Chapter 75
Ellie's POV
By two o'clock, the lunch was winding down. Guests were exchanging final business cards, making plans for follow-up meetings, thanking Isabelle for her hospitality.
Isabelle found me near the exit, pulling me into an unexpected hug. Not the stiff, formal embrace of professional networking, but something warmer. "Thank you for being here, Ellie. I mean that. You brought something special to this event."
"Thank you for including me," I said, returning the hug. "And for the opportunity. I'll get you that proposal."
"I'll be waiting." She pulled back, her smile genuine. Then she turned to Jackson, who'd been hovering nearby. "You picked well, primo. Hold onto this one."
She said it lightly, playfully, but there was something knowing in her eyes. Something that made Jackson's jaw tighten just slightly before he nodded.
The drive back started in comfortable silence. I stared out the window, watching the coastline blur past, replaying moments from the lunch. The easy conversations. The genuine connections. The way Jackson had stayed close but let me shine on my own.
"Isabelle's different than I expected," I said finally.
Jackson glanced at me, curious. "How so?"
I laughed softly. "Honestly? Based on every dramatic TV show ever, I expected her to be... I don't know, intimidating. Condescending. Using those subtle power plays rich people do to make you feel small."
"Isabelle's a lot of things, but she's not a snob." Jackson's voice held affection. "She worked her way up in the family business on merit, not just because of her last name. She hates the old-guard mentality as much as I do."
"The old guard?"
"The ones who think bloodlines and tradition matter more than actual character." His hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "They exist in every family. The ones who'd judge you based on your background before they ever got to know you."
Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. "Have you dealt with that? People judging you because of your family?"
"Sometimes." He was quiet for a moment. "It's complicated. Being a Martinez means automatic respect in some circles. But it also means expectations. Assumptions about who you should be, what you should want." He paused. "Isabelle and I bonded over that, actually. Both of us trying to find our own paths while dealing with family legacy."
I thought about that. About how Jackson had hidden his real name, kept his distance from his family's public presence. About how Isabelle had carved out her own role in the business despite probably facing pressure to fit a certain mold.
"It must be hard," I said quietly. "Balancing what you want with what's expected."
"It is." He shot me a quick smile. "But it gets easier when you find people who see you for who you really are, not just your last name or your connections."
My chest tightened. Was he talking about me? About us?
"I guess that's true for everyone," I said, looking back out the window. "Everyone wants to be seen. Really seen."
"Yeah." His voice was soft. "They do."
We fell into silence again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just... thoughtful. Like we were both processing something too big to put into words yet.
Then I made the mistake of letting my guard down.
"So," I said, aiming for casual, "if I keep working with your family on these projects, I guess I'll need to learn all those formal etiquette rules, huh? Which fork to use, how to address people properly, all that stuff."
"Probably," Jackson said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Isabelle can teach you. She's better at the social politics than I am."
"Great. More rules to memorize." I sighed dramatically. "Though I guess if I'm going to be around your family long-term, I should probably—"
I stopped.
Long-term.
The words hung in the air between us, suddenly heavy with implication.
Jackson's hands tightened on the wheel. "If you were going to be part of the family long-term," he said carefully, his voice low, "yeah. You'd need to learn the rules. Especially if you were going to... officially enter it."
Officially enter it.
My brain went into overdrive. Enter the family. Long-term. Officially.
He wasn't talking about business partnerships or dance collaborations. He was talking about—
Oh god.
"I didn't—I wasn't—" My voice came out higher than normal, face burning. "I just meant, like, if we keep doing projects together, professionally, I'd need to—I wasn't implying—"
"I know." But Jackson's lips twitched, fighting a smile. "It's okay, Ellie. I understood what you meant."
Except the way he said it, the gentle amusement in his voice, suggested he'd understood the slip too. The unconscious assumption of long-term. Of officially.
I pressed my palms against my cheeks, willing the blush to subside. "Can we just... pretend the last thirty seconds didn't happen?"
"Absolutely." He was definitely smiling now. "Pretend what didn't happen?"
"Jackson."
"What?" Pure innocence. "I'm agreeing with you. Nothing happened."
But the warmth in his voice, the way he wasn't pushing or teasing too hard, just letting it be a natural, slightly awkward moment between us—it made my chest feel tight and warm and terrifyingly full.
This male plays fair, Thalia murmured, amused. He noticed, but he's letting us save face.
The silence stretched for a moment, comfortable despite my lingering embarrassment. Then Jackson cleared his throat gently.
"So," he said, his voice carefully casual, "we don't have anything scheduled for the rest of the afternoon. The appreciation lunch was the only obligation." He glanced at me, amber eyes warm. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go? We could explore the area, head back to the school, whatever you prefer."