Chapter 49 Alone
The lobby of the small hotel was modest but surprisingly elegant in its simplicity. Warm amber lights glowed softly from sconces mounted along the walls, casting gentle shadows over framed landscape paintings. A faint instrumental melody drifted from hidden speakers, adding a touch of calm to the late evening atmosphere.
Jaxon stood at the reception desk, posture straight despite the fatigue settling into his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, but we just have one room available. The rest are all booked,” the receptionist said with a polite smile that did little to soften the inconvenience.
Jaxon exhaled quietly. “Is there nothing you can do? I mean… I will pay.”
Her expression remained apologetic but firm. “I apologize, sir, but there is nothing I can do.”
Before he could respond further, Elena stepped forward.
“Okay. We’ll take it,” she said without hesitation.
Jaxon turned his head slightly toward her, studying her face. There was no embarrassment in her expression, no flustered hesitation — only practicality.
He slowly reached into his wallet and pulled out his credit card.
“Are you sure?” he whispered to her while the receptionist swiped the card through the machine.
Elena leaned slightly closer, her voice just as low. “As sure as I am that I don’t want to go back outside. It’s late. And it’s not safe.”
Her reasoning was sound.
The surrounding area had grown noticeably quiet. The streets outside were dimly lit, and even the front desk attendant seemed eager for the night to pass uneventfully.
Jaxon nodded faintly.
The receptionist handed the card back with a courteous smile. “Here you are, sir. I’ll have someone take you to your room.”
She picked up the telephone, dialed a short extension, and whispered a few words before hanging up.
Moments later, a young girl — perhaps no older than twenty — appeared from a side corridor.
“Please, this way,” she said politely.
They followed her down a narrow hallway lined with patterned carpet and soft lighting. The scent of fresh linen lingered faintly in the air. Their footsteps echoed gently in the quiet corridor.
When they reached the room, the girl unlocked the door and stepped aside to allow them in.
The room was simple yet comfortable. A queen-sized bed occupied the center, dressed in crisp white sheets and a neatly arranged duvet. A small seating area stood by the window, and a wooden desk rested against one wall. The lighting was warm, creating an unexpectedly intimate atmosphere.
“If you need anything, there is a telephone by the bed,” the girl explained. “The service numbers are listed beside it.”
“Thank you,” Elena said politely.
The girl smiled and left, closing the door softly behind her.
Silence followed.
The room suddenly felt smaller than it had moments ago.
Jaxon cleared his throat lightly. “So… I’ll wait outside so you can use the bathroom.”
Elena simply nodded.
There was no awkward protest, no unnecessary commentary. Both understood the boundaries that needed to be respected.
Jaxon stepped out into the hallway, closing the door carefully behind him.
Inside, Elena placed her handbag on the desk and exhaled slowly.
The day’s exhaustion finally caught up to her.
She walked toward the window and parted the curtains slightly. The view overlooked a quiet street bathed in pale streetlight. A stray dog wandered across the road. A distant motorcycle passed by, its sound fading quickly.
She removed her heels and flexed her aching feet against the soft carpet.
Then she took out her phone and dialed Brielle.
The call connected almost immediately.
“what happened?,” Brielle demanded without preamble.
Elena gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “She didn’t show.”
“Of course she didn’t.”
“We waited for over five hours. Her phone isn’t reachable.”
There was a pause.
“That’s not normal,” Brielle said more seriously. “Even if she changed her mind, she would at least send a message.”
“I know,” Elena replied softly.
“And now?”
Elena hesitated before answering. “We’re stuck at some small hotel near the station. The car ran out of gas.”
Brielle was silent for a moment — then burst into disbelieving laughter. “You’re stranded? With Jaxon?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Brielle said innocently. “I’m just saying… fate works in interesting ways.”
Elena rolled her eyes even though her friend couldn’t see it. “It’s not fate. It’s inconvenience.”
“Sure,” Brielle replied lightly. “Just… be careful, El. This whole Maya situation feels calculated.”
Elena’s expression grew thoughtful.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
After a few more minutes of conversation — lighter topics this time — Elena ended the call.
