Jaxton paused, his gaze dropping to her hand resting lightly on his sleeve. His deep blue eyes softened as they met hers, calm yet carrying a flicker of curiosity. "Of course," he said, his voice low and steady, almost inviting. "What is it you want to talk about?"
Aneira shifted nervously, her lips curving into a hesitant smile. "Uhm... can we talk in private?"
His brow arched slightly, a hint of intrigue crossing his face. Whatever it was, she seemed serious, and Jaxton wasn't one to deny her a request like this. Without another word, he turned and began climbing the stairs, glancing back once to ensure she was following.
The corridor they walked through was quiet, and Aneira's steps faltered slightly as they approached a large, wooden door. Jaxton opened it, ushering her inside.
The office was nothing like she had expected. The walls were painted in deep, smoky gray, exuding a dark yet sophisticated atmosphere. A sleek, black desk stood at the center, neatly arranged with a leather chair behind it. One side of the room held a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, filled with books that ranged from law texts to classic novels.
Her eyes drifted to a framed photograph on the desk. It was of a younger Jaxton standing beside a woman with striking blue eyes and an elegant posture…clearly his mother. They looked so alike it was almost uncanny.
A mama's boy?
She wondered briefly, though the powerful aura Jaxton exuded didn't match that image.
"So," his voice broke through her thoughts, drawing her back to the moment. He gestured toward the seating area near the window. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"
Aneira placed the cup of coffee she had brought with her on the table, feeling her heart race as she stepped closer to him. She raised her head slightly to meet his gaze, her lips parting. "There must be a reason why you chose to marry me, right?"
Jaxton's expression barely changed, but something about the way his eyes lingered on her made her feel exposed. For a moment, he didn't answer, as though he were weighing his words carefully. Then, with a small, disarming smile, he said, "Of course."
"So, what is it?" she pressed, crossing her arms. Her tone was firm but tinged with curiosity.
Jaxton chuckled softly, his deep voice resonating in the room. "Because I found you attractive."
Aneira frowned instantly. She didn't believe him, not even for a second. There were countless beautiful women out there, far more glamorous and alluring than her. Why her, of all people? She didn't miss the teasing glint in his eyes as he watched her reaction.
"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, his voice smooth and playful. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer and reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing softly against her cheek.
Aneira froze, her breath hitching. The unexpected touch sent a wave of warmth coursing through her, and she felt her pulse quicken.
"You're not a fool," Jaxton added, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But some truths can't be spoken... yet."
She wanted to argue, to demand a real answer, but the way he looked at her, intense and unreadable, left her tongue-tied. Almost unconsciously, she found herself taking a step closer to him, closing the gap between them.
"Tell me," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her heart pounding in her chest.
Jaxton's gaze flicked to her lips for the briefest moment before meeting her eyes again, his jaw tightening as though restraining himself.
Aneira took a small step back, her pulse quickening. "I mean, you can't just find someone you've never met before attractive, right?" She argued, her voice trembling slightly. Her words, though strong in intent, barely masked the nervous energy coursing through her.
Before she could say another word, Jaxton's hand reached out, firm but gently, tilting her chin upward. His fingers held her jaw, his touch warm against her skin. His blue eyes darkened, locking onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
"I want to kiss you" he said, his voice low and rough, as though the words were pulled from deep within him. His Adam's apple bobbed, betraying the restraint he was battling to maintain. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there as if waiting for her permission.
Aneira froze.
Her breath catching in her throat. The memory of his lips on hers at the altar flashed vividly in her mind. She hadn't forgotten the way it felt, the way it had sent her heart racing in ways she couldn't even explain. She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.
Her eyes moved to his lips, then back to his eyes, which were no longer soft, but smoldering with barely contained desire. Nervously, her tongue darted out to wet her lips, a reflexive gesture that she regretted instantly.
Jaxton's breath hitched. That small, unintentional act ignited something in him, something primal. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her jaw, as though trying to control himself, but couldn't. "Aneira" he murmured, her name sounded like a plea on his lips. His voice was husky, laced with an ache that she couldn't ignore.
She couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
Her mind was screaming at her to step away, to say something, but her body betrayed her. Heat bloomed in her chest, spreading like wildfire, and all she could do was stare up at him, completely at his mercy.
What she didn't realize was that in her hesitation, in her quiet surrender, she had lit a fire within the man before her; a fire that burned hotter than any he had ever known.
Aneira immediately took a step back, grabbing the coffee as a barrier between them. Her gaze met Jaxton's, firm and unyielding. "Jaxton, I honestly don't know why you chose me out of all the women you've met in your entire life, but I hope you have a good reason for it. I'm not here to be your toy or your pet."
Her words were sharp, a clear reminder that she wouldn't allow herself to be used. Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Jaxton rooted in place.
He stared at the door, his jaw tightening. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.
Did she truly see me as a playboy?
Do I look like the type of man who toyed with women's emotions?
The thought made his chest tighten, a mix of anger and frustration swirling within him.
—
Ethan's Apartment
The sunlight pierced through the curtains, pulling Ethan from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing his temples as his head pounded from the hangover. Turning to his side, his body stiffened when he saw a woman lying naked beside him, her dark hair splayed across the pillow.
"What the hell?" he whispered, sitting up abruptly. His heart raced as he tried to piece together the events of last night.
Who is she? How did this happen?