Chapter 5
Savannah
“First thing's first,” I began, sliding the leather folder open and keeping my eyes firmly on the papers —not on the very distracting man sitting across from me.
Jaxon lounged in his chair like we were negotiating beach plans and not a structured, time-bound, reputation-sensitive arrangement. Every time he moved, the muscles in his forearms flexed, and I hated—hated—that I had to force my attention downward.
Stay focused, Savannah. Words. Logic. Boundaries. Not… that.
I cleared my throat and pushed his copy of the contract forward.
“I drafted this with clear expectations, defined terms, and behavioral guidelines to avoid misunderstandings.”
Jaxon arched a brow. “Behavioral guidelines? You make me sound like a child.”
“Well, if the shoe fits,” I said sweetly.
He rolled his eyes and reached for the stack of papers.
I began reading.
---
TEMPORARY ALLIANCE AGREEMENT
This document represents the temporary agreement made between Savannah Bristow (“Party A”) and Jaxon Cage (“Party B”), made on the 9th of November.
It is mutually understood that Party B shall provide the illusion of a relationship for the purpose of a family affair, and agrees to the terms and conditions herein set forth.
Section 1. Duration
1.1 Parties agree to maintain the appearance of a romantic relationship from November 8th to November 22nd.
1.2 No extensions. No renewals.
Section 2. Public Conduct
2.1 Parties agree to maintain believable affection in social settings.
2.2 Party B shall, when necessary, perform the following:
● Holding hands
● Hugging
2.3 Party B shall refrain from:
● Excessive touching
● Public groping
● Unsolicited kissing
---
Jaxon snorted. “Define ‘excessive.’”
“Anything more than a hand on my lower back,” I said crisply.
“The lower back?” he repeated, looking personally insulted. “What am I—your brother? Physical touch is my thing.”
“Section 3,” I continued deliberately.
---
Section 3. Private Conduct
3.1 Parties will create and study personal profiles to memorize important questions, dates, and history. See attachment A.
3.2 Parties will maintain professional boundaries at all times, outside of public events.
3.3 Parties will refrain from physical intimacy beyond what is absolutely necessary to preserve the illusion.
Section 4. Appearance Schedule
4.1 Party B agrees to attend all appearances as outlined below, unless stated otherwise:
● Wedding shower
● Rehearsal dinner
● Bachelor and Bachelorette party
● Wedding
● Reception
● Afterparty (optional)
Section 5. Cancellations
The parties shall be excused from their obligations under this Agreement in the event of extenuating circumstances such as sickness (with proof), accident, riot, epidemic, an act of God, or unforeseen delays/cancellations affecting travel, beyond their respective control.
---
“If you could sign that and hand it back to me, that would be great,” I finished up.
“A true lawyer in the making,” he chuckled, waving the papers at me. “You really think we need this? Sav, it's three weeks.”
“I'm in law school. Any opportunity I get to practice my skills, I'll take it. And you're not the most trustworthy person in the world. Contracts are meant to protect both parties.”
“I take offense to that. I'm very trustworthy.”
“Your track record with me proves otherwise. Now, can you review and sign it so we can move on?”
“I don't know,” he drawled, mischief coloring his eyes as he flipped through the pages. “What if there's something that I don't agree with? Or something that I don't understand? Maybe I should get my own lawyer to look over this.”
“Something you don't understand? I tried to use small words. You know, just in case.” I smiled sweetly.
That wiped the teasing smile off his lips.
“Funny.”
“I thought so.”
“It's cute, though,” Jaxon added, signing the papers and sliding them across the desk. “That you think we can pull this off with zero practice.”
I blinked. “Practice for what?”
“Section three of your little contract doesn't say anything about practicing our dates, kissing, and whatever else.” He leaned forward.
“For this to work, we have to look like we actually want each other.
New couples can't get enough of each other.
That means when I grab you, push you against a wall, and kiss the fuck out of you, it can't be… awkward.”
My pulse stuttered simply from the thought of that. A flash of heat came over me. The image of him trapping me to a wall, pressed against me, with nothing between us had my legs clenching together.