The room fell quiet again.
She walked toward the bathroom, turning on the lights. The space was clean and neatly arranged, with folded towels stacked on a small shelf.
As she undressed and stepped beneath the warm spray of water, her thoughts drifted.
Maya’s disappearance. The unreachable phone. The suspicious timing.
None of it felt accidental.
By the time Jaxon returned to the room, the lights were dimmed and silence had settled in completely.
He closed the door gently behind him, careful not to make a sound.
Elena was already asleep.
She lay on one side of the bed, her body slightly curled beneath the white duvet. A faint glow from the bedside lamp illuminated her face, softening her features. Her long lashes rested against her cheeks, and a few strands of dark hair had fallen loosely across her forehead.
For the first time that day, she looked at peace.
Jaxon stood still for a moment, simply watching her.
The tension she had carried all morning was gone. The sharpness in her tone, the frustration in her eyes — all of it had faded into something quiet and vulnerable.
“You must be very tired,” he thought to himself.
He walked closer to the bed, his steps slow and deliberate. Carefully, almost instinctively, he reached out and used his fingers to brush the loose strands of hair away from her face.
The touch was light.
Gentle.
Almost reverent.
Just then, Elena shifted slightly. Her brows moved faintly before her eyes slowly opened. The haze of sleep lingered in her gaze as she tried to focus.
Jaxon immediately straightened and stepped back, creating distance as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.
“Where were you?” she asked softly, her voice still heavy with sleep.
“I thought perhaps you needed some time alone,” Jaxon replied calmly. He moved toward the small table in the corner and began setting down the takeout containers he had brought in. “Look. I brought dinner.”
A faint, knowing expression crossed Elena’s face.
“Of course you did,” she murmured.
She slipped her feet to the floor and stood up, walking toward the table. The room felt warmer now, smaller somehow.
She pulled out a chair and sat down quietly.
“You can eat,” Jaxon said. “I’ll just take a shower.”
He removed his watch and placed it on the bedside table before heading toward the bathroom.
Elena nodded once, though she avoided looking directly at him.
She reached for the fork and slowly pierced the spaghetti, lifting a small portion onto her plate. The scent of tomato sauce and herbs filled the air.
But her attention was elsewhere.
She tried not to look.
She really did.
Jaxon began to undress a few feet away from her. The bathroom door was close — too close — and there was no real way to avoid seeing him without appearing obvious.
He removed his shirt first.
Elena’s grip on the fork tightened slightly.
His back came into view — broad, defined — muscles shifting naturally beneath his skin. When he turned slightly, the lamplight traced over his chest and down to the firm lines of his abdomen.
Her breath hitched before she could control it.
She forced her eyes down to her plate, scooping another bite mechanically.
Then he stepped out of his trousers.
She looked up again despite herself.
The controlled strength in the way his muscles contracted with each movement, the effortless balance in his posture — it was impossible not to notice.
If the lower part of the bathroom door had been made of frosted glass, she would have seen more than she intended.
He turned slightly and reached for the soap.
That was when she saw it again.
The tattoo etched at his lower back.
Dark ink against warm skin.
Distinct.
Intentional.
Her eyes lingered for a second too long.
Immediately, she looked away, heat rising subtly to her cheeks.
She focused on her food again, though she could no longer taste it.
Behind the partially frosted glass, water began to run.
Jaxon returned from his shower with damp hair and a fresh white T-shirt clinging lightly to his shoulders. The faint scent of soap followed him as he pulled out the chair opposite Elena and sat down.
For a while, they ate in silence.
The only sounds in the room were the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain and the distant hum of traffic outside. Neither of them looked directly at the other. It felt safer that way.
Jaxon was focused on cutting through a stubborn piece of meat when Elena finally broke the silence.
“You never told me why you agreed to the contract… or the alliance.”
Her voice was calm but intentional.
Jaxon paused mid-motion and slowly lifted his gaze to her.
“It’s a long story,” he replied.
