. Like the boy he briefly reminded me of over the past few days never existed at all.

The switch is so fast it gives me emotional whiplash... And this? this cements my decision. I need to stay away from him.

The moment we get back, I’m moving back to my place.