Chapter 4
The restaurant Davis chose was hidden in plain sight.
A narrow entrance on the Upper East Side, all smoked glass and brass, the kind of place that didn’t advertise because it didn’t need to. Naomi arrived ten minutes early and let herself be swallowed by the room—low amber light, velvet banquettes, the soft clink of crystal. Everyone inside looked like they belonged to a different version of the city than the one she’d grown up imagining.
This was New York when it whispered.
She wore a black silk slip dress under a tailored coat, hair pulled back, mouth bare except for gloss. She wanted to look effortless. Like a woman who moved through rooms like this regularly. Like someone who didn’t feel as if her life were quietly tilting on its axis.
Davis arrived exactly on time.
He looked different outside the office. Looser. Dark denim, cashmere sweater, coat slung over his arm. Still controlled—but the edges had softened.
She looks unreal.
The thought landed gently, almost reverently.
He smiled when he saw her. Real this time. “Sorry if this is too…much.”
“It’s perfect,” she said, and meant it.
They were led to a corner table. Candlelight flickered between them, gilding his face, catching on the planes of his cheekbones. Naomi felt hyper-aware of her body—of how she crossed her legs, how she lifted her glass.
Conversation came easily at first. Safe topics. Work. Growing up. New York versus everywhere else.
“I didn’t always want this,” he said at one point, swirling his wine. “Corporate. Fashion. Strategy.”
“What did you want?”
He hesitated.
Don’t romanticize the past.
She waited.
“I wanted security,” he said finally. “Money without panic.”
The words carried weight.
As the courses came and went, the city faded. The noise receded. And the thoughts—his thoughts—grew clearer. Less fragmented.
She listens like it matters.
I don’t have to perform right now.
The intimacy of it pressed against her ribs.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
Her pulse quickened. “Yes.”
“How do you always seem…ahead? Like you know where things are going before they happen.”
There it was.
She took a slow sip of water, buying time.
“I pay attention,” she said carefully.
His gaze lingered. “That’s not all of it.”
I feel exposed around her.
The truth vibrated through her.
“I don’t mean that badly,” he added. “Just…you make me feel like you see me.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“I do,” she said, and hated how true it was.
They walked afterward, coats pulled close, the city glittering around them. Fifth Avenue storefronts gleamed like altars to desire. Naomi felt like she was moving through a dream curated just for her.
Outside her building again, that same charged pause returned.
“I don’t usually do this,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Let people get close.”
Because closeness costs.
She reached out then—slowly, deliberately—and touched his wrist. Just that. The contact sent a jolt through both of them.
His breath caught.
She didn’t hear a thought this time.
The silence was louder.
“Goodnight, Davis,” she said.
He nodded once, sharply, like restraint was a muscle he kept tight on purpose.
After that, everything accelerated.
They didn’t label it. They didn’t have to. Their days braided together—meetings that ran long, lunches that stretched, glances that lingered. Naomi learned the rhythms of his inner world the way one learns a lover’s body.
The debt is worse than I let on.
If I fail this account, I don’t know what happens next.
She shouldn’t have to carry this.
The pressure in his thoughts sat heavy and constant, like a drumbeat.
And Naomi—Naomi began to act.
Quietly at first.
She redirected a conversation here. Mentioned a name there. Smoothed an introduction. A senior partner began looping Davis into conversations he’d never been included in before.
Why is everything breaking my way?
She smiled, noncommittal.
At home, she barely slept. The ability followed her now—less a surprise than a companion. When she closed her eyes, memories surfaced that weren’t hers: a childhood bedroom shared with siblings, a mother counting pills, a younger sister’s laughter dulled by illness.
It hurt to know him this way.
It hurt worse not to help.
One night, she dreamed of her grandmother.
She stood in a kitchen filled with late afternoon light, hands steady as she shelled peas. Naomi watched from the doorway, heart pounding.
“You’re listening too hard,” her grandmother said without turning around.
Naomi woke with a gasp.
The first real crack came on a Friday.
A high-profile presentation. The room packed with executives who wore wealth like a second skin. Naomi sat beside Davis, legs crossed, posture immaculate.
The pitch went flawlessly.
Applause. Smiles. A handshake that lingered.
And then—an email.
Davis read it once. Twice.
His thoughts spiked, sharp and panicked.
No. Not now.
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
He stood abruptly. “I need to take this.”
He left the room, shoulders rigid.
Naomi followed, heels echoing down the corridor. She found him by the window, city spread beneath him like a risk.
“My sister collapsed,” he said. “They’re not sure why.”
Fear flooded his thoughts, raw and unfiltered.
Without thinking, Naomi reached inside him.
She didn’t touch the fear. She didn’t erase it.
She redirected.
A call returned faster than expected. A specialist suddenly available. Logistics aligning too neatly.
Davis stared at his phone, stunned.
“How—” He stopped himself. Shook his head.
This isn’t coincidence.
He turned to her slowly. “Naomi.”
Her heart hammered.
“Yes?”
“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Are you doing something?”
The room felt too bright. Too open.
She forced a smile. “Doing what?”
His eyes searched her face, no longer soft.
If she’s orchestrating my life—
The thought cut clean.
“I need air,” he said, backing away.
She let him go.
That night, alone in her apartment, the city roaring below, Naomi finally admitted what she’d been avoiding.
This wasn’t intuition.
This wasn’t empathy.
This was power.
And she was using it on the man she loved.
Her phone buzzed.
Davis: I need space.
The words blurred.
She pressed her hand to her chest, breathing through the ache.
Because even now—even after everything—
She could still hear him.
I want her. And I’m afraid of her.
And Naomi didn’t know which truth would cost her more.
