Chapter 232 - 0232: I Know I Am

Chapter 232: Chapter 0232: I Know I Am

Elena’s Point Of View

I glared at him, and if looks could kill, Jaxx would’ve been six feet under already, buried deep, headstone engraved with "died from audacity."

He was still up there on the VIP landing, leaning like he owned the damn place, like the whole building had been constructed just so he could sprawl against its railings and look insufferably pleased with himself. The nerve of him, standing there so casually, like my fury was just another form of entertainment laid out for his amusement, like my whole night revolved around whether he felt like moving his feet.

My irritation boiled over.

"Aren’t you coming?" I snapped, my voice cutting through the hum of music and low conversations. "Why are you still up there?"

He tilted his head, pretending to think, one brow lifting slowly, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward, that lazy, dangerous smirk sliding into place like it had been waiting its turn, like he’d rehearsed this exact moment and was savoring finally getting to use it.

"Oh?" he said, his voice smooth and low, carrying over the balcony without him even trying to raise it. "I thought you were annoyed and stormed off. What caused the sudden change of heart, princess?"

Princess.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain. The nickname landed somewhere I didn’t want to examine too closely, some small traitorous part of me that warmed at the sound of it despite everything, despite knowing exactly what he was doing and why.

"Stop this nonsense," I said sharply, planting my hand on my hip. "And come down here. Right now, Jaxx. I am not standing at the bottom of these stairs looking up at you like you’re royalty."

"You say that," Jaxx countered, tapping his index finger against the polished oak railing, "yet you’re still standing there, staring up. Seems to me you don’t mind the view."

"The view is appalling," I retorted instantly. "Come down before I leave you here."

"Go ahead," he said, not budging an inch. "Walk out. See how far you get."

The reaction around us was immediate, too immediate. The two bodyguards stationed near the stairs stiffened, actually stiffened, and one of them widened his eyes, not subtly either, like I’d just walked up and slapped a loaded gun out of someone’s hand. The other shifted his stance, gaze darting between me and Jaxx like he wasn’t sure who he should be more worried about, like he was recalculating the odds of this ending badly and didn’t like the new numbers.

I frowned, wondering what their problem was, and glanced around, suddenly more aware of the space I was standing in... the VIP level buzzing with low laughter and clinking glasses, expensive cologne and perfume hanging thick in the air, men in tailored suits wearing watches that probably cost more than my car, faces I recognized though I couldn’t place most of the names.

And that’s when it hit me. I knew some of these men, not personally-personally, but enough. Powerful men, wealthy men, the kind who didn’t lower their voices for anyone and didn’t flinch, the kind who owned rooms simply by existing in them. Yet every single one of them, every last one, had greeted Jaxx last night with something else layered into their voices, something careful and cautious and close to fear.

I remembered it clearly now, the way conversations had paused when he walked in, how shoulders straightened, how laughter softened, how words were chosen carefully, like everyone was suddenly hyperaware of saying the wrong thing in front of him.

Even now, I could feel it. The way eyes flicked toward him and then away, the way men who looked untouchable suddenly seemed aware of him, like his presence recalibrated something in the room that none of them could name out loud. Respect wasn’t a strong enough word for it. It was deference, and I didn’t understand why.

What the hell was it about him? He wasn’t loud, he wasn’t showy, and he didn’t announce himself. He just was, and somehow that was enough to make men with money and power tread carefully around him, choosing their words like they were walking across thin ice. A cold thread of unease wound through my chest, twisting alongside the irritation I’d been nursing all night, and I didn’t like how neither feeling seemed willing to let go of the other.

I swallowed, and I didn’t like how little I knew about the man standing above me, didn’t like how much control he seemed to have without even trying, and really didn’t like how comfortable he looked watching me lose my patience. It unsettled me more than I wanted to admit, this gap between what I thought I understood about him and whatever this was, this quiet, simmering thing that made grown men flinch and made me, apparently, the only person brave or stupid enough to shout at him in public.

