All Chapters of Your Lips to Mine #7: The Billionaire's Blueprint of Love: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I’ve always been the kind of person who focused on the task at hand. Work was a distraction, an escape, and I threw myself into it whenever life became overwhelming. The lines between personal and professional were clear to me, and I was good at keeping them separate. Until recently.Ever since that night at the café with Noah, where the space between us shifted, it had become increasingly difficult to keep everything in check. Our relationship, or whatever it was between us now, had crossed into unknown territory. We hadn’t spoken much about it, but the tension was there, hanging between us like a thread pulled taut.I had been doing my best to push those thoughts aside, to stay focused on the work. After all, there was still a resort to build. But even as I looked over blueprints and construction updates, my mind often wandered back to him. To Noah. I couldn’t help it. Something about the way he looked at me now, the way his presence seemed to occupy every space we shared, made it i

The night after the gala, the events still lingered in my mind like an unresolved chord—almost perfect but not quite. The kiss with Noah, the moment of shared silence afterward, and the way we had both retreated, pretending like it hadn’t just changed everything. I hadn’t expected the way it felt, how much it shook something deep inside me, but as I sat in my apartment, replaying the evening over and over, one thing became painfully clear: the lines between professional and personal were blurring, and neither of us seemed capable of stopping it. I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Everything between Noah and me had always been about the work. I had spent years building my career as an architect, proving myself with every project, every design. But now, with Noah, there was this... tension. This unspoken connection that had been there from the start, simmering under the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode. And when it did, it was everything I hadn’t expected. But as much

The city was wrapped in the soft hum of late-night energy, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement as I made my way to the office building. I had come here to check on a few final design revisions—nothing major, just some tweaks to the spa area that had been bugging me for days. But as I walked through the front doors of the building, something pulled at me, something I couldn’t shake off. The office was unusually quiet for this time of night, and I realized, with a small pang, that Noah had probably been here for hours. His work ethic was something I had come to admire—and, if I was being honest with myself—something I was beginning to find incredibly endearing. Noah had always been laser-focused, pushing forward with the project like a force of nature. I had seen him at his best—driven, confident, always knowing exactly what needed to be done. But there was more to him than that. There had to be. I hadn’t expected to see him tonight. He had seemed so intense earl

The morning started with promise—warm sunlight breaking through the scattered clouds, casting a golden glow across the island. It was the kind of day that reminded me why I loved my work. But by the time we reached the first construction site, that sense of optimism had begun to unravel. The foreman greeted us with a grim expression, his clipboard tucked tightly under one arm. “We’ve got a problem,” he said without preamble. “The shipment of roofing materials we were expecting this morning? Still stuck on the mainland. They’re saying it might not get here for another week, maybe more.” My stomach sank. Noah’s expression didn’t change, but I could see the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his jaw tightened just slightly. He was frustrated—I could feel it in the air around him. “What’s the holdup?” Noah asked, his tone sharp but controlled. “Storm damage,” the foreman replied. “The docks on the mainland were hit pretty hard, and they’re prioritizing emergency shipments. Our mater

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays over the island. I leaned over the blueprints sprawled across the makeshift worktable, my fingers tracing the lines of a revised layout. We’d been at this for hours—reworking schedules, revising plans, juggling priorities—but for the first time in days, it felt like we were finally gaining some ground. Noah stood beside me, his sleeves rolled up, his tie discarded somewhere along the way. He looked tired, but his focus hadn’t wavered. Every now and then, I’d catch him glancing at me, his expression unreadable but softer than it had been earlier in the week. “This could work,” I said, circling an area on the blueprint with my pen. “If we redirect the landscaping team to the spa grounds, we can get that area closer to completion while we wait for the materials to arrive. It’ll keep them busy, and we’ll still be making progress.” Noah leaned closer, studying the plans with a furrowed brow. “It’s not ideal, but it’s a