Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 238

“Make sure you’re at my place early on Saturday.”

His voice held a quick, eager energy beneath the usual calm he tried so hard to maintain. “Yes, Sir,” he replied without hesitation. “Should I wear something specific? Or… maybe nothing at all?”

I smiled faintly, my tone firm yet teasing. “I want you ready for the club. I’ll take care of the outfit.”

He cut in with a low chuckle, “Or the lack of one, huh?”

I didn’t flinch. “Listen carefully—starting now, you’re fully under my control. No casual jokes, no familiar banter, no games. Do you understand? One wrong word, and we start counting.”

The playful edge in his voice disappeared instantly, replaced by a serious, obedient tone. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’ll see you Saturday for a formal session at the club. Don’t give me a reason to regret bringing you.”

There was a brief pause, then his voice softened, almost reverent. “I won’t, Sir.”

I ended the call quickly, not allowing myself a moment to second-guess the decision. The screen went black, leaving me alone with my reflection and the faint hum of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Everything was aligning perfectly.

The plan. The club. The end of the season.

And all I could do was hope that, when it was all said and done, I’d still recognize who I was.

*****

As the weekend drew nearer, I couldn’t help but notice something different about Noah.

He was still performing brilliantly on the field—his focus sharp, his moves precise—but there was a subtle shift in him. The spark that usually lit up his eyes was missing. Sometimes, when he glanced my way from across the field, there was a weight there, something unspoken, like he wanted to confide in me but held back.

I told myself not to dwell on it, not to let it get to me. But every time he looked at me like that, I felt it—the quiet pull, the ache to reach out, to ask what was wrong, to fix whatever was hurting him.

Yet, this wasn’t the moment for softness. Everyone was watching. The media, the staff, the other players—all eyes were on us, waiting for the smallest mistake.

Whatever burden he carried, it had to be put on hold.

And I hated that I was starting to accept that.

So, as Saturday approached, I did what I always did—I shut everything out.

Noah had his world.

I had mine.

And mine, for now, was all about preparing for the night ahead—the event at the Dominion.

Micah would be waiting. The club, the mask, the ritual—it would demand a level of control I’d been losing lately. Maybe that was exactly what I needed.

If only I had known then how that night would truly end…