Chapter 7- JADE
Time stops.
I see myself through Olive Crawford's eyes and I want to disappear into the floor.
My dress is bunched around my waist, my legs wrapped around her son, my hair falling out of its careful arrangement in wild tangles around my face.
Phoenix is still inside me, his pants around his thighs, his hands gripping my hips.
We are frozen in the most compromising position imaginable, surrounded by signed first editions and the weight of Olive's judgment.
Nobody moves or breathes.
Then Phoenix pulls out of me so fast it almost hurts.
He steps back, positioning his body between me and his mother while I frantically tug my dress down over my thighs.
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely grip the fabric.
I hear Phoenix fumbling with his belt behind me, the clink of metal loud in the terrible silence.
"Mom," he starts, and I don't know how his voice can sound so steady when my entire world is crumbling. "This isn't what it looks like."
Olive's expression doesn't change. She stands in the doorway like a statue carved from ice, her posture perfect, her face utterly unreadable. Only her eyes betray any emotion, and what I see there makes my stomach turn to lead.
Disgust. Disappointment.
"I was looking for you," she says, and her voice is perfectly controlled, each word precisely articulated. "Some of the guests wanted to meet your… girlfriend."
The pause before "girlfriend" stretches for an eternity. In that pause, I hear everything she's not saying. That I'm not worthy of her son.
"We'll be right there," Phoenix says. He's managed to get his belt fastened, his shirt tucked in, some semblance of order restored to his appearance. I'm still struggling with my dress strap, my fingers numb and clumsy.
Olive's gaze flicks to me. She takes in my flushed cheeks, my swollen lips, the red marks on my neck where Phoenix's mouth was just moments ago. Her eyes travel down to my bare feet, and I realize with horror that I kicked off my heels at some point and have no idea where they landed.
"Five minutes," she says. "Make yourselves presentable."
She turns and leaves without waiting for a response. The door closes behind her with a soft click that sounds like a guillotine falling.
I stare at the closed door, unable to move. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. My skin is hot with shame, burning from the inside out. I have never been so humiliated in my entire life.
"Oh my God," I whisper. "Oh my God."
"It's fine," Phoenix says, reaching for me.
I step back, out of his grasp. "It's not fine! Your mother just caught us having sex in her library!"
"Jade, listen to me. It's embarrassing, but it's not the end of the world. She's seen worse."
"That doesn't make me feel better!" My voice is rising, edging toward hysteria. I can hear myself and I can't stop.
Despite everything, Phoenix laughs.
The sound is so unexpected that it stops me mid-spiral. I stare at him, incredulous.
"When you put it that way," he says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I punch his arm. Hard. "This isn't funny!"
"It's a little funny."
"It's not! She's going to hate me forever. I'm going to be the story she tells at dinner parties for the rest of her life. 'Remember that horrible girl Phoenix brought home? The one who desecrated my library?'"
Phoenix catches my hands before I can hit him again. He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me despite my attempts to squirm away. His chin rests on top of my head, and I can feel his chest shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Stop laughing," I demand into his shirt. "This is serious."
"I know it is. I'm sorry." He doesn't sound sorry. He sounds like a man who's trying very hard not to laugh and failing miserably. "But Jade, you have to admit, the image of my mother's face when she opened that door is going to be burned into my memory forever."
"That's not a good thing!"
"It's a little bit of a good thing." He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are warm, his expression softening into something more serious. "Hey. Breathe. We're going to get through this."
"She's going to hate me."
"She won’t."
"You didn't see the way she looked at me."
"I saw." He brushes his thumbs across my cheekbones, wiping away tears I didn't realize had started falling. "My mother has a way of expressing displeasure. It's terrifying, I know. But it doesn't mean she hates you. It means she's embarrassed and surprised."
A hysterical laugh bubbles up from my chest. "That makes two of us."
Phoenix kisses my forehead, soft and sweet. "Come on. We need to find your shoes and get back out there before she sends a search party."
We locate my heels near the fireplace. I slip them on and Phoenix helps me fix my hair, tucking stray strands back into place with gentle fingers. He straightens his tie while I check my makeup in the reflection of a glass-fronted bookcase.
I look wrecked. There's no hiding what we've been doing. My lips are swollen, my cheeks are flushed, and there's a mark forming on my neck that no amount of hair rearranging can disguise.
"Ready?" Phoenix asks, offering me his hand.
"No."
"That's the spirit." He laces his fingers through mine and leads me toward the door.
The walk back to the party feels like a death march.
Every step brings us closer to the crowded rooms where Olive is waiting, where a hundred wealthy guests are wondering where Phoenix Crawford and his mysterious girlfriend disappeared to.
I keep my chin up and my expression neutral, but inside I'm screaming.
Olive is across the room when we enter, playing the perfect hostess. She's laughing at something a silver-haired man is saying, her hand resting elegantly on his arm. She doesn't look at us. Doesn't acknowledge our return at all. Somehow, that's worse than if she'd pointed and shouted.
Nicholas catches Phoenix's eye from across the room. He raises one eyebrow.
Phoenix gives a tiny shake of his head. Don't ask.
Nicholas smiles for a moment.
The rest of the evening is torture.
I stand at Phoenix's side and smile and make small talk with people whose names I immediately forget.
I accept a glass of champagne that I don't drink.
I laugh at jokes I don't hear. All the while, I'm acutely aware of Olive moving through the room, always on the opposite side, never coming close enough for us to have to interact.
When we do cross paths, she's coolly polite. "Are you enjoying the party?" she asks at one point, her smile perfect and empty. "I hope you've had a chance to see the gardens. They're lovely this time of year."
"Yes, they're beautiful," I manage, and she's already turning away before I finish the sentence.
The warmth she might have eventually shown me is gone. I can feel it in every interaction and glance. I am no longer Phoenix Crawford's girlfriend, a woman to be welcomed into the family. I am an intruder who violated her home.
By the time we finally leave, my face aches from smiling. My feet throb in my heels. My heart feels like it's been wrung out and hung up to dry.
Phoenix drives in silence, his hand resting on my thigh. The city lights blur past the windows as we wind down from the hills toward the coast. I stare out at the darkness and try to process what just happened.
"She hates me," I say finally, my voice flat.
"She doesn't."
"Don't." I turn to look at him, and I can see the worry in his eyes even in the dim light of the dashboard. "I saw her face. I'm the girl who fucked her son in her sacred library. That's who I am to her now. That's all I'll ever be."
"Jade."
"I was already fighting an uphill battle. Sydney Catalano's daughter, showing up out of nowhere, attaching myself to her son. And now this." I shake my head, feeling the tears threaten again. "I've ruined everything before it even started."
Phoenix reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. His fingers are warm and strong around mine.
"My mother is complicated," he says carefully. "She has high standards. She's protective of our family. But she's not unreasonable. Once she gets to know you, once she sees how much you mean to me, she'll come around."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then she doesn't." His grip tightens on my hand. "You're more important to me than her approval. You're more important to me than anyone's approval."
I want to believe him. I want to trust that love is enough.
But I've seen the way Olive looked at me. The ice in her eyes. The dismissal in her tone.
This isn't over. It's just beginning.
I can't shake the feeling that I've made a powerful enemy tonight.
One who knows where all the bodies are buried.
Or at least, one who might start looking.