Chapter 2
Chapter Two
JAXON/JAX
Two & A Half Weeks Before Now
The Night I Lose My Grip
There’s danger in wanting what I was never meant to have… But I’ve wanted nothing more.
Being brokenhearted like I am is foreign to me. Before Livianna, I never loved anyone. She may not know how I feel, but it’s better this way. Especially now.
I raise my gaze just as she rounds the corner. I forget my worries as soon as I notice she’s trembling.
She strides toward our table in the center of the bistro, holding her head high, but her face is on fire. I’ve seen her angry before, but this is beyond that.
What happened in that restroom?
I stand and rush to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just get me to the table.”
I place my hand on her lower back to soothe her. She tenses and marches away from me.
As my brain searches for a solution, I hurry to her chair and pull it out. She slams herself down and I push it in for her.
I pause for a second but know what to do. This night has to go well and starting off with her as mad as an irritated wasp will take us in a completely different direction. One I dread because I don’t want to lose her forever.
I already did some damage on the way here and I will rectify that. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek.
Her eyes widen. “Jaxon! What are you thinking?”
Her snapping at me takes me aback. She doesn’t behave this way with me. My muscles tighten.
“That you should know I care.” I grind on my molars and sit. “Tell me why you’re acting out and behaving like a spiteful child.”
It might not be the right thing to say, but what I’ve learned about her over the last couple of years is sometimes she needs me to demand control and get her out of her venomous, wild ways. She has confided in me that it makes her feel safe and secure when I do.
“Livianna, answer me.”
Still nothing from her but a hateful glare toward the front of the restaurant. My pulse kicks up with her lack of response.
She stares past me with her chest heaving. I glance over my shoulder. There’s a woman with brown hair I recognize but can’t place where I’ve seen her before. Her devious scowl in Livianna’s direction is enough to have me rising to my feet.
That woman needs to leave now!
Right as I stand, she takes her two index fingers and swipes one over the other in a tsk, tsk motion.
She shakes her head and mouths to Livianna, “Naughty. Naughty.”
My blood boils. I take one step to get this woman removed from the bistro.
“No, Jax! Please don’t give her any more leverage.” The vulnerability in Livianna’s terrified voice stops me in my tracks. “That’s what she wants.”
I return to my seat and take a moment to breathe. We both need the time to calm down.
As commanding as I am with Livianna, I hate seeing her angry, scared, and hurt. She gets defiant when she is. The result is her putting on an ugly iron mask and acting like she couldn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything.
When her emotions fester because she has no outlet, she takes them out on herself in destructive ways. I’ve seen it for myself and it’s downright alarming.
Livianna’s shoulders lower a bit. “I’m sorry I treated you like I did. It wasn’t your fault and I took it out on you.”
Again, I peek toward the front of the bistro. The woman is gone. The muscles in my tight neck loosen.
I turn back to Livianna. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s clear that woman was goading you on.”
“You could say that.” Livianna’s face pulls into a frown. “Why did I let that bitch get to me? I’m so mad at myself I could scream.”
“Who is she anyway?”
“Her name is Zara Blackthorn. When I had my TV show, Ember From Denver, she had a recurring guest role. We never got along.”
“Your reaction wasn’t because of a petty childhood rivalry. Tell me the real reason she got under your skin.”
Livianna straightens her back, takes a drink of water, and averts my gaze. There’s that horrific shield getting ready to snap into place.
My instincts kick in. I’m a skilled negotiator and reading people is one of my strengths. She’s hiding something from me. I don’t know why she is, but I’m never wrong about these things.
“Excuse me for a minute.” I push my chair back and stand.
Her brows crease together. “Where are you going?”
I peer down at her with understanding. “You’re feeling exposed and unprotected. Our table is in the center of the room, so I’m going to request they move us to a more suitable area.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m perfectly happy here.”
“If you say I’m off base about my awareness of your needs, I’ll sit and we can continue our discussion. Otherwise, I’m going to find a place where you feel safe enough to talk to me. Openly and honestly.”
“Jax…” Her gaze flits around the room. “Don’t.”
“Tell me I’m wrong in my assessment and I’ll leave it alone.”
She gives me the telltale sign. She fidgets with her bracelets and runs her fingernail over the rose tattoos on her wrist, yet still makes no eye contact.
