Chapter 45 Tales of Luca
Elena had backed out of the La Seine collaboration without much resistance after that meeting. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but the pressure from both families regarding the wedding left her with little room to breathe. Their parents insisted on handling every single arrangement—from the guest list to the venue, from the décor to the press releases. All Elena and Jaxon were required to do, apparently, was show up, smile for the cameras, and say their vows.
It felt surreal. Like watching her own life from behind a glass wall.
That night, the penthouse was unusually quiet.
Dinner passed without much conversation. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain echoed softly through the dining room, and though they sat across from each other, it felt as though miles separated them. Jaxon excused himself first, retreating into his thoughts, while Elena lingered, pushing food around her plate long after she’d lost her appetite.
When she finally rose, she found herself drifting toward the study.
The room had always drawn her in. It smelled faintly of old pages and polished wood—a comforting contrast to the rest of the sleek, modern penthouse. Rows of books lined the walls, each one carefully arranged. Elena trailed her fingers along the spines, scanning titles until one caught her attention. She pulled it out and settled into one of the armchairs near the window, her legs tucked beneath her.
Tales of Luca.
She didn’t realize how much time passed. The world outside the book faded, replaced by masked balls, hidden identities, and quiet longing woven into the pages. The clock on the wall ticked unnoticed as the night deepened.
The study door creaked open.
Jaxon stepped inside absentmindedly, his hand still on the door handle. He hadn’t expected anyone to be there.
“Oh—sorry,” he said quickly, his voice low. “I had no idea you were here.”
Elena looked up, startled, then smiled faintly as she closed the book halfway. “My bad. It’s late. I was supposed to be asleep already. I just… got carried away.”
She shifted as if to stand, but he lifted a hand slightly, stopping her without realizing it.
“I see,” he said, surprised. “You read?”
She raised a brow, amused. “Of course. What do you take me for?”
He huffed a quiet laugh and moved closer to the shelves. “Hmm. And what were you reading?”
“Tales of Luca.”
He froze for a second, then turned toward her with genuine astonishment. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“I’ve read that book at least a million times,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s one of my favorites in here.”
Elena’s eyes lit up. “Really? Then tell me—did Luca finally find out who the girl behind the mask was?”
Jaxon smiled knowingly, reaching for another book. “Uh-uh. No spoilers. You’ll have to read it yourself.”
She groaned dramatically. “You’re not fun.”
He chuckled as she rose, clutching the book to her chest. She turned toward the door, ready to leave—
And suddenly, everything went dark.
The lights cut out without warning, plunging the room into thick darkness. The silence that followed was sharp, suffocating.
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then Elena heard it.
A sharp intake of breath.
Another.
And another.
A book slipped from Jaxon’s hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
“Jaxon?” she called softly.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, she heard him gasp again—ragged, uneven—followed by a sound that made her heart jolt.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Please…”
She rushed back to him immediately.
“Jaxon, hey,” Elena said, reaching him in two quick steps. She placed her hands on his shoulders instinctively, grounding him. He was shaking—his chest rising and falling far too fast.
“You’re having a panic attack,” she said gently but firmly. “Look at me. Look at me.”
He tried, but his eyes were unfocused, filled with something raw and distant.
She slid her hands upward, cupping his cheeks, forcing him to stay present. “Jaxon,” she whispered. “I’m here. I won’t go anywhere.”
Her thumbs brushed lightly against his skin, steady, reassuring.
Slowly—so slowly—his breathing began to ease.
Their eyes locked.
The darkness around them faded into nothingness, as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them standing there. His breaths grew steadier, his shoulders relaxing beneath her hands.
Neither of them moved.
They were too close now.
Head to head.
Nose to nose.
Only inches apart.
Elena tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she became acutely aware of his presence—his warmth, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his breath brushed against her skin.
Something inside her shifted.
Yearned.
Jaxon’s hands lifted slowly, hesitantly, as though asking permission even without words. He cupped her cheeks, mirroring her touch, his fingers warm and sure.
Time stretched.
Just as he leaned in—
The lights flickered back on.
The room flooded with brightness, breaking the spell instantly.
Elena gasped and stepped back as if burned. “I—I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice trembling.
“No, it’s fine,” Jaxon said, equally shaken.
“It’s not,” she insisted. “I’m sorry.”
