Emma was talking about something in the car, smiling. Noah nodded, a faint smile on his lips.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Atlas Sterling had returned.
Three years. He'd spent three years getting his MBA in New York. And now he was here.
Just an old acquaintance. From high school, basketball games, family business dinners. That was all.
Why am I so nervous? Noah thought.
Emma linked her arm through his as the valet took the Ferrari.
"This place is incredible," she said, tilting her head back to look at the sky.
Noah gave a short nod.
Atlas's penthouse was at the top of one of the city's tallest towers. The digital code was still on his phone—VIP access instead of an invitation.
As the elevator rose silently, Emma talked excitedly. Noah just listened.
When the doors opened, music and laughter greeted them.
The penthouse was a massive open space. Floor-to-ceiling windows laid the city at their feet. Outside, an infinity pool shimmered. Inside, at least fifty people—mostly familiar faces. Same private schools, same social circle.
A DJ console sat in the corner of the terrace. A professional bartender worked behind the cocktail bar. Catering staff circulated with trays of sushi.
And right in the center... Atlas.
Noah's breath caught the moment he saw him.
He stood above the crowd—easily six-two, maybe more. His pale skin gleamed like porcelain in the low light. But what really caught your attention were his eyes—deep amber, fox-like. Eyes that had a sharpness that seemed to cut right through you.
His black shirt fit him perfectly, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a Patek Philippe gleaming silver at his wrist. Sharp jawline. Nose perfectly proportioned. Lips full, inviting. Like something sculpted by an artist. But his beauty was cold. Dangerous. Untouchable. Like an ice sculpture—flawless, but don't touch.
A woman stood beside him. Red dress, elegant. She was whispering something to him, laughing as she touched his arm.
Same as always, Noah thought. Always surrounded by women. Always that cold expression.
Atlas noticed them.
He turned his head, his eyes finding Noah and Emma.
He said something to the woman beside him, then walked toward them.
"Noah. Emma." His voice was flat, polite but distant. "Welcome."
Emma smiled immediately. "Atlas! Thank you so much for inviting us. This place is amazing."
Atlas inclined his head slightly. "You're welcome." Then he turned to Noah. "It's been a while."
Noah extended his hand. "Yeah. Three years."
They shook hands. Atlas's hand was cold.
"How was New York?" Noah asked.
"Productive." Atlas's lips curved slightly. It wasn't quite a smile. "And you? You're working at your father's company now, right?"
"Yeah. A year now."
Atlas shifted his gaze to Emma. "Emma, you look beautiful. You two are still together?"
Emma clutched Noah's arm. "Three years," she said proudly.
"Nice." Atlas's voice was flat. Emotionless. "Get yourselves a drink. It's going to be a fun night."
And he turned and walked away. Disappeared into the crowd.
Emma turned to Noah. "Same as always," she whispered. "But handsome, you have to admit."
Noah didn't say anything. He just watched the direction Atlas had gone.
Yeah. Same as always.
As the night went on, Noah tried to relax. Emma was talking with friends, laughing. Everything was normal.
Noah noticed Atlas from time to time. Moving around, talking to people, different women at his side. But the expression on his face never changed.
Like he's wearing a mask, Noah thought. Perfect. Flawless.
Around eleven, Emma looked tired.
"Should we go? I have an early meeting tomorrow morning."
Noah nodded. "You wait, I'll just thank Atlas and come back."
Emma smiled. "Okay, I'll wait on the terrace."
Noah looked for Atlas in the main room. He wasn't on the terrace either.
Maybe upstairs.
He headed for the stairs. He just needed to say thank you.
The upper floor was quieter. The music was a muffled hum here.
The hallway was dark. The first door was ajar. Light spilled out from inside.
Noah hesitated.
Maybe that's his room.
He approached slowly. He pushed the door open gently.
And his world stopped.
Atlas was there.
His pale skin gleamed in the city lights. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, the line of his throat drawing Noah's gaze downward.
His fox-like eyes kept their sharpness even half-closed—feline, predatory, dangerous. Now there was something else in them too: desire.
He was with a man. Handsome; dark-haired, tall.
Noah didn't recognize him. But he didn't need to.
Because in that moment, only one thing mattered: Atlas was kissing a man.
Their lips moved slowly—deep, passionate, unhurried. The man's fingers were buried in Atlas's hair, gripping tight. Atlas's hands were at the man's waist, fingers crumpling the fabric of his shirt.
There was almost no space between them; the scene felt like raw intimacy.
Noah felt like the ground was slipping out from under him.
But he couldn't move.
He couldn't look away.
No. This... I'm seeing this wrong.
But he wasn't.
Then Atlas turned his head.
Slowly.
His eyes locked onto Noah's.
His lips were still moving—but now his eyes were on Noah.
Noah froze. He couldn't breathe.
Atlas's eyes... inviting. Unconcerned.
Then his lips parted from the man's. Slowly.
Atlas's gaze deepened.
He was challenging him.
You saw. Now what are you going to do?
Noah stumbled backward.
His legs wouldn't hold him. He pressed against the wall.
His lungs were burning. His hands were shaking. His head was spinning.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But he couldn't.
He closed his eyes but the image was still there.
Atlas and that man.
And that look.
Nausea hit.
I have to get out of here. Now. Right now.
As Noah descended the stairs, he tried to arrange his face into some kind of expression.
Normal. Calm. Everything's fine.
But his hands were still shaking.
Emma was chatting with a group of friends on the terrace. A cocktail in one hand, cheeks flushed, laughing.
So innocent.
Noah approached. His voice wouldn't come at first.
