Chapter 46 Breast strokes
Morning sunlight spilled across the marble tiles of the pool area, reflecting in ripples of gold against the water. The Wentworth estate was unusually quiet at this hour — only the faint hum of distant traffic and the soft splash of movement disturbed the calm.
Jaxon had come down to clear his head.
He had not expected to see her.
Elena moved through the water with effortless precision, her body slicing cleanly through the surface as she breaststroked from one end of the pool to the other. There was something almost meditative about the way she swam — controlled, graceful, unhurried. Her long black hair fanned out behind her in dark silk waves beneath the water, and when she surfaced for air, droplets clung to her lashes like crystals.
Jaxon stopped at the edge of the pool without announcing his presence.
He simply watched.
When Elena finally reached the end where he stood, she placed both palms against the ledge and lifted herself up slowly. Water cascaded down her shoulders and along the curve of her back, tracing every elegant line before slipping to the floor. For a brief, dangerous second, Jaxon forgot how to breathe.
Wet strands of hair framed her face, darker now, accentuating the softness of her red lips and the quiet strength in her eyes. There was nothing deliberate in her movements — no performance, no awareness of the effect she had — and somehow that made it worse.
A maid hurried forward with a towel, and Elena accepted it with a soft thank you, patting her face first before squeezing the excess water from her hair. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders, then slipped into her robe with composed efficiency.
Jaxon forced himself to exhale.
Without a word, he untied his own robe and let it fall onto one of the lounge chairs. The early light carved shadows across his torso, highlighting the definition of muscle earned through years of discipline. As he stepped closer to the pool, Elena’s gaze flickered — briefly, unintentionally — and caught the ink etched along his lower back.
A tattoo.
Minimalist. Stark. Deliberate.
She turned away almost immediately, pretending to be deeply invested in drying her hair.
“They want us to come in for the photoshoot,” Jaxon said evenly, though his voice carried a subtle roughness. “They’re planning to release the wedding announcement with it.”
“I heard,” Elena replied, her tone polite but distant. She focused on combing her fingers through her damp hair. “I’ll try to clear my schedule before then.”
There was a pause — not empty, but charged.
Then her phone chimed.
The sound felt louder than it should have.
Elena glanced at the screen.
Jaxon noticed the shift instantly — the faint lift at the corner of her lips, the softness that touched her expression. It was brief, but it was there.
He hated that he noticed.
He hated that it mattered.
“Something funny?” he asked, the question casual, but edged.
Elena looked up at him, her expression smoothing over. “It’s nothing you should worry about.”
The words were light. The implication was not.
She turned, adjusting her robe more securely, and walked toward the house without another glance back.
For a moment, Jaxon stood there alone, jaw tightening as the echo of her words lingered.
Nothing you should worry about.
The water beneath him shimmered, untouched and inviting. Without allowing himself another thought, he dove in.
The coolness swallowed him whole.
He began to swim hard, aggressive strokes cutting through the surface as if he could outpace whatever unfamiliar feeling had settled uncomfortably in his chest.
But no matter how fast he moved, the image remained—
Her smile at her phone.
And the fact that it hadn’t been for him.
Elena got to her office and, for the first time since morning, her mind felt steady enough to work. The sketch she had struggled with for days lay open on her desk—creased at the edges from frustration, smudged where her fingers had dragged unconsciously across graphite lines. She stood before it for a long moment, staring, breathing in slowly.
Then it came to her.
She picked up her pencil and began to move with precision. The missing detail revealed itself—a sharper contour along the waist, a deliberate exaggeration of the rib structure to give the corset a sculptural presence. Not just a dress. A statement.
She finally finished the design she had not been able to figure out.
There was a mannequin positioned near the large glass window of her office, sunlight pouring across it like a spotlight. Elena gathered the cut fabrics she had prepared earlier and began bringing the design to life. A V-waistline corset with structured boning tracing the ribs, firm yet elegant. The silhouette tapered dramatically before flowing into a prominent hand-embroidered design that cascaded to the floor like liquid artistry. The detailing was intricate—delicate metallic threads woven subtly into the fabric so it shimmered when the light touched it.
