The drive to the seaside was quiet, the hum of the car engine filling the silence. Stella leaned back in her seat, her eyes focused on the city lights flickering past. Jackson occasionally glanced her way, his thoughts a jumble of curiosity and something he couldn't quite define.
When they arrived, the gentle sound of waves greeted them. The cool sea breeze brushed against their skin as they stepped out of the car. Stella walked ahead, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she made her way to the edge of the shore. Jackson followed, his hands in his pockets, observing her every move.
She stopped and gazed out at the vast, dark expanse of water, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight. "This place always calms me," she said softly, more to herself than to him.
Jackson stood beside her, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "You come here often?"
Stella nodded, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "Whenever life gets overwhelming. It's like the waves wash away everything—even if it's just for a moment."
He turned to look at her, the vulnerability in her tone catching him off guard. For a moment, he saw a side of her that contradicted the strong, commanding woman she usually presented to the world.
"Do you always drink when it gets overwhelming too?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing.
Stella chuckled, though it lacked humor. "Let's just say it helps dull the noise." She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "But you seem to have made it your mission to keep me sober."
Jackson shrugged. "Maybe I just don't want you relying on something that doesn't really help."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're quite the contradiction, you know that? A bartender who discourages drinking."
He smirked. "Let's just say I pick my battles."
Silence settled between them, comfortable and heavy with unspoken words. Stella broke it, her tone lighter. "So, why did you agree to come with me here? Don't you have a million other things to do?"
Jackson leaned against the rail, his gaze never leaving hers. "Maybe I just like seeing you in a different light—one where you're not surrounded by noise or people."
Stella blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond. Then, with a small smile, she looked back at the ocean. "Careful, Jackson. You're starting to sound like you care."
"Maybe I do," he replied softly, his words carried away by the wind but not lost on her.
They stayed there a while longer, the sound of the waves and their quiet breathing the only noises between them. Finally, Stella turned to him, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Thank you for coming. It means more than you know."
Jackson nodded, his voice steady. "Anytime, Stella."
As they drove back, the atmosphere between them had shifted—softer, more familiar, and filled with an unspoken connection. Neither said much, but the silence spoke volumes.
As they joined the highway, the hum of the car filled the silence until Jackson finally spoke. "Where am I taking you?"
Stella turned her gaze to him, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "What do you think?"
Jackson chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Aren't you worried your family might come after my life for this?"
She shot him a sharp look. "And are you scared?"
His smile widened, but he gave no answer. His unwavering calmness, however, spoke volumes, and Stella couldn't help but feel reassured.
It wasn't that she didn't want to go home—it was that Jackson's modest apartment, without golden chandeliers, priceless vases, or antique décor, brought her a rare sense of peace she couldn't find in the grandeur of the Stallion estate.
The rest of the drive was quiet until Jackson pulled into the garage. As the engine shut off, the sudden ring of Stella's phone broke the stillness. She glanced at the screen, and her heart sank—her grandfather was calling.
Jackson, sensing the tension, reached for the door handle to give her space, but her hand shot out, stopping him. It surprised him, but he stayed.
She answered the call, her voice steady, masking the turmoil within. When the conversation ended, she let out a shaky breath, her hand still resting on his arm.
Then, out of nowhere, she looked at him with a mix of determination and desperation. "Marry me."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, freezing time.
Jackson blinked, his expression frozen in mild disbelief. "What?"
"Marry me," she repeated firmly, holding his gaze as though searching for a flicker of resistance. There was none, only the initial shock.
"Why?" he asked, his voice steady but curious.
"My family wants me to get married," she admitted, her tone laced with frustration. "I've been delaying them for months, but this time, I can't talk my way out of it. My grandfather has scheduled a meeting tonight to set the engagement date. I won't let them decide my life for me."
She paused, inhaling deeply before continuing. "I know this is sudden, and it's not ideal. But just for one year. I'll compensate you—name any amount, and I'll make it happen."
Jackson studied her carefully, his expression unreadable. "You're serious about this?"
"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't."
The room seemed to hold its breath as he leaned back slightly, his calm demeanor masking the storm of thoughts brewing in his mind. After a few seconds, Jackson unbuckled her seatbelt gently and glanced at her with calm resolve. "Let's go upstairs first. You've been out in the cold for too long," he said, his voice steady but soft.
Stella's heart sank further. It seemed her fate was inevitable, no matter how hard she tried to escape it. With a faint nod, she stepped out of the car, letting him lead her upstairs in silence.
As they entered the apartment, Jackson noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor—the hesitation in her steps, the distant look in her eyes. He didn't push her further, knowing she needed time to compose herself.
He guided her to the sofa, his voice calm and reassuring. "Wait here. I'll run a hot bath for you."
Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the apartment, creating a soothing background hum. Moments later, he returned and gestured toward the bathroom door.
"Go take a shower. It'll help you relax. I'll have dinner ready when you're done," he said, his tone leaving no room for protest.
Stella hesitated for a moment before nodding. She did as he suggested, retreating to the bathroom. As the warm water cascaded over her, she felt a brief sense of relief, but her mind kept circling back to the decision she had made.
Was it a mistake?
The thought lingered as she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in one of Jackson's oversized shirts he had left for her. The aroma of a simple but hearty meal greeted her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt a rare sense of comfort.
Jackson glanced up from the kitchen counter as she entered the room. "Dinner is ready," he said, setting two plates on the small dining table.
Stella sat down silently, her eyes fixed on the plate before her. Jackson joined her, studying her quietly for a moment.
"Take your time," he said, his voice gentle yet firm, as though he knew she was battling her own thoughts.
Stella picked up her fork and began eating, her movements slow and deliberate. Deep down, she couldn't help but wonder if Jackson's calm demeanor and quiet strength were exactly what she needed to navigate the storm ahead.