"Emma."
It came out too harsh. Emma turned, her smile fading.
"Noah? Are you okay? Your face is white."
Noah swallowed. His mouth was bone dry.
"Let's go. Please."
The tone in his voice was pleading. Emma's expression changed.
"Okay. Okay, let's go right now."
Emma was driving. Noah stared out the window. City lights blurred past them.
"Is it serious? Should we go to the hospital?"
Noah shook his head hesitantly. "No. I'm just tired."
Emma's hand touched Noah's knee. Warm. Familiar. Safe.
"Are you sure? You're acting really strange."
Noah looked at that hand. Emma was always like this—worried, protective, caring.
"I'm fine. It was just... crowded. My head hurts a little."
It wasn't completely a lie. His head really was pounding.
But that wasn't the reason.
Atlas and that look.
Emma dropped him at his door. She watched him with worried eyes.
"I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest."
Noah nodded absently, his eyes still distant. He kissed Emma. Quick. Mechanical.
"Goodnight."
He watched Emma's car drive away. The red taillights disappeared into the dark.
Then he turned.
He opened the door.
Noah closed the door. The silence was deafening.
He stood there for a few seconds. Then he leaned against the wall. Slowly slid down to the floor.
He buried his face in his hands.
What did I see? What did I just see?
Atlas Sterling.
Someone he'd known since high school. Someone he'd sweated against on the basketball court. Someone he'd sat across from at family dinners.
Atlas who was always cold, distant, always surrounded by women.
With a man.
Noah shook his head. "No. I saw it wrong. Maybe... maybe they were just drunk. Just for fun..."
But that look.
Atlas had seen him. Their eyes had locked. And he hadn't stopped.
In fact... it was almost like he'd wanted Noah to see.
Like he was sending a message. 'This is me. This is the real me.'
Noah stood up. Stumbled to the kitchen. Pulled cold water from the fridge.
He brought the bottle to his lips but his palms were sweating. Some water spilled.
"Calm down. Just... calm down."
But he couldn't calm down.
Just that image spinning in his head.
Noah looked in the mirror. His eyes were red. His face was pale.
"Atlas Sterling... gay. But why does this affect me so much?"
Saying the word out loud felt strange.
"Atlas Sterling... I've known him for years. Our families have done business for years. We grew up together. And... and I never noticed."
How did I not know?
Weren't there any signs?
Noah's mind drifted back.
High school years.
The basketball team. Atlas was always the best—the fastest, the most talented, the coolest. Everyone watched him. Girls screamed from the bleachers.
But Atlas... Atlas never really looked at them that way.
Always short relationships. A week, maybe two. Then they'd end.
Everyone called him a womanizer. Said he didn't commit. Said he was cold.
But the truth was something else entirely.
Noah remembered a moment.
The locker room after practice. Junior year.
The older guys were bothering Noah. One of them had shoved his shoulder.
"Look at this, little Wells. Did daddy's money get you on the team?"
Noah had stayed quiet. He always stayed quiet.
But Atlas had stepped in. Cold. Calm. Dangerous.
"Leave him alone."
Just two words. But something in his tone. The older kid backed off.
Atlas had looked at Noah. "Forget it. Assholes are always like that."
And he'd walked away.
I admired him that day. He was strong. Protective.
Noah leaned against the table. His legs were still shaking.
The man I've known for years... a lie. Everything... a lie.
No.
Not a lie. A mask.
The real Atlas... was what I saw last night.
That man. That passionate, sensual kiss. That freedom.
Noah shook his head.
Maybe... maybe he's just experimenting. He spent three years abroad. Different culture, different people. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he wanted to try.
Some people are like that, aren't they? They want to taste everything. Push boundaries. Seek new experiences.
Atlas is like that. Always looking for something different. Always pushing limits.
This could just be... just an experiment. An exploration. Sexual discovery.
Noah tried to convince himself.
Yeah. Makes sense. He was free in New York. Nobody knew him. He could do whatever he wanted. Men, women... it wouldn't matter.
Just experience.
But that look...
And the worst part...
The worst part was that look.
That indifferent, inviting, challenging look.
Noah's lungs burned.
No. There was no experiment in that look. No curiosity.
In that look... there was satisfaction. There was freedom.
Like he was saying "this is me. This is who I want to be."
Noah buried his face in his hands.
It wasn't just an experiment. That... that was Atlas's truth.
And now I... what am I going to do?
How will I act? Who will I tell?
I... I don't want to tell anyone.
Why?
Why do I want to protect Atlas?
Noah slowly stood up. Went to his bedroom.
He lay down on the bed. Stared at the ceiling.
Okay. I've decided.
This didn't happen.
I didn't see anything. I just walked into the wrong room. Wrong time. Wrong place.
Atlas's private life is none of my business. It's just his secret.
Noah took a long, shaky breath.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be normal.
If I run into Atlas... I'll act normal. I'll smile. I'll say hi.
Nothing happened.
That's all.
I won't ask questions. I won't talk about it. I won't change how I act.
Normal. Everything's normal.
His phone buzzed.
Emma: "Are you sleeping? I love you so much. 💕"
Noah looked at the screen.
"I love you too," he typed.
Sent.
Put the phone down.
Yeah. Tomorrow everything will go back to normal.
I just... I just need to forget.
That image. That look. That feeling.
Noah buried his face in the pillow.
Forget. Just forget.
But every time he closed his eyes...
Atlas was there.
That look was there.
It doesn't mean anything. What I saw doesn't mean anything to me.
And trying to convince himself of that...
He fell asleep.