She stepped back, assessing her work, her fingers brushing lightly over the corset’s seams.
“Yes…” she whispered to herself. “That’s it.”
Just then, there was a soft knock.
“What do you think?” Elena asked, without turning, even before the visitor fully entered.
“It’s beautiful, ma’am,” Maya answered cheerfully.
Elena smiled faintly. “Yes, it is.”
“Umm… Ma’am, there is someone here to see you,” Maya added, her tone shifting slightly—the main reason she had come in.
“Well, tell that person I’m busy,” Elena replied, still focused on adjusting the drape along the mannequin’s hip.
“Ma’am… he said his name is Jordan Keyes.”
Elena froze.
Her hands stilled against the fabric. Slowly, she turned to face Maya.
“Jordan? Where is he?”
“He is just outside,” Maya answered.
Elena straightened instinctively. “Okay, bring him in.”
Maya nodded and walked out.
Elena quickly began clearing stray fabrics from her desk, stacking sketchpads neatly, pushing aside measuring tapes and thread spools. She adjusted the fall of her blouse, smoothed her skirt, and ran her fingers through her hair before sitting gracefully behind her desk.
She could hear Maya outside.
“Just this way, sir.”
Then Jordan walked in, Maya following politely behind him.
“Maya, you can leave us,” Elena ordered calmly.
Maya nodded and exited, closing the door gently.
Jordan stood there for a moment, taking everything in.
“Ms. Elena Montclair,” he began, astonishment evident in his voice. “I see you still haven’t changed. In fact, you’ve improved.”
His eyes traveled around the office—the framed photographs of Elena at fashion showcases, the awards mounted on the wall, the mannequins dressed in exquisite designs displayed like artwork in a private gallery.
“Oh yes, Jordan,” Elena said, walking toward him with a soft smile. “You know I’ve always been into fashion.”
“Oh, I remember,” Jordan laughed lightly. “Back in college, you would attend any gala your ears caught wind of. You lived for those events.”
Old memories hovered between them, and they both laughed.
“Those were simpler times,” Elena said.
“Well, I see you’ve made something for yourself. That’s nice,” Jordan added sincerely.
“Thank you. Please, have a seat.”
He sat down opposite her, crossing one leg over the other, still scanning the room with admiration.
“So tell me,” Elena asked with a smile, “how did you find me?”
Jordan chuckled. “Do you think it was hard figuring out where you work? It’s your company.”
Elena shook her head gently. “Don’t mind me. It’s not my company. It’s my father’s. But I’m looking forward to building something of my own one day.”
“I see,” Jordan nodded. “You always said you wanted to be an independent woman. I’m glad you’re still working toward that.”
There was sincerity in his tone. The kind that felt grounding.
“Okay, what can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Or—” Elena reached toward her telephone.
“Please, no,” Jordan interrupted gently. “I’m fine. I actually just wanted to ask you out to dinner.”
Elena blinked slightly.
“Oh… about that,” she said, her voice softening. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply. I was going to, but I forgot.”
“It’s fine,” he said reassuringly. “So… what do you say?”
“Well, the thing is—”
“You’re not going to say no, are you, El?” Jordan leaned forward slightly. “Come on. It’s just dinner. Besides, I’ll be heading back soon. This might be the only chance we get to catch up. Hmm?”
Elena paused.
Her mind drifted for a brief second—to contracts, to wedding arrangements, to Jaxon’s unreadable blue eyes.
Then she exhaled lightly.
“Sure,” she said at last. “Of course. Dinner it is.”
A smile spread across Jordan’s face. “Great. I’ll text you the address.”
He stood up. “I’ll take my leave.”
“Alright, Jordan.”
“See you later, El.”
“Sure.”
He walked toward the door, pausing briefly as if he wanted to say something more, but then he left.
The door clicked shut.
Silence returned.
Elena remained seated for a moment, staring at nothing in particular. Then her gaze shifted back to the mannequin standing by the window.
The unfinished design.
She rose slowly and walked toward it, touching the structured corset thoughtfully.
Why did this feel complicated?
It was just dinner.
Just catching up with an old friend.
She stared at the unfinished design again.
And sighed.