Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
JAXON/JAX
Now
Invisible Threads & Patient Wolves
The first mistake is believing the danger has already shown itself.
Andrew spots me as I do my last heavy chest press. “You seem to be handling this thing with Livianna better than I expected you to.”
That alone gives me the strength I need to lift these weights. I place the bar in the barbell rack that holds it in place.
I sit up. “As long as she’s safe and happy, I’ll be fine.”
“Fine.” Andrew motions for me to stand. “That’s an unusual word for you.”
“I use it.”
“Yeah, when you’re speaking of wine.” He gets situated and begins to lift.
I spot him, and while he’s recovering, I cross to the cable machine and adjust the pin to the weight I want.
“When’s the wedding?” Andrew sets his elbows on his knees, catching his breath between sets.
I set my feet, grip the handles, and pull them down in a slow, controlled arc. “September first.”
“Wow. That’s coming up.” Andrew wipes his face with a towel. “Where is it?”
The cable releases. I reset and pull again. “It’s at some beach club in Malibu.”
“Ouch. I know that’s your place.” Andrew stands and stretches his shoulder across his chest, holding it there. “Are you going to go?”
The next pull takes everything I have to keep it measured. Three counts down, three counts back, and I hold the contraction at the bottom until my chest burns the way it should.
“Not likely.”
“Jaxon…” Andrew drops the stretch. “I understand why, but I know her, and she’s going to have a fit.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on it.” I release the weights and step back. “Spot me.”
He positions himself behind the bench. I lie back and grip the bar.
“I’m just saying.” Andrew braces his hands just under the bar without touching it. “You’ve got to eat the meal at some point.”
“I can eat at home.” I press the bar up and lock my elbows. “Ready.”
“Yes. I’ve got you covered.”
I bring the bar down to my chest and drive it back up. Once. Twice. On the third rep, I push harder than I need to.
I bring the bar down again without looking at him. “Are you going?”
“If I get an invitation.” His knuckle taps the bar. “Keep your elbows in.”
I adjust and lift again. The burn climbs through my muscles, and I chase it, lock onto it, because it crowds out everything else.
Livianna loves Malibu, and always has. She’s the reason I bought that house, even if she scared the living shit out of me at the time.
She used to sit on the deck of the Malibu house in the early mornings and meditate by watching the waves crash against the beach. I’d bring coffee out, and she wouldn’t look up. She would just reach back for the mug without missing a thing.
I rack the bar hard. The clang of metal rings out across the gym.
Andrew hands me a towel. “Too heavy?”
“Perfect weight.”
“Sure it was.” He picks up his water bottle. “You know the paparazzi will be in a frenzy. It’s the wedding of the decade. It’s going to be everywhere.”
“I’m aware.” I press the towel to the back of my neck. “That’s why an NDA was sent to all the guests.”
“And not seeing pictures of your lady in a wedding dress is going to be a fun little trick to pull off in the age of social media.”
“She’s not mine anymore.” I rest my palms on my thighs, keeping everything else exactly where it lives. “And you know I don’t read the tabloids or participate on social media.”
Andrew sits beside me and holds the silence for a beat. That alone is suspicious.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He unscrews his water bottle. “Just waiting for you to acknowledge that not only am I stronger than you today, but there’s no way you don’t still think of her as yours.”
I exhale and let it be close enough to a laugh. “You’re relentless.”
“And that’s how I landed my job with you.” Andrew stands and rolls his neck side to side. “For what it’s worth, I think skipping the wedding is the right call. Some rooms you’re not built to survive.”
“I’m built to survive all of them.”
“Yeah.” He crosses to the pull-up bar and grabs it with both hands. “That’s what worries me.”
I return to the cable machine and add ten pounds to the stack. I set my feet and grip the handles.
She’s getting married in September, in Malibu, minutes from where we used to live, and I will not be there.
I pull the cables down and hold the contraction until my lungs remember what discipline actually costs. Andrew finishes his last pull-up and drops from the bar, both feet landing flat on the mat.
“When do you get back to it?” He throws his towel over his shoulder. “Real work. Not board calls from the back of a car.”
I release the weight and straighten. “Natalie has the fourth quarter blocked.”
“For what?”
“Travel abroad. I need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Please tell me, not Asia?”
I reach for my water bottle. “Parts of it.”
Andrew’s stance grows tight. “Jaxon.”
“It’s a region with a lot of opportunities. Opportunities that I understand.” I take a long pull and set the bottle down. “One bad deal doesn’t mean I shy away from the area.”
