Chapter 4 #3
Jaxson walked into Calloway & Co. looking every inch the successful real estate agent he was.
Though if his tie was slightly crooked—thanks to fidgeting with it the entire drive while definitely not thinking about certain morning events—no one needed to know.
The memory of Lan’s face in the car, those dark eyes wide and startled when Jaxson touched him, kept intruding despite his best efforts to focus on work.
The third-floor office was quiet, being Friday, which suited his mood perfectly.
Less chance of anyone noticing if he spent half the morning staring at his laptop screen instead of actually working.
The familiar environment—glass partitions, sleek furniture, the distant hum of the air conditioning—should have been calming.
Instead, Jaxson found himself restless, unable to settle into his usual routine.
“Well, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite workaholic,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking through his reverie.
So much for peace and quiet.
Henry Calloway—friend, colleague, and living proof that nepotism occasionally worked out—dropped into the chair opposite Jaxson’s desk with all the grace of a man who knew his father owned the building.
His tailored suit and easy confidence spoke of old money and ivy league education, though the genuine warmth in his eyes prevented him from being completely insufferable.
“Some of us actually earn our paychecks,” Jaxson shot back, not looking up from his email.
All thirty unread messages that he’d been ignoring for the past hour while his mind wandered to more dangerous territories.
Like the way Lan’s hair had felt under his fingers, silky and still damp from the shower, or how his pulse had jumped when Jaxson’s thumb brushed his cheek—
No. Emails. Safe, boring emails about property values and closing costs. Not the way Lan’s lips had parted slightly when Jaxson touched him or how his eyes had darkened with something that looked almost like—
“Says the man who’s been staring at the same email for ten minutes.” Henry’s grin was insufferable, his knowing gaze taking in Jaxson’s distracted state with too much perception. “Hot date? Or is it a family matter?”
Jaxson’s head snapped up, alarm coursing through him. “What?”
Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Jaxson’s reaction. “I said, hot date? You’ve been a million miles away since you walked in.”
Relief washed over Jaxson, followed immediately by guilt. He was getting paranoid, hearing his own inappropriate thoughts in innocent questions. “Client meeting,” he replied, forcing his attention back to his screen.
“Shame. Sofia’s been plotting your love life again.”
As if summoned by her name—and knowing Sofia, she probably had been lurking nearby—Henry’s wife appeared in the doorway.
The gleam in her eyes made Jaxson want to crawl under his desk.
Sofia Calloway was a force of nature wrapped in designer clothes, her matchmaking tendencies legendary around the office.
She’d successfully paired up three colleagues in the past year alone, and her sights had been firmly set on Jaxson for months.
“Speak of the devil.” Henry chuckled, earning a swat from his wife.
“Darling, I thought you were getting things before the meeting?” Sofia’s innocent tone fooled exactly no one.
She shut the door with a decisive click that sounded suspiciously like a prison cell closing.
Her perfume—something expensive and floral—filled the office as she moved with predatory grace toward them.
“I am, I am.” Henry rose, dropping a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Try not to traumatize him too much. We need him functional for the Henderson showing.”
The moment Henry left, Sofia claimed his vacant seat like a queen ascending her throne.
Her expression suggested Jaxson was about to be sentenced for crimes against romance.
The sunlight streaming through the office windows caught on her wedding ring, the diamond throwing prisms of light across the desk—a reminder of her self-proclaimed expertise in matters of the heart.
“Don’t,” he warned, recognizing the determined glint in her eye.
“I haven’t said anything!” Her wounded look might have been more convincing if she wasn’t practically vibrating with suppressed matchmaking energy, her perfectly manicured nails tapping a restless rhythm against the arm of the chair.
“You’re thinking it very loudly.” Jaxson turned his attention deliberately back to his computer, though the words on the screen might as well have been written in ancient script for all the sense they made to him right now.
“Well, someone has to think about your happiness since you’re determined to be professionally successful and personally miserable.” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with the zeal of a woman on a mission. “Speaking of personal happiness, how’s your brother doing?”
The casual question made Jaxson’s heart skip a beat, his fingers freezing over the keyboard.
He kept his face carefully blank, years of business negotiations coming to his aid.
“Brother? Singular? That’s favoritism, Sofia.
I have five of them, you know.” The deflection was weak, and they both knew it.
“Oh, please.” She waved away his response like an annoying fly. “You know exactly which one I mean. The cute one who’s—”
“We are not having this conversation.” Jaxson’s voice dropped to a warning rumble, his hands curling into fists beneath the desk.
The predatory part of his brain—the part that seemed to activate only around Lan—bristled at anyone else referring to him as “cute,” as if merely noticing his attractiveness was a territorial invasion.
“—single—” Sofia continued, undeterred.
“Sofia.” The single word held a wealth of warning.
“—and clearly adores you—” She pressed on, leaning forward with the enthusiasm of someone who’d found a particularly juicy piece of gossip.
“I will call security.” The threat was empty and they both knew it.
“—and is probably being pursued by half the city while you sit here pretending to read emails.”
The pen in Jaxson’s hand made an ominous cracking sound.
He set it down before he could accidentally stab something.
Or someone. The image of Lan being “pursued” by nameless, faceless people made something dark and possessive curl in his chest, a sensation he had no right to feel but couldn’t seem to control.
“He’s twenty-one,” Jaxson said through gritted teeth, like that number hadn’t been haunting his dreams for months. Like he hadn’t been counting down the days, hating himself for it even as he marked each one off the calendar.
“Exactly!” Sofia’s triumphant grin suggested she’d just won some argument Jaxson hadn’t realized they were having. She leaned back, crossing her legs. “Legal, adult, and absolutely gorgeous if the way your clients react when he brings you lunch is any indication.”
The reminder of how others looked at Lan made Jaxson’s jaw clench.
He’d noticed, of course. Hard not to when every delivery person, client, and random passerby seemed magnetically drawn to Lan’s presence.
The way they’d lean too close, laugh too loud at his innocent comments, find excuses to touch his arm—
Another pen met its demise, the plastic cracking beneath Jaxson’s fingers.
“So?” Sofia pressed, entirely too pleased with his reaction. “Are you finally going to do something about it?”
“What I’m going to do,” Jaxson said with forced calm, “is work. You know, that thing some of us do for a living?” He gestured to the stack of files on his desk, the computer screen full of unanswered emails, the calendar packed with appointments.