“I mean, for all I know, you’re a terrible kisser.”
“I do not need practice,” I said, lifting my chin as I squared the pages in my hands. “I am a fabulous kisser.”
His grin sharpened like a blade sliding free of its sheath. “Sure you are.”
God, the smugness of this man.
“I am,” I snapped.
“Then prove it.”
I almost dropped the contract. “Excuse me?”
“We need a baseline, Bookie.”
My glare could have put him through the ground. “Call me that again and I’ll—”
“—prove it,” he repeated, slower, deeper, deliberately taunting.
Before I could assemble a rebuttal with any semblance of dignity, he pushed up from his chair and started toward me. No—stalked toward me. Measured, unhurried steps. Eyes locked onto mine with unsettling focus.
I tracked his every move. The slow, deliberate steps he was taking as he rounded the table. Every footfall tightened something low in my stomach. I forced my spine straight, jaw set, pretending I was unaffected even though every rational neuron in my brain hissed danger, danger, danger.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hating the breathy edge to my voice.
He didn’t answer.
He reached me, close enough that I inhaled his cologne—burnt nutmeg, star anise, and something smoky-sweet that clung to his skin. It wrapped around me like a spell. Illegal.
Absolutely illegal.
With a flick of his wrist, he turned my chair fully toward him. My breath hitched. He didn’t look away once. Not when he braced his palms on either side of me. Not when he stepped between my knees. Not when he leaned in, slow and calculated, until his breath skimmed my upper lip.
His eyes dipped to my lips.
“Show me,” he murmured.
I froze. “What?”
He leaned in again, closing the space between us. I swallowed. Hard. “If you’re as good as you say you are, then show me,” he continued in that low, sensual tone.
“I—” I swallowed, trying—and failing—to steady my voice. “I don't have to prove anything to you.”
His gaze dropped to my lips again, making my pulse flutter. “You do if you want this to work.”
The room tilted. Or maybe it was just me. Something clearly wasn't right—maybe I was getting sick. It would explain the heat curling through my chest. I blamed poor ventilation.
It was a mistake to have him this close; a mistake to stare into his eyes and find those dark irises tainted with curiosity; a catastrophic mistake to look down at his lips and lick my own—his eyes darkened after doing that.
I should have pushed him away, but I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
The air around us tightened, tugging us closer together, making it impossible to breathe. This was illogical. He was only doing this to get a reaction out of me—deep down, I knew that, so why couldn't I look away?
He leaned in, so close now that his nose brushed against mine. A gasp flew out my lips when his nose brushed against mine. So close. I found my eyes fluttering closed and—
A sharp knock shattered the moment.
“Jax?” Nerissa’s voice called. “Your consult’s here!”
My eyes flew open. I jerked back so fast, my chair scraped the floor. What the hell was I about to do?
He didn’t move right away, just hung his head low. When his gaze lifted and met mine, there was a spark there that I absolutely did not want to interpret.
Then he straightened slowly—too slowly—and stepped back.
“The consult with Wolfe shouldn't take long,” he said, voice lower than before. “I’ll take you home after.”
And then he was gone.
The moment the door shut behind him, I exhaled hard. There was no stopping the thundering of my traitorous heart.
What the hell was that?
No, really—what was that?
That wasn’t a normal interaction with two people that hated each other.
That was…
My brain refused to finish the sentence.
Because finishing it meant acknowledging the heat that had flushed my skin. The way I’d leaned into his space. The way my eyes had dropped to his mouth like some hopeless, romance-drunk idiot.
No. Absolutely not. I refused.
He was the same boy who’d humiliated me. The same boy who’d made my life hell. His apology didn’t erase that. His tattoos didn’t distract from that. And his stupid, perfect mouth definitely didn’t—
I cut the thought off and started packing my things.
I needed to leave. Immediately.
Grabbing my phone, I pulled up the rideshare app and scrolled through the options. I was perfectly calm. I had to be.
“Pull yourself together, Savannah,” I muttered.
Just request the car. Just leave. Just—
The office door swung open.
I nearly launched my phone across the room, thinking it was him.
