Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
JAXON/JAX
Then
Saving A Submissive & Grave Decisions
Anyone can strike. Anyone can take. But it’s what you do when the cuffs come off that shows who you really are.
My touch is gentle as I assess the marks across Livianna’s backside. The welts are perfect, raised but not broken, red but not bleeding.
She responded beautifully, and hopefully the release she found was exactly what she needed. I wrap her in a blanket.
Her skin is damp with sweat, and her body is still trembling from the flood of chemicals I knew would hit her harder than most. She was holding on to too much.
Once I’ve guided her to the bed, I run a cool cloth down her back and over the marks blooming like red roses beneath her skin. I’m in awe of her.
She bursts into tears. Not the quiet kind. Not a fragile slip of a tear down the cheek. These come hard and messy, ripping straight from her chest like the kind she’s been swallowing for years.
I kiss her shoulders, stroke her hair with slow fingers, and hold her tighter. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
She clings to me like I’m the only thing tethering her to the earth, sobbing into my chest. My jaw flexes against the surge of protectiveness that roars through me.
This isn’t weakness. It’s a release. But fuck if it doesn’t tear me open. She curls into herself despite my arms around her, and I recognize the signs immediately.
Sub drop.
She’s having a Sub drop. I should have known it would hit her this way. Livianna may fight me with every ounce of her defiance, but when she finally lets go, she’s the most sensitive woman I’ve ever held.
When she surrenders the fierce control she wields like armor, she becomes raw nerve endings and exposed emotion.
Fuck.
I should’ve seen this coming. Of course, her system would crash hard after such an intense first experience.
I rock her gently, whispering to her and letting her cries bleed out until the wails soften into shuddered breaths. My chest is damp with tears. My arms ache from how tight she needs to be held, but I don’t let go.
“You’re safe, mon trésor.” I kiss her forehead. “Every piece of you.”
She remains shaky and tense. She needs more.
“Hey, look at me.” I cup her face, forcing her glossy eyes to meet mine. “What you’re feeling right now is normal. Your body just released a massive flood of chemicals, and now it’s trying to find its baseline again.”
“I feel…” She struggles for words through the tears. “Empty. But not the good kind anymore. Like I’m hollow. All the darkness inside me is taking me under.”
“That’s the drop. It’s temporary.” I pull the soft blanket around both of us, creating a cocoon of warmth. “Your brain is convinced something is wrong because the endorphin high is fading, but you’re not broken. You’re not damaged. This is your nervous system recalibrating.”
I reach for the chocolate I always keep nearby, breaking off a piece and pressing it to her lips. “Small bites. The sugar will help.”
She takes it obediently, and I continue the aftercare ritual that’s as important to me as it is to her. Water, gentle touches, and constant reassurance.
I check her wrists for any chafing from the restraints, massage her shoulders, and keep talking to her in low, soothing tones.
“You were incredible tonight.” I rub the salve my company produces, the same stuff used in all the Beckett’s clubs, into her skin. “You’re so brave. So trusting. I’m honored you let me be the one to take you there.”
Gradually, her breathing evens out. She melts against me with a soft sigh, and I know the worst of the drop has passed.
But now my own reckoning begins.
The call from my executive team came yesterday, the one I’ve been dreading for months. My companies in the States are hemorrhaging without my direct oversight.
The deals I’ve been managing remotely are falling apart. They need me back in California, and not just for a quick visit. It’ll be for six months—possibly longer.
The timing couldn’t be worse. Not when Livianna is just finding her footing with her brand. Not when we’ve finally built something meaningful between us.
Her lashes flutter, eyes swollen but luminous as she peeks up at me. “Why are you so good to me?”
Because you’re the only thing that matters. Because you’ve ruined me for anyone else. Because I’m about to destroy this sanctuary we’ve built by telling you I have to leave.
But I don’t say any of that. Not yet.
I ease her down against the pillows, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. I press water to her lips, kiss her forehead, hold her, and let the quiet do the work words can’t.
When the trembling subsides altogether and she’s curled against me with that fragile trust still etched in her expression, the weight of the truth presses against my ribs.
“Jax?” Her voice is small and uncertain. “Are you okay? You’re tense.”
