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"That's not exactly comforting," I say.
Noah pushes a plate toward me. "Eat. We both need to keep our strength up."
I take the plate but don't move to fill it. "You can't just drop something like that and then change the subject."
"What do you want me to say, Evelyn?" There's an edge to his voice now. "That I'm sorry? I'm not. Watching you kept you safe. And now it's keeping you alive."
"Why didn't you just talk to me?" I ask, my voice smaller than I like. "If you were so... interested, why follow me for months instead of just introducing yourself?"
Noah looks at me for a long moment, then something unexpected happens. He laughs. Not his usual controlled chuckle but an actual laugh that transforms his face, making him look younger, almost innocent.
"You think I could have just walked up to you at some fancy event and bought you a drink?" His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Look at me, Evelyn."
I do look at him—the hard lines of his face, the intensity in his eyes, the tattoos peeking from beneath his shirt collar, the casual way he carries himself like violence is just beneath the surface.
"People see me and they get scared," he continues, his amusement fading. "They should. I'm not the kind of man who mingles at charity galas or makes small talk about the weather. I'm the kind of man people cross the street to avoid."
I want to deny it, but I can't. The first time I saw Noah I felt that instinctive flutter of fear—the primal recognition of danger.
"The high-society violinist and the cartel enforcer," he says, shaking his head. "What would you have done if I'd approached you, offered you champagne and tried to charm you?"
"I might have given you a chance," I say, though even as the words leave my mouth I'm not sure they're true.
Noah's expression tells me he doesn't believe me either. "No, you wouldn't have. You would have smiled politely, made an excuse, and walked away. And you would have been smart to do so."
There's no bitterness in his voice, just a matter-of-fact acceptance that makes my chest ache unexpectedly.
"You don't know that," I insist, though part of me wonders why I'm arguing this point.
"I know exactly who I am, Evelyn," he says quietly. "And before all this, you were living in a different world. A safer one."
I stare at Noah, the realization hitting me like a cold slap. "So instead you planned to kidnap me and make me sleep with you?" The words come out harsher than I mean, bitter and accusing.
Noah's expression transforms instantly. The softness vanishes, replaced by something dark and dangerous. His jaw tightens as he steps back from the counter, putting distance between us.
"Is that what you think happened?" His voice drops to that deadly quiet tone that makes my skin prickle. "That I forced you?"
"You kidnapped me," I say, but my voice wavers. "You brought me here against my will and?—"
"And what?" He cuts me off, eyes flashing. "Did I force myself on you, Evelyn? Did I make you do anything you didn't want to do?"
I open my mouth, then close it again. The truth is uncomfortable.
"I have done many unforgivable things in my life," Noah says, each word precise and controlled. "But I would never—never—force a woman. Not for anything."
The conviction in his voice makes me believe him, and shame washes over me. Because he's right. Whatever else Noah has done, he never forced himself on me. Even when I was completely at his mercy, he kept his distance until I came to him.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, looking down at my hands. "That was unfair. You didn't... you didn't force me."
When I look up Noah's expression has changed again. The anger is gone, replaced by something that looks almost like self-loathing.
"Maybe I should have stayed away from you altogether," he says quietly. "I shouldn't have touched you. Not while you're here like this."
I watch as he turns away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Despite everything, I feel a strange urge to comfort him.
"Noah," I say softly. "You've kept me safe. You're still keeping me safe."
It's a strange realization—that despite being his captive I do feel protected. With Ivan hunting me, Noah's apartment might be the safest place in New York right now.