Nerissa poked her head in. “Hey, babe. I’m just checking in on you.”
“Right, yes. I'm good, thanks.”
“Why do you look so… flushed? Ugh, did Jax forget to turn the heat off again?” She walked in and shut the door behind her, marching to the air conditioning.
“No! I'm just—” I cleared my throat. “Naturally hot.”
She smirked. “That you are.” She plopped into Jaxon’s chair, propped one tattooed forearm on the table, and grinned. “So. You and Jax?
I nearly combusted. “No. Absolutely not. We’re not—there’s nothing—we’re definitely not.”
She raised a brow.
“We're just childhood… acquaintances.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I pressed my palms to the table, forcing composure. “He’s just… helping me out with something. With an ex.”
“An ex?” Her eyebrows shot up and a smile shaped her lips. “There we go—the drama. Spill.”
I hesitated. “I don't really…”
“Did he steal from you? Oh, fuck. I had an ex who stole for the fun of it. Asshole took my anklet while I was sleeping and had the nerve to lie about it. There's no way he cheated. Who would cheat on you? No way,” she added after seeing my expression.
I forced a smile. “Clearly, he didn't share those sentiments.”
“What a dick.”
“We dated for five years,” I said finally. “I thought he was going to be my future. Then I walked in on him cheating on me. With my cousin. They’re getting married this month.”
Nerissa’s entire face twisted. “Oh, hell no.”
“I tried to be… composed. The night I found them together, I just lost it. Yelled, threw the ring at his face, and just walked out.”
“You were engaged to the man?”
I nodded. “I told myself I could just erase their existence from my mind and just move on. I thought it was one time—a mistake, as he called it—but they’d been together long enough to justify an engagement. I didn’t know any of it.”
“Okay, first of all,” she said, sitting up straighter, hands in the air, “your ex is a fucking asshole. I mean, who cheats on their fiancée with their family member? Sounds like small dick syndrome.”
A laugh escaped me. Barely. But enough.
“And your cousin? Is her name slut, or was she always envious of your relationship?”
Despite myself, I smiled. I didn't even have to tell her about Lori for her to understand the type of person she was.
“It shouldn't have surprised me that she went after him, but God. They really… hurt me. And I don’t want to care, but I do. I hate that I care. I feel angry, and stupid, and embarrassed.”
“They're the ones who should feel like that. Don't even.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “It's insane. I just… I thought I knew him. I saw a whole future with him, and he was just playing me.”
Nerissa reached across the table, tapping my hand.
“Savannah. Listen to me. His. Fucking. Loss.” She pointed at me, head shake filled with attitude.
“You are a stunner. You think you’re gonna miss some man who can’t keep it in his pants?
I don't care if he's Maddox money rich, no man's worth it if he can't keep his dick to himself.”
I blinked rapidly. Tears threatened to fall, and I felt even more ridiculous.
“No crying,” she sternly said. “You’ll ruin your makeup, and then I’ll have to fight a bitch. Forget him—he has a tiny dick anyway.”
I laughed again, softer. “Thank you.”
It felt… God, it felt good to talk to a woman about this. With how much I studied, I was never good at making friends, so it was a breath of fresh air just to have this conversation with an unbiased person.
“Anytime.” She leaned back, eyes warm now. “And look, everyone needs a rebound. Or twelve. We’re going out tonight.”
“Oh, no, I don’t really—”
“We’re going out,” she repeated.
“I have class in the morning. And outlines. And a moot court brief—”
“We’re going out.”
“I don’t really do bars, and I have nothing to wear—”
“Savannah.” She put a hand on her chest. “Babe. Sweetheart. New light of my life. We’re going out.”
I sighed in defeat. “Fine.”
Her grin turned triumphant, wicked. “Good.”
“Only for an hour or two.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Relax. It's a Sunday night, so it won't be anything crazy. Some drinks. And dancing. And some man is going to buy you overpriced tequila just for breathing.”
I shook my head, but my chest felt lighter, calmer. It would be good to have some alone girl time. This week had been stressful enough, so I was onboard with forgetting it.
What's the worst that could happen?