Elena set her cutlery down deliberately and leaned back slightly, folding her hands together on the table. “Well, it looks like we have all the time.”
A faint breath of amusement left him.
“You’re so persistent,” he muttered.
“I know,” she replied without hesitation.
Something in her steady gaze made him exhale quietly.
“My mother died when I was little,” he began.
Elena frowned slightly. “What do you mean? Isn’t Mrs. Eleanor your mother?”
“No,” he said evenly. “She isn’t. And no one knows that… except my father. And me.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
He looked down briefly, as if gathering pieces of a memory he rarely touched.
“Before my mother died, I overheard her arguing with my father. I was young, but I remember it clearly. I remember crying as I watched him yell at her. I saw him hit her.”
Elena’s breath caught.
“That was the day I found out I wasn’t his son,” Jaxon continued quietly. “He was furious. I had never seen him that angry. He looked at me and said I would never be a Wentworth. That I would never be his son.”
The words still carried weight, even years later.
“He had taken care of me all those years,” Jaxon added. “Provided everything. And after that day… I told myself I would repay him in every way I could. So when the alliance was presented, I agreed. It wasn’t as though I had much of a choice. Besides… I owe him my life.”
Silence followed.
Elena stared at him, her expression softened with something deeper than sympathy.
“I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “What about your mother?”
“She died not long after. Cancer,” he answered simply.
The room felt heavier.
“Oh my God,” Elena whispered. “I’m sorry. Forgive me for asking.”
“It’s fine,” he said calmly. “You didn’t know.”
He paused, then added quietly, “And besides… I’m over that grief.”
Elena studied him carefully, as if trying to determine whether that statement was true.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Tell me about her.”
He blinked, slightly surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” she teased lightly. “Or do you think I wouldn’t like her?”
A small smile touched his lips.
“Oh, you would love her. It’s just… no one I’ve told this story to has ever asked who she was.”
“Well,” Elena said softly, “I would love to know.”
Jaxon leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the room.
“She was beautiful,” he began. “Not just in the way people usually mean. She was kind. Gentle. She had this way of making everything feel safe.”
His voice softened.
“She used to call me her star. Every weekend, she would take me to the beach. We would build sandcastles, run along the shore. When it got dark, I would get scared… and she would hold me and say, ‘Don’t be afraid. I’m here.’”
Elena felt her chest tighten.
“She would sing to me until I fell asleep,” he added quietly. “She was the best thing I ever had.”
“She sounds incredible,” Elena said sincerely.
“She was,” he corrected softly.
A brief silence settled between them again.
“Was that why you had a panic attack that night in the study?” Elena asked carefully.
Jaxon gave a faint, embarrassed smile. “That. Yes. Sometimes when I’m in the dark too long… it reminds me of those nights. I get short of breath.”
“I see,” Elena said gently. “It’s okay.”
At some point during the conversation, she had moved from her seat across the table to sit beside him. Neither of them had consciously acknowledged the shift.
Now they were close.
Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from each other.
Elena stood up slowly. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll clean this up.”
Jaxon stood almost immediately. “No, I’ll do it. You should rest.”
“I should do it,” she insisted.
They exchanged a few quiet protests, stepping closer in the process without noticing.
And then—
They stopped.
They were standing far too close now.
Elena turned toward him to argue again, but the words dissolved on her lips.
They were barely an inch apart.
She could feel his breath against her skin.
He could feel hers.
The world seemed to shrink into a single suspended moment.
His eyes moved slowly from hers to her lips… then to the curve of her neck… and back again.
Elena’s gaze dropped to his mouth.
Silence deepened.
No sounds. No movement. Only tension.
Slowly—almost unconsciously—they leaned toward each other.
Their lips met.
Soft.
Tentative.
The kiss was gentle, exploratory, as if both were testing a boundary they had drawn but never truly respected.
Elena pulled back first, her breath uneven.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
But before distance could fully form, Jaxon’s hand moved to her waist, steady and sure. He drew her back toward him, closing the space once more.
This time, when his lips found hers, there was no hesitation.
And she kissed him back.
They made love.