Chapter 3

Noah Caldwell stood facing the rear window of Salvatore's and resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair again. Instead, he smoothed his tie down and shoved his hands in the pockets of his Armani suit. He despised suits. A privileged upbringing and a lucrative business meant they were required, but he didn't have to like it. He'd much rather be in Raven's apartment in his jeans but, for what was going down tonight, it was vital he use class and distance from their usual routine. He'd had Gino set up their table in the private room and threw enough money at the man when he'd booked the reservation to close the restaurant tonight just for them.

He blew out a breath. Raven was going to flip out. She hated surprises, hated anything that didn't fit into her perfect order. And wasn't this the biggest whopper of them all? Yes, best friend of mine. I am the famous photographer you've admired for years, and the man who's admired you. For going on ten fucking years. Six of which he'd been secretly writing to her.

He'd had his reasons for not stepping up. Damn good reasons. He still wasn't sure this was a good move. There was more than the danger of losing their friendship involved, such as Raven losing her life if the wrong people caught wind. He was assured by the right people that things were finally settling down on that front. He'd never risk her, not for anything, but damn if he could do this anymore. Week in, week out. Dinners and movies and laughter. Pretending not to want her. Watching her fight the darkness and acting as if she didn't wish for more. He'd wanted to be that more for a third of his life.

"She's here." Max Gerard looked up from his phone near the doorway to the private room. "The car just pulled up."

Noah turned from his bodyguard and closed his eyes. Acid ate away at his gut while his heart shoved against his ribs. Ten years boiled down to what happened in the next ten seconds.

He glanced around the dimly lit twelve by twelve room. The only table was theirs, small and intimate, decorated with a white tablecloth and a candle. On the cream stucco walls were prints of Italy Gino's parents had brought over when they acquired citizenship. Noah knew because he'd once asked during a dinner to celebrate his and Raven's college graduation. The scent of chicken cacciatore wafted from the kitchen, rolling his stomach. How was he supposed to eat? Then again, that would require her sticking around long enough for dinner to be served.

Everything he'd rehearsed in preparation for this moment died on his tongue as she walked across the Moroccan tile floor in her black heels. His gaze traveled up her shapely legs to the slight hourglass curve of her hips, past her small, perfect breasts and briefly paused on her regal neck. He could spend hours kissing that spot right there.

She wore a red dress he'd seen her use for openings, one that fit her slender curves and stopped just above the knee. Her black hair was down-he loved it down-and trailed just to where her shoulder blades cut her back. Not for the first time, the contrast of her alabaster skin to her ebony hair stole his breath.

Snow White, she may resemble, but Big Bad Wolf was what lived inside.

Her red lips parted in shock. Her cat-like brown eyes, which had hazel flecks he couldn't see from this distance but knew were there, rounded as she froze inside the doorway. She looked around the room and swiftly back to him, clutching her black purse.

"Noah? What are you doing here?"

Keeping his hands in his pockets when he wanted to plunge them into her hair, he maintained a neutral stance and expression to not frighten her. He nodded to Max. His bodyguard left the room in silence.

He looked back at her and forced a swallow. "I think you know why. Take just a moment to think about it."

The arch of her brows drew together in thought. From across the room, he waited her out. He knew the moment the puzzle fit together in her mind by the subtle drop in her jaw. She figured out the algorithm in switching the letters of his name around. Noah Caldwell. Hoan Dwell. Had he encouraged chatter about his alter ego when she brought up the name now and again, her clever mind would've figured it out sooner. He'd deftly avoided the topic until the time came to tell her the truth.

The time was here and he still couldn't fathom it.

"No," she whispered and covered her mouth.

Was that a shocked "no" or an "oh shit" no? Cautiously, he stepped forward. "Yes."

She pressed a hand to her forehead and gazed heavenward. "I'm such an idiot."

He ground his molars. "You are not an idiot. I was careful not to-"

"Why?" she squeaked. "After all this time, how could you keep this from me? Why would you?"

Since she wasn't spitting nails or running for the hills, he walked to the table between them and pulled out a chair. "Sit and talk with me." When she made no attempt to move, he gently smiled. "I'm still the same guy you knew five minutes ago."

Several beats passed before she walked to the table and sat. Rounding her chair, he chose the one next to her instead of across. She set her purse down and avoided his gaze.

For the first time in their friendship, he touched her. More than a casual hug for a picture or shoulder bump. Just a graze of his knuckles over the back of her hand, but the impact was staggering. Her skin was as soft as it looked. Setting his hand back in his lap, he watched for her reaction. Her fingers flexed on the table, but she offered nothing else. She stared at the space between them.

He shook his head. "Still the same guy, Raven."

Her gaze lifted to his, the golden flecks swimming in warm cocoa. "Are you?"

Pouring them both a glass of wine, he leaned back in his chair, trying to find the words. "There are things about my earlier years that prevent me from being in the spotlight. Too much attention could draw out people from the past. That's why I have the pen name."

Her eyes widened. "What kind of people?"

The kind that killed his whole family.

Fiddling with the stem of the glass, he sighed. "The kind who would hurt those I love to get to me." Or get to a specific someone, but best he stick to himself for the moment. Having her undivided attention, he lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile. "It took many years, but that part of my past is being reconciled. I could no more tell you the truth before now than I could shut down my creative spark and stop taking pictures."

"You could have trusted me, Noah."

"I do trust you. It's them I don't. For your own safety, it had to be this way."

She offered a slight shake of her head, looking fearful for the first time ever in his presence. "What did you get into? What is this all about?"

"It's being handled. Which is why I'm telling you now."