She grabbed her book, her hands unsteady, and without another word, rushed out of the study, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Jaxon remained where he stood, staring at the empty doorway, his heart still racing—only now, for an entirely different reason.
The next morning, Elena woke to the soft beeping of her alarm. She reached over groggily, her hand fumbling against the cold metal until she silenced it. She lay for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the memories of last night wash over her once more. The image of Jaxon’s face, the closeness, the intensity of his eyes, and that brief moment when everything seemed to pause—it all returned in vivid detail. She groaned quietly, pressing her hands against her face, wishing she could erase the memory, or at least hide it from herself.
Finally summoning the courage, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and made her way to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, calm and composed, but her mind betrayed her, replaying the panic attack and the closeness they’d shared. She felt a warmth rush to her cheeks, and she quickly ducked into the bathroom, letting the cool tile and running water soothe her. She splashed her face, closed her eyes, and whispered to herself, It’s fine. Nothing happened. Just calm down.
After a few minutes, she returned to her room and dressed. Today, she opted for a light grey pencil skirt that hugged her form subtly, paired with a soft cream blouse tucked neatly in, and nude heels that made her walk graceful yet confident. She tied her hair into a neat low ponytail, taking one last deep breath in the mirror before heading downstairs.
As she descended, she heard Jaxon’s voice—strong, clear, and unmistakable—calling out to Ms. Julie. “Ms. Julie, please, can I have a drink?”
Elena froze mid-step, her body tensing. She paused, pressing herself slightly against the wall, trying to hide, hoping he hadn’t seen her yet. But of course, he did. There was no missing him. The moment she peeked around the corner, his eyes landed on hers like a spotlight cutting through the morning haze.
“Good morning, Elena,” he said, his voice calm but carrying that faint undertone of amusement or perhaps curiosity.
“Uh—good morning, Jaxon,” she replied, her voice a little higher than normal as she tried to sound casual.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel and walked toward her, each step deliberate, the air between them charged with an unspoken tension. His presence made her heart rate spike despite her best efforts to maintain composure.
“You’re about to leave? It’s Saturday,” he asked, tilting his head slightly as if genuinely puzzled.
“Yes… I have work to do at the office,” Elena replied, keeping her tone light but firm. The truth was, she had no urgent meetings today; she just needed space, needed a reason to keep her distance from him after the events of last night.
He nodded, his piercing blue eyes scanning her for a brief moment, as though trying to read what she wasn’t saying. “Okay,” he said simply.
Elena gave him a nod in return and turned toward the door. Each step felt heavier than usual, the quiet of the morning amplifying her nerves.
“Umm… Elena, about last night, I’m s…” Jaxon began, hesitating mid-sentence, the words catching somewhere in his throat.
She froze for a heartbeat, her hand on the door handle. Her chest tightened. She wanted to stay, to hear what he had to say, but fear and embarrassment pushed her forward. “Nothing happened, Jaxon,” she said quickly, her voice firmer than she felt. She didn’t wait for him to respond. She turned and walked away, each step echoing softly in the marble hallway.
The elevator doors slid shut before he could speak again, and Elena leaned against the cool metal wall as it began its descent. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady her racing heart. Inside, she couldn’t help replaying his eyes, the closeness of their faces, and the warmth of his hands on her shoulders. Her cheeks burned all over again.
She pressed the call button for her car and took a moment to steady her thoughts. Focus, Elena. It’s just Jaxon. Just Jaxon. She told herself repeatedly, though her heart still thumped violently in her chest. She couldn’t deny that part of her wanted to turn back, to say something—anything—to explain herself, to soften the tension that now hung between them like a storm cloud. But she held her tongue, reminding herself that distance was necessary, at least for now.
As the morning sun crept through the large penthouse windows, casting golden streaks across the floor, the silence in both their minds was deafening. Words unspoken, emotions suppressed, and an invisible thread of tension lingered, binding them both to a reality neither fully wanted to confront yet.
The day had just begun, and already it promised to be heavy with the weight of what had almost happened—and the inevitable questions that would follow once they were alone again.
Elena and Brielle sat across from each other at The Palms, the late-afternoon sun filtering through the tall glass windows and casting warm patterns across the marble table. The restaurant buzzed softly with quiet
conversations, clinking cutlery, and low jazz humming in the background. Between them lay several fabric samples, a tablet displaying rough sketches, and a half-finished bottle of sparkling water.
