Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
JAXON/JAX
Rewind To This Morning
Suit Up & Be A Man
If I don’t fight now, I’ll lose her to a version of me that never showed up.
No more waiting and no more protecting Livianna from my past. It’s time I be the man she deserves.
I stand in my walk-in closet at six in the morning, staring at rows of shirts that blur together into a monotone wall. Black. Grey. Navy. They’re all carefully curated uniforms of a man who’s spent years blending into boardrooms and maintaining invisibility.
I stop on a blue linen button-down pushed between the darker colors. She wore this shirt once at the Malibu house while pretending to clean the kitchen.
I can still picture her with bare legs beneath the oversized fabric, sleeves rolled up past her elbows. She dances to a pop song I don’t recognize while pretending to clean the quartz countertop.
I’m sitting at the center island working on my laptop.
She wipes down a centerpiece. “You’re staring at me.”
She didn’t turn around, so how did she know?
I decide to call her bluff. “I’m reading an email.”
“You’re staring at me while acting like you’re doing something else.” She peeks over her shoulder with that knowing smile that always undoes me. “There’s a difference, Jax.”
I’m behind her, taking her before she knows what’s coming. We have sex right then and there.
My chest grows warm with the memory as I pull the shirt from its hanger. The material is softer than my usual starched cotton, less like armor and more like something a normal man would wear on a day when honesty matters more than image.
It’s a small choice that shows her I’m done hiding from her. I’m done with the secrets, strategy, and careful distance I convinced myself would keep her safe when all it did was push her straight into Cash’s arms.
Last night, after I received her message, I didn’t sleep at all. After I sent Axel a directive to keep an eye on her, knowing how wrong it was, I laid in bed replaying every moment of yesterday’s disaster in my office.
She was waiting for me once I was over my panic attack. The shattered expression on her face when I dismissed her with the cold professionalism I’ve perfected over years of high-stakes negotiations was a throat punch. But that didn’t stop me from trying to push her away.
She told me she loved me and would’ve been at the Malibu house waiting for me if she’d gotten my letter. I threw it all away by telling her to be happy with Cash as if I were closing a business deal instead of watching my entire future walk out the door.
I coil into myself. I’ve spent over two years falling in love with her, and that’s how I treat her? She deserves better, and now I’m going to be that man for her.
The truth is brutal and simple. Losing her costs more than any danger I’ve been trying to protect her from. It’s better if she’s with me, not far away where I don’t know what’s going on around her.
I work my arms into the blue shirt and button it, leaving the collar open. I’m wearing dark slacks but no tie.
When I look in the mirror, my reflection shows a man preparing for an honest conversation instead of a negotiation. That’s exactly what I need to be today.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I make coffee and scan over my calendar, which Natalie just updated. My schedule isn’t as packed as I thought it would be.
Good. Maybe I can get to Livianna sooner than I planned. I close my laptop and glance at my phone. She hasn’t sent a text after the one I received last night. It’s my move to make.
It’s early, though. She’s probably still asleep after the emotional beating I put her through yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s exhausted from carrying the weight of confusion and pain I created.
I’m going to tell her about Julian Everhart. It’s the name I was born with before I became Jaxon Crowne. She needs to know about the enemies who’ve been hunting me for decades.
I want her to know the reason I gave her the beach house. I need her to understand my heart has belonged to her since the moment she challenged me on our first date.
She deserves the truth. Not my version of protection that must seem like I’m keeping her at arm’s length. How can it not appear that way? It’s how I’ve constructed our relationship.
My rigid walls have to feel like rejection. Today she’ll get honesty and the freedom to decide if loving me is worth the danger that comes with it.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from a blocked number, confirming the surveillance team is positioned around her house. This message is from Axel.
I’m not apologizing for putting security on her. If she chooses me, she needs to understand this is what safety looks like in my world. If she doesn’t choose me, at least I’ll know she’s protected from threats she doesn’t even know exist.
The drive to my office takes twenty minutes through empty morning streets. Los Angeles at this hour is suspended between night and day, quiet and full of possibility.
