Chapter 43 A toast to the future!
Disclaimer: this chapter Includes sex scenes.
The dining room had fallen into a peculiar stillness—one that did not come from silence, but from restraint. Words hovered on tongues, glances lingered a fraction longer than necessary, and every movement felt deliberate, measured. The chandelier above them cast a warm glow across polished silverware and crystal glasses, yet beneath that warmth lay an undercurrent of quiet tension.
Jaxon was the first to break it.
“So,” he said, setting his fork down with careful composure, “what brings you to our home, Mr. Donovan?”
Caleb lifted his gaze slowly, as though he had been expecting the question all along. His lips curved faintly, but before he could respond, Richard cleared his throat.
“Mr. Donovan has just become one of our highest investors,” Richard announced, pride evident in his voice. “He brought an impressive deal to the table this morning and proceeded to invest thirty billion dollars into the company.”
A murmur of approval followed from Eleanor, who placed her hand lightly over her chest in pleasant surprise.
“I asked him to join us for dinner,” Richard continued, “as a gesture of appreciation for such a… generous investment.”
Jaxon nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “Hmm,” he said at last. “That’s… interesting.”
Elena, seated beside him, remained still. She had learned—over the past few weeks—that silence was often more revealing than speech. Still, she could feel Jaxon’s tension through the subtle shift of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened just slightly.
“And Mr. Donovan,” Jaxon went on, turning his attention back to Caleb, “what made you invest such a significant amount into our company? I imagine something must have stood out.”
Caleb dabbed his mouth with a napkin before responding, taking his time.
“Well,” he said smoothly, “I’ve been following Wentworth Towers for a while now. Your growth has been… remarkable. Consistent, strategic, and impressive.” He paused, then added casually, “Not to mention the visibility the company has gained recently.”
Jaxon’s brow lifted. “Visibility?”
“Yes,” Caleb replied, swirling the wine in his glass. “The engagement. It’s been quite the headline-maker. Investors love stability—especially when it’s paired with unity. A powerful family, a solid alliance… it inspires confidence.”
Elena felt Jaxon’s arm shift, his hand coming to rest lightly at the small of her back. The gesture looked natural—affectionate even—but she knew better. It was calculated. A performance.
“Well,” Jaxon said confidently, drawing her a little closer, “the engagement has been good for business—and for us.”
Caleb’s gaze flicked between them, sharp and assessing. “Speaking of which,” he said, leaning back slightly in his chair, “how are you two doing? How’s the whole couple thing going?”
“Oh, it’s been going quite well,” Jaxon replied smoothly. “Better than we anticipated.”
Elena caught the faint emphasis on we, and for a brief moment, something inside her shifted. She wondered—only briefly—how convincing they truly were.
“That’s good for you,” Caleb said after a beat. “Personally, I’ve never really believed in love.”
The words landed quietly but firmly, like a stone dropped into still water.
Elena’s eyes lifted to him then.
“Love isn’t something you command,” she said calmly, her voice steady as she finally joined the conversation. “It isn’t a transaction or a strategy.”
Caleb’s brow arched with mild interest.
“It’s something you feel,” Elena continued, “something that grows within you. And it doesn’t always require reciprocity. What matters is how it shapes you—what it awakens inside.”
As she finished, her gaze shifted instinctively to Jaxon’s. For a brief second, the world narrowed to just the two of them. The room, the table, the observers—all of it faded.
Jaxon looked back at her, surprised by the intensity in her eyes. Something unspoken passed between them—something fragile and dangerously real.
“Well said, Elena,” Eleanor chimed in warmly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “That was beautifully put.”
Caleb smiled slowly, though the expression never quite reached his eyes. “Wow,” he said, resting his elbow on the table. “Sounds like you truly love Mr. Wentworth.”
Elena did not hesitate.
“You have no idea,” she replied evenly.
The air shifted.
Jaxon felt it immediately. His hand stilled against her back, his breath catching ever so slightly. He turned to look at her again, searching her expression for irony, for playfulness—for anything that would remind him this was still just a performance.
But Elena’s face was calm. Unreadable. Controlled.
Across the table, Caleb watched closely, his smirk deepening just a fraction.
“How fascinating,” he said lightly. “To witness something so… rare.”
Richard cleared his throat, sensing the shift. “Well,” he said, lifting his glass, “to new partnerships, successful alliances, and promising futures.”
They raised their glasses in unison.
“To the future,” Eleanor echoed.
“To prosperity,” Caleb added smoothly, his gaze lingering on Jaxon.
Elena took a sip of her wine, the liquid warm as it slid down her throat. Yet inside, her thoughts churned. Her words had come easily—too easily. She hadn’t planned them. They had simply… emerged.
She wondered if Jaxon noticed.
Judging by the way his fingers tightened briefly against the stem of his glass, she suspected he had.
Conversation resumed after that, though it felt different now—guarded. Safer topics were chosen. Business. Travel. Industry trends. Yet beneath it all, tension lingered like an unfinished melody.
Caleb spoke often, charming and articulate, but Elena caught the way his eyes tracked movements, reactions—how he seemed less interested in the words being spoken and more interested in the spaces between them.
And Jaxon—Jaxon was unusually quiet.
As dessert was served and the evening stretched on, Elena became acutely aware of how close everything felt to unraveling. The lies. The rules. The fragile balance they were all pretending did not exist.