I dip down to put myself in her line of sight. “You’re not in the bathroom anymore and you’re not fourteen. You’re twenty-three and in a restaurant with me. No one can hurt you here, but I suspect it would make for a more pleasant evening if you had more privacy.”
She pauses for a few beats and glances down, now adjusting the silverware. “You’re right. I would be more comfortable at a different table. I feel like everyone is staring at me.”
“Very well. I’ll be right back.” I leave, determined to get this night back on track.
After speaking with the manager and giving him some excuse as to why I want to move, he makes the changes. He seats us in an area on the other side of the bistro and in a back corner.
Much better.
Livianna’s already more relaxed. Her blue eyes shine brighter, her breathing has leveled off, and she’s back to her normal color.
“Thanks for calling me out back there.” She shakes her head. “I know better than to react like that in public.”
“Enough about that. Let’s get back to what this Zara woman did to provoke you.” I rest back against my chair, opening the space between us.
Livianna needs to feel like I’m listening, not giving her the third degree. Right as she starts to answer, our server approaches us. He goes over the specials and we order a bottle of wine. Once he leaves, I gesture for her to begin the conversation.
She places her folded arms on the table, inching closer to me. “Zara came into the restroom and asked me why I was back in town. I shouldn’t have engaged with her, but I’m proud my design house is doing well and… I guess I wanted to rub it in her face.”
“Good for you.” I chuckle. “Even if the reason you shared was a little childish, you should be proud of how well you’re doing. You’re young and not many people get to where you are at your age.”
“How old were you when you hit it big?”
“Twenty-six. Three years older than you were when you did.”
“Actually, I was fourteen when I started making real money. With my licensing agreement from The Ember line beginning then, I had it made.”
“You’ve had a good run so far. I can only imagine how much farther you’ll go.”
“Yeah, I’ve done well, but I feel like I cheated somehow.”
“Hence your tattoo.”
She scrunches her nose up. “What?”
“The tattoo on your chest. The heart with one black and one white lily inside it, and the money sign going through the stems.”
Her eyes round. “What’s that got to do with this?”
“You said it symbolizes the good and bad sides of beauty, love, and money.”
“I’m still not getting it.”
I shrug. “You feel like you cheated, which is a negative thought. But you worked hard and deserved it, therefore you were paid well. That’s the positive side of the situation.”
“Ah… Yeah, right.” She scratches at her skin near the lilies as if she has hives.
That’s concerning. I wait to make sure she doesn’t move to her wrists.
She pulls in a rush of air. “Anyway, I learned all I could about building a brand. As much as I hate the acting industry, I’m grateful for my time as a child megastar.”
“Like I always say, every road traveled leads to a path of opportunity.” I shift closer, reaching for her hand.
She slides her palm into mine. “You’ve proven your point. If I hadn’t gone to Paris to track you down to get your help and learn about the fashion industry, I never would’ve gotten to know you.”
“We’ll always have Paris.” My heart cracks, but I hide it with a gentle smile. “Tell me what happened earlier that upset you.”
“Jax, she’s cruel.” Livianna squeezes my hand, releases it, and folds her arms over her chest. “I slipped, saying I needed to get back to my date, but realized she would see me with you, so I tried to cover it up by quickly saying it was a meeting.”
“And that made you angry?”
“No. It wasn’t that. She mentioned she knew you were helping me with my business. Once she realized I was calling our dinner together a date, she made some snide comment about getting involved with a family friend. She said it would turn out terribly.”
“Meaning she knows issues with your dad will arise if he ever finds out.” My pulse races. “She has no proof of why we’re here, so if she wants to run to the tabloids, let her. We can easily explain it away.”
Livianna’s eyes fill with pain, and I’m taken aback by her once again. I’m about to ask her why when the server returns with our wine. It’s excruciating waiting for him to open it, have me sample it, give the go-ahead to serve it, and pour it.
I know her well enough to know she uses the time to detach from her sadness, so I let it go. Once he leaves, I try to get back to the issue I must address.
“Here’s to your success, finding each other, and hopefully never forgetting what our relationship means to us.” I lift my glass.
She toasts with me. “To all that and more.”
We take a drink and settle back into our discussion.
She leads this time. “When you say you don’t want us to forget about what we are to one another, what are you getting at?”