I used to love this time of morning for its solitude and clarity. Now I just want to get through the day fast enough to see her as soon as I can.
Natalie and Quinn are already in my office when I arrive at seven-thirty. Their laptops are open and coffee cups are in their hands. Steam rises from the hot liquid in the mugs.
I gesture to their drinks. “Careful with those. Otherwise, it’s going to burn your tongue.”
Quinn jumps in first. “Jaxon, we’re capable of knowing how hot our drinks are.”
“Of course you are.” My cheeks heat. “I was just making conversation.”
I set up for our review. Quinn queues the quarterly projections, numbers that decide who rises and who folds.
Expansion blueprints sprawl across three continents, each awaiting my signature to shift markets. Three merger proposals sit waiting, billions disguised as PDFs.
It’s a typical morning in the empire I built, measured in decimals and ruled by restraint. Every decision is a calculated detonation. Every win is another reason to fight for what I’ve already lost.
The problem is my mind refuses to cooperate today. My thoughts keep drifting to Livianna waking up, probably wondering if I really meant what I said about her future being with Cash.
“Jaxon?” Quinn’s voice breaks through my distraction. “Did you catch the question?”
“No. I’m sorry, please repeat it.”
She exchanges a glance with Natalie that carries obvious concern. “I asked about the Singapore acquisition timeline. Do we move forward now or wait for the regulatory review to come back?”
“Move forward. We’ve delayed long enough.” The words come out edged with frustration that has nothing to do with Singapore. “I’m tired of waiting for perfect conditions that’ll never come.”
Natalie’s eyebrow arches, but she doesn’t comment on the obvious subtext bleeding through my answer. We work through the agenda with the efficiency I’ve built my reputation on.
Market analyses project volatility next quarter across several continents. Investment portfolios need rebalancing. Risk assessments lay out scenarios where ventures either multiply our capital exponentially or crater spectacularly.
The rhythm is familiar and usually satisfying—power, money, and control measured in data points and strategic decisions. Today is different. I just want to be done.
My phone lights up on the table between us. I never look at my phone during meetings. Ever.
It’s a rule I’ve maintained for over a decade because it keeps business sacred and sets boundaries everyone respects. But this time, my hand moves before I can stop it.
Quinn and Natalie both freeze mid-sentence. They’re staring at me like I’ve just announced I’m retiring and moving to a monastery. They know this means something significant because I’ve never broken this ritual before.
The screen shows a preview that makes my pulse spike. Mon Trésor.
I unlock my phone and read the full message while my pulse races through my veins.
Mon Trésor: I’m sure you got my message and I understand why you haven’t responded. Can we meet? I need to talk to you. Just us. I need to explain why I never told you about Callum. I just want you to understand how I feel about you.
My chest tightens until breathing becomes difficult. She wants to explain. She wants me to understand how she feels. The honesty in those words cut through all of my last defenses.
I want to text her back immediately, tell her I’m leaving right now and driving straight to her. I want to say that everything I told her yesterday was fear disguised as protection, and I’m done being afraid because the only thing I’m truly terrified of is a life without her.
Quinn and Natalie’s eyes are both wide with barely concealed curiosity. They’re likely trying to read an expression I usually keep locked down tight.
I type one word because it’s all I can manage without my hands shaking.
Me: When?
Her response comes back within seconds.
Mon Trésor: What does your day look like? Can we meet sometime today?
Perfect. It’s exactly what I want. My heart pounds so hard I’m surprised they can’t hear it across the conference table.
Me: I’ll be in touch. I’ve got a lot I need to take care of.
I set the phone face down and force myself to gaze up at two women who are clearly dying to ask questions they’re too professional to voice.
“Is…everything all right?” Natalie gestures to my phone.
“Yes. Just something personal I need to handle later.” I point to the projection still frozen on the screen behind them. “Where were we on the renewable energy division?”
Quinn clears her throat. “Jaxon, if you need to reschedule this meeting, we can absolutely push everything to tomorrow.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m fine. Please continue.”
I’m not fine. I’m mentally calculating how fast I can get through this agenda and the other issues I need to address today so I can leave and drive to Malibu. An image forms in my mind.