Chapter 3 - The Price of Being Seen
Noah arrived less than ten minutes later.
He came alone.
That should have been impossible.
Men like Noah Moretti did not arrive alone after threats.
But there he was, standing in the doorway with rain dripping from his black coat, his eyes landing first on Paulie, then the photograph, then Lyra.
He did not ask what happened.
He already knew.
Paulie gave him the envelope.
Noah read the message.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Lyra had seen him angry once before.
The snapped lighter.
The clenched fist.
The jealousy he tried and failed to hide.
This was different.
This was quieter.
Worse.
“Who delivered it?” Noah asked.
Paulie described the man.
Noah listened without interrupting.
Then he handed the photograph back.
“No more fitting today,” he said.
Lyra stood straighter.
“Yes, there is.”
Noah looked at her.
“Lyra.”
“You need the suit tomorrow.”
“I do not care about the suit.”
“Well, I do. It is my work.”
His eyes darkened.
“Someone threatened you because of me.”
“Then deal with the person who threatened me.”
“You think it is that simple?”
“No,” she said. “I think you are used to deciding what happens next for everyone around you.”
The words hung in the room.
Paulie looked toward the floor.
Noah stared at Lyra for a long time.
Then he walked to the fitting pedestal and stepped onto it.
“Finish the jacket,” he said.
Lyra took a breath.
“Arms up.”
He raised his arms.
Her hands shook as she adjusted the shoulder seams.
Noah noticed.
He always noticed.
“You are scared,” he said.
“I am angry.”
“They can exist together.”
Lyra looked at him through the mirror.
“You asked me why I did not have a boyfriend.”
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“I remember.”
“I do not have one because I do not want to spend my life making myself smaller for someone else’s temper.”
His eyes held hers.
“I am not asking you to.”
“No,” she said. “You are only making it dangerous for anyone else to come near me.”
Paulie quietly stepped out of the room.
Noah stood perfectly still on the pedestal.
The shop felt suddenly too intimate.
Too honest.
“You are right,” he said at last.
Lyra did not expect that answer.
“You do not own me,” she continued.
“No.”
“You do not get to choose who I see.”
“No.”
“You do not get to punish men because they ask me out.”
“No.”
His voice was almost a whisper.
Lyra lowered the measuring tape.
“Then what do you want, Noah?”
He looked at her.
Not as a tailor.
Not as a woman he could protect.
Not as something placed inside his territory.
“I want a chance to ask you properly,” he said.
Her heart betrayed her with one hard beat.
“A chance to ask me what?”
“To dinner.”
Lyra almost laughed.
“A normal dinner?”
“I do not know how normal I can make it.”
“You are a capo.”
“I am aware.”
“You have a man named Paulie outside my shop.”
“Paulie is currently offended that you called him a bodyguard.”
That startled a laugh out of her.
Noah watched her carefully.
Then his expression softened, only slightly.
“I cannot erase what I am,” he said. “But I can tell you the truth about it. And I can accept no for an answer.”
Lyra looked at the photograph on the cutting table.
Then at the man standing in front of her.
“You need to solve this first,” she said.
“I will.”
“Without turning my street into a war zone.”
His gaze hardened.
“That depends on what they do next.”
“Noah.”
He looked at her.
“I will try,” he said.
It was not the promise she wanted.
May you like
But it was honest.
And honesty, she had learned, was rarer than safety.