Elena stirred her salad absentmindedly, her appetite clearly missing, while Brielle studied her face with the kind of focus that came from years of friendship.
“So,” Brielle finally said, breaking the silence, “you’re telling me there was almost a moment?”
Elena exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. “It wasn’t planned. It just… happened. Or almost happened.” She hesitated, then added, “The lights went out. He had a panic attack. I stayed.”
Brielle’s brows lifted slightly. “You stayed?”
“Yes.” Elena nodded. “I couldn’t just walk away.”
Brielle smiled faintly. “And?”
“And nothing,” Elena replied quickly. “The lights came back on and reality returned with them.”
Brielle tilted her head. “But how did it feel?”
Elena paused. That question lingered longer than she expected. She stared at the table for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “It felt… confusing,” she finally said. “Comforting. Intimate. But it doesn’t matter.”
Brielle frowned. “Why doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” Elena said firmly. “The Jaxon I know will never love me. This marriage is nothing more than a contract. An arrangement between two families who care more about legacy than happiness. We just have to get to the end of it and move on with our lives.”
Brielle studied her carefully. “Is that really how you feel, or is that how you’re protecting yourself?”
Elena let out a dry laugh. “Come on, Bri. Jaxon is not the man for me.”
“And what makes you think so?” Brielle asked gently. “El, you don’t even know him. You’ve seen his public side, the polished businessman, the guarded heir. That’s not the whole man. Who knows? He might actually be interested in you.”
Elena shook her head. “You’re romanticizing it.”
“I’m being realistic,” Brielle countered. “People aren’t one-dimensional. And from what you just told me, that man trusted you in his most vulnerable moment. That counts for something.”
Elena remained silent.
“If you ask me,” Brielle continued, “you should get to know him first. No assumptions. No walls. Just observe. See what comes afterward.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand over Elena’s. “You deserve to be happy, El. Not just stable. Not just married. Happy.”
Elena gave a small, thoughtful smile. “Of course.”
They ate quietly for a while after that, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Elena found herself replaying Brielle’s words, even though she pretended to focus on the designs in front of her.
Later, Brielle’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and sighed. “I have to take this. It’s work.”
“I figured,” Elena said softly.
Brielle stood, leaned down, and hugged her. “Don’t overthink everything. Just… feel a little.”
Elena smiled faintly. “I’ll try.”
After Brielle left, Elena remained seated, her fork resting untouched beside her plate. The restaurant felt quieter now, emptier. She leaned back and let her thoughts wander—about Jaxon, about the contract, about the future she was walking into with eyes wide open yet heart uncertain.
“Elena?”
The sound of her name snapped her out of her thoughts.
She looked up.
For a moment, she wasn’t sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her.
“Jordan?” she said, disbelief coloring her voice.
His face broke into a wide smile. “Wow. It really is you.”
She stood up immediately, nearly knocking her chair over as she rushed toward him. “Jordan!”
They hugged, a warm, familiar embrace that carried echoes of old memories and easier days. When they pulled apart, both were smiling.
“What are you doing here?” Elena asked.
“Can I have a seat?” Jordan said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.
“Yeah, sure.”
They sat, and for a brief moment they simply stared at each other, as if confirming the other was real.
“So,” Elena began, still smiling, “what brings you to L.A.?”
“I’m here on a business trip,” Jordan explained. “I just wrapped up a meeting in this area, and then I saw you sitting here. I almost didn’t believe it.”
Elena laughed softly. “That’s crazy. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know,” he said. “You look… amazing.”
“Thank you,” she replied, slightly flustered.
“You haven’t changed much yourself.”
“Guess some things stick,” he said with a shrug.
Before she could continue, her phone beeped on the table. Elena glanced down, her expression shifting almost immediately.
She picked it up, skimmed the message, then looked back at Jordan apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Jordan, but I have to go.”
“Oh,” he said, masking his disappointment quickly. “That’s okay.”
“It was really nice seeing you,” she added as she gathered her things.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Maybe… we could catch up sometime?”
He stretched out his phone.
Elena didn’t ask questions. She understood immediately. She took the phone and entered her number. “Of course.”
They stood, hugged once more, and exchanged smiles before she finally walked away.
Jordan remained where he was, watching her leave, a slow smile settling on his face as she disappeared through the restaurant doors.