Chapter 18 The video!
The evening breeze drifted in through the slightly open window, brushing against Elena’s skin like a soft reminder of everything left unsaid.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands resting in her lap, unmoving. Her dress from earlier was still on, creased from the long day, but she hadn’t found the energy to change out of it. Her mind was elsewhere—circling, questioning, spiraling.
Why did he look so... hurt?
Why did it matter so much to him?
She had replayed the moment again and again in her head—Caleb leaning in, the air between them charged and wrong. Then, Jaxon bursting in, voice sharp, anger spilling like thunder in a too-small room.
She hadn’t wanted Caleb to kiss her. Not even remotely. But that wasn’t what haunted her now.
What haunted her was the fire in Jaxon’s eyes. That visceral reaction. As if he’d walked in on something far more personal than a staged kiss. As if it betrayed something he hadn’t yet admitted out loud.
But it didn’t make sense.
They weren’t real.
Their relationship was ink on a contract, a means to an end. A business arrangement wrapped in diamonds and expectations. So why had he looked at her like that? Why had he stormed out like she had broken something fragile between them?
A humorless laugh slipped from her lips.
“Get a grip, Elena,” she muttered, brushing a hand through her hair.
But even as she said it, her chest tightened.
Somewhere between photoshoots and red carpets, between fake kisses and public declarations, something had shifted. Something silent and dangerous had started to grow. And now, it was gnawing at her from the inside.
She didn’t know what was worse—the possibility that Jaxon felt something... or that maybe, just maybe, she did.
The thought scared her more than she was willing to admit.
Still, she couldn’t ignore it. Not after the way he had looked at her. Not after the way her own heart had stuttered when he turned to leave.
She stood slowly, crossing to the window, looking out at the dark streets of Los Angeles below. The city moved on as if nothing had happened. As if hearts weren’t twisting in places where they shouldn’t.
As if a fake engagement wasn’t starting to feel a little too real.
\---
The bar was dimly lit, with the low hum of jazz echoing beneath clinking glasses and hushed conversations. Jaxon slouched in the corner booth, his tie loosened, two empty whiskey tumblers in front of him, and a third halfway drained. His mind wasn't on the glass, nor on the bartender giving him concerned looks—it was spinning, trapped in a loop of the image he'd walked in on hours ago: Caleb’s hands too close to Elena, and her not pushing him away fast enough.
He raked a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply.
Why did it matter?
It shouldn’t. She wasn’t really his. None of this was real. Just a contract.
But the way Caleb looked at her—like she meant something. And the way she didn’t protest right away...
“Rough night?”
He blinked, slowly turning toward the familiar voice. Maya.
She stood there, all curves and danger, dressed in a slinky, dark satin dress that shimmered under the bar’s moody lights. Her lips were painted crimson, her expression unreadable.
“You look like hell,” she said, sliding into the booth beside him without asking.
“I’m not in the mood, Maya,” he muttered, finishing the last of his drink.
“You never are… unless you’re angry, drunk, or trying to forget something. Lucky me, seems like you’re all three tonight.” She signaled to the bartender and ordered another round. “Let me help.”
Jaxon didn’t resist when she slid the glass toward him. He drank. They didn’t speak much after that—just sat in thick silence, heavy with old memories and unresolved tension.
When he finally stood up, a bit unsteady, she caught his arm. “You shouldn’t drive.”
“I’ll call Damon,” he mumbled.
“No. I’ll take you home.”
He didn’t fight it.
\---
Jaxon’s Penthouse – Later
The city lights blurred outside his tall windows as Jaxon stumbled through the front door, tossing his jacket aside. Maya followed, quiet but watchful. She walked in like she’d been there a thousand times before—because she had.
The silence stretched between them as Jaxon stood by the window, his breath fogging the glass. “I really messed up,” he muttered.
“With her?” Maya asked, leaning against the kitchen island.
He didn’t answer. His eyes closed, his fists clenched at his sides.
“You always run when things get too real,” Maya said softly. “I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it.”
He turned, something broken in his eyes.
“I’m still here, Jax.”
Before he could respond, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. He didn’t move at first. Didn’t stop her. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone. Maybe he wanted to forget.
Their lips moved. Fingers fumbled. Clothes fell to the floor. The night swallowed the rest.
\---
The car hummed smoothly along the highway as the Los Angeles skyline stretched ahead like a promise. Elena sat in the passenger seat of Brielle’s black convertible, her face shaded by oversized sunglasses, her fingers absentmindedly scrolling through her phone.
Brielle, ever the morning spark plug, was chewing on a stick of gum, her music low and her head bobbing slightly to the beat. “Okay, spill it,” she said, glancing sideways with a knowing grin. “What’s got your forehead wrinkled like that?”
Elena sighed, turning toward her. “It’s Jaxon. Yesterday.”
Brielle perked up immediately. “Jaxon? What happened?”
“He came to pick me up for the food tasting, remember?” Elena began, pulling her seatbelt a little tighter. “Only… I forgot. I was in the middle of talking to Caleb.”
Brielle narrowed her eyes. “Talking?”
Elena shot her a sharp look. “It wasn’t like that. Caleb tried to kiss me—”
“What?” Brielle swerved slightly before regaining control. “That slimeball!”
“Yeah, and right as he leaned in, Jaxon walked in.” Elena ran her hand through her hair, the memory still hot on her skin. “He completely lost it. I mean, furious. Told Caleb off, there was yelling… almost a fight.”
Brielle’s lips parted in shock, then twisted into something close to amusement. “Okay, so… he cares.”
Elena frowned. “It’s not supposed to matter. He knows this isn’t real.”
“Oh, honey,” Brielle said with a wink, “nothing about yesterday sounded fake.”
Before Elena could reply, her phone vibrated in her lap.
Unknown Number
You should see what your “fiancé” was doing while you were thinking about him last night.
Elena blinked. Her breath slowed. Her finger hovered before she tapped the message. A video file loaded.
She hesitated.
Brielle noticed the sudden stillness. “What is it?”
Elena didn’t answer. She tapped the play button.
The screen came alive. Jaxon. Maya. His penthouse. Clothes falling. Touches exchanged. Movements intimate and raw. No mistaking what it was. No chance to deny it.
Her breath caught. Her heart dropp
ed.
“Elena?” Brielle asked, confused now. “What is it? What did you see?”
But Elena couldn’t speak.
The video ended.
The silence roared.