One wrong word.
One wrong look.
And everything would shift.
For now, however, they smiled. They played their parts. They endured.
Because whatever game Caleb Donovan had begun, Elena could feel it in her bones—
This was only the beginning.
The night had stretched far longer than either of them had anticipated, heavy with conversations that smiled on the surface and hid their sharp edges underneath. By the time the limousine eased to a stop beneath the penthouse tower, the city itself seemed exhausted—lights dimmer, streets quieter, as though even the world was ready to sleep.
Elena stepped out first, the cool night air brushing against her skin before the warmth of the lobby reclaimed her. Jaxon followed closely behind. Neither of them spoke as they walked toward the elevator, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor.
The elevator doors slid shut with a muted sound, sealing them inside.
Silence.
Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind shared by people who had nothing left to say. This silence was dense—crowded with words neither of them seemed brave enough to release. The elevator began its ascent, numbers lighting up one after another.
13th.
14th.
15th.
Elena clasped her hands together in front of her, her fingers twisting unconsciously. Jaxon stood with his back straight, his gaze fixed ahead, jaw tight. Anyone watching might have assumed they were strangers sharing an inconvenient ride.
The numbers climbed.
30th.
45th.
60th.
The stillness grew stranger by the second, until it became unbearable.
They turned toward each other at the exact same moment.
“You go first—sorry,” Elena said quickly.
“No, please,” Jaxon countered at once. “Let me hear what you have to say.”
Elena hesitated, then let out a small breath. “Actually… I was just going to say that it might be better if we talked about something before someone joins us in here.”
Jaxon’s lips curved slightly. “That won’t be necessary. This is a private elevator,” he said, a touch of arrogance slipping into his tone. Then, softer, “But I wanted to ask you something.”
Elena arched a brow. “Go on. Before I change my mind.”
He shifted, turning fully toward her now. “What you said earlier… at dinner. About love.” He paused, searching her face. “Was that really true?”
“Yes,” Elena replied without thinking.
The answer seemed to surprise him.
Jaxon exhaled slowly. “Then… would it be absurd if I asked whether that was how you truly feel?” His voice dropped. “You know—toward me. Or was it all part of the act?”
For a moment, Elena said nothing.
The elevator hummed softly around them, continuing its climb. The numbers blurred together, unnoticed.
Then suddenly, she laughed.
It was light, quick—almost too quick.
“You cannot be serious,” she said, shaking her head.
Jaxon stared at her for a second before chuckling as well, the sound easing some of the tension. “Of course not. No way.”
“Exactly,” Elena said, still smiling. “We had to make them believe.”
The words came easily. Too easily.
She turned away from him, facing the mirrored wall instead, her reflection staring back at her with eyes that betrayed far more than her voice had.
“Of course,” Jaxon replied, though his tone had shifted. “But you sounded… serious. Real.”
Elena swallowed. “That’s because I’ve had past relationships,” she said after a beat.
“Oh?” Jaxon teased lightly. “I can only imagine.”
She didn’t respond. She only watched the numbers continue to rise.
95th.
98th.
100th.
The elevator slowed and then came to a gentle stop. The doors slid open, revealing the quiet, softly lit hallway of the penthouse floor.
They stepped out together.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The night’s weight lingered between them, stretching the seconds thin.
“It’s been a long night,” Jaxon said at last.
“Yes,” Elena replied softly. “It has.”
They stood there, facing each other now, the space between them charged with something neither wanted to name. Jaxon noticed the way her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Elena noticed the loosened tie at his collar, the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.
“Well…” Jaxon said finally, clearing his throat. “I should go.”
“Yes. You should,” Elena agreed, though her voice wavered just slightly. She turned toward her door, then paused. “Good night.”
The words hung in the air.
It was the first time she had ever said them to him.
Jaxon froze for a split second, then smiled—a genuine smile, unguarded and warm. “Good night.”
She nodded, slipped inside her room, and closed the door behind her.
Jaxon stood there for a moment longer, staring at the closed door as though it might speak again. Then he turned and walked toward his own room, his steps slower than usual.
Inside, Elena leaned her back against the door, her heart pounding far louder than it should have. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself.
It was just a performance, she told herself.
Just a role.
But even as she repeated the words, she knew something had shifted.
Here is your text proofread only—spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and paragraphing corrected. No lines, actions, or scenes were added, removed, or altered.
Caleb came out of the shower with a towel on his waist, water dripping gently onto the floor.
A beautiful young lady lay on his bed, dressed in black lace lingerie that clearly exposed her body.
He walked to her and traced her skin from her legs to her breasts. Then he took a hard squeeze of her left breast, and she moaned softly. He placed his other hand on the other breast, and this time she moaned louder.
He pulled her by the back of her hair and said, “Make me happy.”
She replied, “Yes, daddy,” and traced her nails from his broad chest to his V waistline.
She untied the towel, and his hard master came into view. She grabbed it gently and glanced at his face before taking the whole package. Caleb closed his eyes, absorbed in the sensation all over his body.
He gasped for air as the sex worker moved his master vigorously in and out of her mouth. He reached for her ass and slapped it aggressively.
“Eat that,” he whispered, and tried to gag the young lady with his master.
A knock then landed on the door.
“Who the hell is there?” he thundered.
“Master, your mother is here,” a voice from the other side said.