Chapter 74
Ellie's POV
The Miramar Resort's ballroom was elegant without being pretentious—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, white linen tablecloths, arrangements of pale roses and eucalyptus. About forty guests had already arrived when Jackson and I walked in, the atmosphere professional but warm. I'd changed into the blue dress at the hotel, paired it with simple pearl earrings, and pulled my hair into a loose updo that felt sophisticated without being stiff.
"There's Isabelle," Jackson murmured, nodding toward a woman in a cream-colored suit talking with several middle-aged men in business attire. I recognized her immediately from yesterday's ceremony—the same confident posture, the same elegant presence. But here, in this professional setting, she seemed even more in her element, gesturing animatedly as she spoke, her hair catching the light.
I took a deep breath. This is just networking. You've done this before. Just... keep Thalia calm, smile, be professional.
This shewolf respects strength, Thalia murmured, her presence a warm pulse beneath my skin. Show her we are worthy.
Jackson's hand brushed my lower back—brief, reassuring. "You'll do great," he said softly. "Just be yourself."
There it was again. Be yourself. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.
We moved into the crowd, and Jackson immediately spotted the project's lead architect, Mr. Harrison, a silver-haired man with kind eyes and an easy smile. "Jackson! Excellent performance yesterday. Your choreography was inspired."
"Thank you, sir. This is Ellie Green, my dance partner." Jackson's voice held a note of pride that made my chest warm. "Ellie, Mr. Harrison designed the community center. He's been incredibly patient with all our location requests for the performance."
I shook his hand, meeting his gaze steadily. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Harrison. The building design is beautiful—I love how you incorporated the Spanish colonial elements while keeping it modern and accessible."
His eyebrows rose, clearly pleased. "You've done your homework. Not many dancers take the time to learn about the architecture."
"I'm a computer science major," I said, smiling. "I appreciate good design in all its forms. And honestly, performing for a project like this—something that'll genuinely help the community—means a lot more than just another showcase."
Mr. Harrison's expression softened. "That's exactly the spirit we hoped for in our partners."
Jackson stayed close, but he let me lead the conversation. I could feel his eyes on me occasionally—not possessive or controlling, just... attentive. Like he was ready to step in if I needed him but trusted me to handle myself.
This male knows when to support and when to step back, Thalia noted approvingly. Lucas never learned that balance.
I pushed the thought away. This wasn't about Lucas. This was about me, here, now, being myself without apology.
The CVU student representatives found me near the appetizer table. Marcus, the student council president, practically lit up when he recognized me. "Ellie! I didn't know you were involved with the Martinez project. That performance yesterday was incredible."
"Thanks, Marcus." I accepted a glass of sparkling water from a passing server. "Jackson's choreography deserves most of the credit."
"But your execution was flawless." Sophia joined us. She was a senior in social work and served as the student council's external relations director. "I was telling Marcus, we should look into more partnerships like this—combining arts with community development."
An idea sparked. "Actually, that makes me think. The computer science department has been looking for real-world application projects. What if we developed a scheduling and resource management system for the community center? Something user-friendly that could help patients book appointments, track services, maybe even include telehealth options?"
Sophia's eyes widened. "That would be amazing. Most community centers rely on paper systems or clunky outdated software. Could you actually make that happen?"
"I'd need to talk to my professors and get a team together, but yeah. I think we could." The excitement in my voice was genuine. This was what I'd wanted—using my skills to help people, to make a real difference.
"I'm writing this down," Sophia said, pulling out her phone. "Can I get your email? We should set up a meeting to discuss this further."
As I rattled off my contact information, I felt Jackson's presence beside me. He'd been talking with another contractor but had drifted back, a small smile playing at his lips.
"What?" I asked when Sophia and Marcus moved off to greet someone else.
"Nothing." But his smile widened. "You're just... really good at this."
"At what?"
"At being you. No pretense. No trying to fit some mold." He paused. "It's refreshing."
My cheeks warmed. "I'm just talking about computers and design. Not exactly groundbreaking."
"No, but you're passionate about it. And people respond to that." He tilted his head. "Also, that system idea? Brilliant. Isabelle's going to love it."
As if summoned, Isabelle appeared beside us, two glasses of champagne in hand. She offered one to me with a warm smile. "Ellie. I've been hearing excellent things about you from basically everyone I've talked to. Mr. Harrison says you 'get it,' and Sophia just cornered me about some kind of revolutionary appointment system."
I accepted the champagne, though I had no intention of drinking it. "I just suggested we could develop something. No promises until I talk to my professors."
"Modest and competent." Isabelle's dark eyes sparkled. "No wonder Jackson chose you as his partner."
There was something in her tone—not quite teasing, but knowing. Like she could see something Jackson and I were still figuring out.
Jackson cleared his throat. "Ellie has a genuine interest in social impact technology. It's not just academic for her."
"I can tell." Isabelle's gaze shifted between us, assessing. "You're very lucky to have found someone so aligned with your values, primo."
Primo. Cousin. The casual endearment somehow made everything feel more real. This wasn't just Jackson Wilson, the dance society president. This was Jackson Martinez, part of a powerful family, with connections and expectations I couldn't fully grasp.
But Isabelle wasn't treating me like an outsider. Her smile was genuine, her interest real. She asked about my major, my goals, my thoughts on community-university partnerships. And when I answered, she listened—not with the polite-but-distant attention of someone going through the motions, but with actual engagement.
This female respects us, Thalia noted. She sees beyond the surface.
"If you're serious about the system development," Isabelle said, "I'd love to include it in our grant proposal for Phase Two of the center. We could potentially get funding for student developers, make it an official partnership."
My heart kicked up. "Really?"
"Really." She pulled out a business card—thick, cream-colored stock with elegant typography. "My direct line. Send me a proposal when you have one. Even if it's just an outline."
I took the card, feeling the weight of it. This was real. An actual opportunity to do something meaningful, to use my skills for more than just grades or internship applications.
"Thank you," I said, meeting her eyes. "I won't let you down."
"I know you won't." Isabelle's smile softened. "You have that look—the one that says you actually care about outcomes, not just optics." She glanced at Jackson. "Runs in certain circles, apparently."
Jackson's ears turned slightly pink, but he didn't look away.