I realize I’ve gone rigid against her, my mind spiraling through impossible choices. “I’m fine. Just focused on taking care of you.”
But she knows me too well now. She shifts in my arms to study my face, and I see the exact moment she recognizes that I’m holding something back.
“What aren’t you telling me, Jax?”
The question hangs between us like a blade ready to slice us apart. I could deflect. Change the subject. Take her back to bed and distract us both with pleasure until morning. But she deserves better than my avoidance.
I clear my throat to erase any emotion. “Livianna…there’s something we need to talk about.”
Her gaze sharpens instantly, that designer intuition reading me like a fabric she’s about to cut. “What?”
I inhale and exhale, but the words taste like betrayal. “I have to move back to the States. Business is pulling me there. And it won’t be weeks or a few months. It’s longer.”
Her body goes still, the air between us tightening like a drawn bow. I hold her face in my hands, force her to see that I’m not asking, not demanding. I’m giving her the power to decide even though every nerve in me wants to beg.
“Livianna, you can come with me. Or you can stay in Paris, where you’ve found yourself, where you’ve built something that’s yours. It’s your choice.”
She appears to be processing the information, and the walls start to rebuild themselves behind her eyes. The vulnerability from our scene is already retreating, replaced by the ugly iron mask she wears against the world.
“When?” Her voice is neutral now.
“Soon.”
Her eyes glisten again, but this time the tears don’t fall. They burn, caught between pain and anger.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb, aching at the distance already stretching between us. “Whatever you choose, Livianna, I’ll respect it. But I need you to know I don’t walk away from you lightly.”
She nods. Then she pulls away from me, reaching for her robe. The loss of her warmth feels like a physical wound.
“Livianna—”
“It’s fine.” But nothing in her posture suggests she’s being truthful. “This was always temporary, right? You made that clear from the beginning. You told me not to mistake anything we would do for romance or love, and I accepted that fact.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Isn’t it?” She stands, tying the belt around her waist with shaking fingers. “You’re moving and going back to a place that leaves me…bare.”
She turns to leave. I rise, catching her wrist before she can run away.
“Come with me and together we’ll change that.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, raw and desperate. “You can find yourself there with me by your side. We’ll make it work, and you can live with me until you don’t want to anymore.”
I didn’t mean to beg. Hell, I haven’t even fully admitted to myself how much I want her to come. But now that it’s out there, I realize how much I need her answer to be yes.
Her eyes widen with shock. “What?”
“Move with me to California. We can figure out the business logistics and get you set up there. Your brand is practically digital anyway. You can design from anywhere.”
For a moment, hope flickers across her features. Then reality crashes back in.
“I can’t just uproot my entire life for you, Jax. Everything I’ve built is here. My connections, my market position, and my identity as Lehlani Rose Designs. It’s all tied to Paris. This is where I finally found myself.”
“You found yourself here, but you’ll flourish anywhere.”
“Will I? Or would I just become another accessory to your empire?” Her skin flushes bright pink. “I’ve spent my whole life bending myself into shapes other people wanted. I can’t do that again. Not even for you.”
The truth in her words cuts deep because I know she’s right.
I’m asking her to sacrifice everything she’s worked for, everything she’s become, to follow me into a world where she’ll be forced to face all her demons while I’m too busy to support her through it.
But the alternative—losing her—feels impossible to accept.
“So…what are you saying?” I ask, though I already know.
“I’m saying we both knew this had an expiration date.” She rebuilds her walls in real time and disappears behind them. “Maybe it’s better to end it on a high note instead of dragging it out and watching it die slowly.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“But it’s what makes sense.” She strides toward the door, then pauses. “Thank you for tonight. For showing me I could trust someone with that part of myself. But I think...this needs to be our last scene.”
She leaves me standing there, surrounded by the tools of pleasure and release, feeling more empty than I’ve felt in years.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve spent the last year and a half teaching her about surrender, about the power of letting go.
But now, when it matters most, I’m the one who can’t release my grip on control long enough to choose love over success. And I’m terrified that by the time I figure out how to let go, it’ll be too late.
It’s been two hours since she left me, and that’s way too much time for me. I knock on her apartment door and wait. I’ve got to convince her to go back to California with me.