"That's not an answer." She took a healthy drink of wine, her hand shaking when she set it back down. "When did this mysterious past occur? We met freshman year of college. You had to have been a teenager at the time to-" She straightened in her chair. "Was everything between us a lie?"

He took the barb and pretended it didn't rip apart his organs. "My withholding of this particular incident led to needing to lie about Hoan Dwell. Everything else was truth." For the most part.

A waiter came in and set down their salads. Noah kept his gaze on her while she politely smiled at the young man as if she wasn't about to freak out over loss of control. He waited until the plates were arranged and the waiter was about to walk off before speaking.

"Could you tell Gino to hold the main course for a little longer than we discussed?"

"Yes, sir."

Alone again, he studied her. He couldn't get a handle on how this was going. How was that for power? "Look at me."

She briefly closed her eyes before sliding him a look.

"One day I'll tell you everything. For now, just trust me that I won't hurt you. I lied so you couldn't be hurt." He should've kept the part about his past out of the equation, but to have her learn later would only make her irate. Reasonably so. He'd lose her for good. And later would come. He couldn't hide from himself, from this, anymore. He needed to see where this led.

More than that, she needed it. She lived behind control and reason, never feeling the magnitude of what could be. He hoped he was deep enough in her comfort zone for her to let go. He had his own control issues, but at least he knew why his were in place.

She took a bite of her salad, staring at the plate as she chewed. Hands down, he'd bet she wasn't even tasting the food, nor was she hungry. He picked up his own fork and ate, waiting for the next deluge of questions.

Setting down her fork a few minutes later, she was obviously done processing. He didn't think it would take her long.

"You're rich. As in millions. Plural."

Where was she going with this? "I've been a millionaire more than half our friendship." It'd never bothered her before.

Her gaze pinned him, lethal in its intensity. "From Noah Caldwell's adventure company or his inheritance. That guy likes jeans and hanging out. Noah isn't pretentious. Hoan Dwell is a whole different brand of rich. God, Noah. You could buy Texas!"

That was stretching things a margin, but she was pretty close. No sense in saying so. He didn't like the way she was using third person to distance herself from him either. "What does money have to do with anything?"

"I live in a two-bedroom apartment. You-" Her face twisted as she blushed. "I made Friday night dinners when you should've been at five-star restaurants." She glanced around the room as if just seeing it for the first time. "We're eating in Salvatore's."

"I like this place and your cooking. What's the problem?" It's not as if Salvatore's was a slum. Didn't she know him well enough by now to know he preferred fish fry to caviar?

"This is so humiliating." She rose and pushed away from the table.

He caught her hand before she could retreat, panic making him tighten his fingers. "Don't go. We're-not done." They hadn't even broached why he really brought her here.

She stopped and swallowed hard, gaze directed at the floor. This wasn't her. Raven looked shit in the eye and always came out on top. Pushed through problems like she fought her depression because she was the furthest thing from weak.

He ducked his head to look in her eyes. "I'm still the same guy." This was the third time he'd said that, but it wasn't sinking in. "Please sit back down."

After what must've been a severe internal battle, she finally nodded and reclaimed her seat. He drew air into his lungs, unaware he'd been holding his breath. Except now he had no idea how to touch upon the topic of-them. He'd had ten years to dredge up a trillion variations of this conversation, but none seemed right when faced with the moment.

Gino came out of the kitchen, wiping his pudgy hands on an apron wrapped around his girth. A wide smile split his ruddy face as he patted both their shoulders. "How are we doing, folks? Ready for my famous chicken cacciatore?"

Noah glanced at Raven for an answer, but she was frozen in her seat. He looked at Gino. "You bet. Bring it out."

Raven pinched her forehead. Noah didn't have time to say more because Gino returned and two steaming plates of food had been set down in front of them.

"You two lovebirds enjoy."

She flinched-actually flinched-and swiftly grabbed her fork as if to cover the move.

Alone again, he pushed the chicken around his plate and gave up. His stomach couldn't handle food, not with her sitting there as if he'd slapped her. He withdrew an envelope from his breast pocket and slid it across the table.

She eyed the familiar stationery. Her lips gaped open, as did her eyes.

He'd been on a shoot in Paris when he'd seen the design. Feminine, durable and unique, it reminded him of her. So he'd bought two boxes and became her secret admirer. At the time, it was the only way he could have her. He wrote about the things he wanted to do, how he ached to touch, and left it at sending one every year for her birthday.

"Open it," he said.

She hesitated, but eventually picked up the envelope. Her gaze scanned the paper. Confusion marred her forehead. "It's blank."

Was that disappointment in her tone? He'd wondered how the letters had affected her. She'd, of course, told him about them as they came, but she'd never given any indication to how they made her feel. Did they turn her on, make her want to touch herself? Did she blush when reading his words and desires?

He leaned forward. "You know everything now. What I want, what I've always wanted, and who I am. Anything else I wish to relay-or do-will be directly to you. No more cards."

Finally, her gaze whipped to his and held. Something intense and altering shifted between them. The charge hit his midsection and ramped his pulse.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and back up. She was thinking about it. "You've never-" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're friends. We've never crossed that line. You never gave me any indication you wanted more."

But he did. Oh, he wanted so much more. What started out as respecting her as a friend grew to admiring her as a woman, then downshifted into the fiercest need to have her. "Have you ever thought about it? You and me. More."

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly to be believed. "Well, maybe when we first met, there was attraction. But the buddy thing-" She shook her head. "I guess I just put it out of my mind. I didn't think you saw me like that."

"I want you." As if she hadn't figured that out by now, he decided to ram it home. Maybe hearing it from his lips would get her head in the game. Gel the truth.