“Yeah, but that last deal in Malaysia cost you everything that doesn’t show up on a balance sheet.” He gestures to the locker room as he strolls away. “I’m allowed to say that. You pay me to.”
I grab my things and stride toward the showers. “You might have overstepped with that comment.”
“No, I didn’t. You need me to tell you these things.” He follows. “Malaysia broke a part of your portfolio and your entire personal life at the same time. That’s a remarkable double failure, especially for you.”
“Andrew…” I glare in his direction, telling him he’s hitting too hard. “It was a bad investment. Period.”
“The worst you’ve ever made.” He pulls the shirt over his head. “And not because of the money.”
Andrew always gives me one last shot before moving on. I didn’t expect it to stop just from one look. But he’s not wrong, and that is the irritating thing about him. He is rarely wrong on the things that count.
We get cleaned up and changed.
I glance at my watch. “Are you going back to the office?”
“Yes, since I came here with you, but I have a question for you before we leave.”
“What would that be?”
“Do you regret it?” Andrew smooths his clean shirt down. “Malaysia.”
My heart aches, and an emptiness flows over me. “That’s not a productive question.”
“That’s a yes.” He gathers his workout clothes into a ball. “You could have sent me to handle it.”
“Hindsight is a comfortable position to argue from.”
“True.” He stuffs his dirty clothes into his gym bag. “Do you think you’ll ever get over her?”
“No.” The answer is quick and definite.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
If I had never taken that first meeting, none of the rest would have followed. That part of my portfolio holds. Livianna stays in my life, in the house we shared because we loved it there.
And we would be in the version of the future I had never planned out loud but had built in silence, the way you build the things you can’t afford to lose.
I never should’ve gone. That’s not a question or a debate. It’s the only honest sentence I have left on the subject, and I’ve been living inside it ever since.
Andrew slings the bag over his shoulder. “Do we have another meeting to take on our way back?”
I roll my neck from side to side. “Of course. Every minute wasted is another lost shot.”
“Another Jaxonism.” He chuckles. “Do you ever get tired of those motivational sayings you share?”
“Never.” My phone dings with an incoming message.
I pull it out of my pocket and peek at the screen.
Axel: Checked into that safety issue you were worried about.
Me: And?
Axel: No one, and I mean no one, is following the female subject. But there is something you should know.
David, my driver, stops in front of our building. I gesture to Andrew. “I forgot I needed to be elsewhere. You go back to work without me.”
“Anything you say, boss.” He gets out of the car. “Have a nice afternoon. See you tomorrow.”
“You too.” I close the door behind him. “David, do you know where Cash Mayze’s house is in Laurel Canyon?”
“Is that the address you just texted to me?”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes. And I even know of a shortcut.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
“You shouldn’t need it at this time of day, but take it. You can never trust the traffic around here.”
We drive for a while until David pulls the car to a stop along the curb, and I step out before he cuts the engine. The lot is full of construction people coming in and out of the house.
The music coming from inside is raw and gritty. The door swings open before I reach the porch.
A woman steps out with a tablet. “Hi. Are you here for one of the guys?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I let her pass through the doorway. “It’s quite busy around here.”
“Yes, it is. They’re redecorating.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Missy, Mayhem’s content coordinator.”
I shake her hand. “Jaxon Crowne.”
Her eyes grow wide. “It’s great to meet you. I never thought I would.”
“Why is that?”
Her face turns red. “Forgive me, but you’re the most elusive man ever. I’m all over the internet, scouring away for new content. You’re always written about, yet there’s not one picture of you anywhere. How is that possible?”
I adjust my custom-made photo-fracturing pen that’s in my front pocket. “The camera must not like me.”
She laughs. “I doubt that. You’re gorgeous.”
My chest caves in, not ready to hear any compliments from any woman other than Livianna. “As are you.”
“Thanks.” She glances toward the road, growing in stature.
I gaze around at the tools, hoses, and workers scattered around the yard. “It looks like they’re doing more than changing the decor.”
“Honestly?” She shifts the device to her other arm. “The outside looks like the project is failing. The inside looks like it’s ahead of schedule.”
“Which is it?”
“Both, depending on which floor you’re standing on.” She peeks over her shoulder. “The basement is the most complete. That’s where the band is.”
“How long have they been at it?”
“Since before I got here. Three hours, maybe four. They stop when they’re done, not when it’s time.”
“Are they getting anywhere?”