Jaxx chuckled softly, pushing off the railing at last, but not coming down, of course not. He folded his arms instead, gaze locked on me, dark and amused, like he had all the time in the world and nowhere better to spend it than watching me unravel.

"Careful, Bambina," he said mildly. "You talk to me like that in public, people might start getting ideas."

I scoffed. "Ideas about what? That you’re being annoying?"

His smile sharpened, the glint in his eye growing darker. "That you’re brave."

The word landed heavier than it should have. I opened my mouth to snap back, then stopped when I noticed the way the men around us had gone quiet. Not silent, just attentive, like they were watching a live wire stretch too tight, waiting to see if it would snap. I hated it... hated feeling like I was standing in the middle of something I didn’t have all the information for, and hated that he seemed to enjoy it, like my confusion was a private joke only he understood.

Worse still, some small, inconvenient part of me was starting to enjoy it too, and that scared me more than anything happening around us.

"Are you coming down or not?" I demanded again, refusing to lower my voice, refusing to play whatever unspoken game this was. "I’m not playing these head games with you tonight, Jaxx."

He tilted his head once more, studying me like I was a problem he liked too much to solve.

"Maybe I just like you asking," he said, taking a slow step toward the head of the staircase but stopping right at the top landing. "Or maybe I like watching you pretend you’re not affected."

I let out a sharp laugh. "Trust me, you’re not that special."

That earned me a few sharp intakes of breath from nearby, and one suit near the bar actually set his tumbler down a little too hard on the marble top. Oh. So that’s how it was. I glanced around again, really looking this time, at the tension and the stillness and the way one man subtly shifted as if preparing for something, anything, like disrespect toward Jaxx wasn’t just unwise, it was dangerous, like he expected the night to turn on its axis at any second.

The realization settled in my chest, uncomfortable and unsettling. What did these men know that I didn’t? Why did they fear him? And why, out of all of them, was I the only one speaking to him like this? A small, treacherous thrill ran beneath the unease, and I hated myself a little for noticing it, for feeling anything close to pride at being the exception.

Jaxx’s eyes flicked briefly to the room, taking in the reactions, then back to me, and something dark and pleased passed through his gaze. He liked this. He liked that I didn’t know. He liked that I didn’t care, and maybe, I thought uneasily, he liked that I didn’t back down even when everyone around us clearly expected me to.

"Still waiting, princess," he said softly, resting one hand back on the railing, entirely unbothered by the heavy silence hanging over the floor. "Are you coming back up here, or are you going to keep shouting across the lounge?"

"I am not coming up there," I said flatly. "And I am done asking."

"You’re terrible at lying to yourself, Elena," he replied, his tone dripping with quiet confidence. "You won’t leave. Your phone is at eleven percent, your friend abandoned you, and your feet hurt. Those heels are stunning and they’re committing crimes against you as we speak. You’ll take exactly four dramatic steps and then you’ll start calculating."

I clenched my jaw, furious mostly because he was right, down to the percentage, and I hated that he’d clocked all of it without so much as glancing at my phone. "You are actually a menace. You know that? A certified, diagnosed menace."

"And yet you’re still talking to me," he said pleasantly. "That’s the most attention I’ve had all week."

"That’s because everyone in this building is terrified of you! What is that, by the way? What do you do that makes grown men in Italian suits set their drinks down wrong?"

"Insurance," he said, without a hint of a smile.

"Insurance," I repeated flatly.

"Liabilities, mostly."

"Jaxx."

"Princess."

I made an inhuman sound and decided I was not going to stand there and let him turn this into a spectacle. Whatever power game he was playing, I wasn’t interested in being a piece on his board, so I turned. I didn’t stomp and I didn’t run. I walked away with my spine straight and my head high, heels clicking sharply against the floor, pride the only thing keeping my pace even, even as every nerve in my body wanted to look back just to see his face.

"Suit yourself, asshole," I muttered under my breath.

And behind me, I didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. That knowledge alone was enough to make my blood pressure spike, and I hated that some small part of me could picture the exact curve of that smirk without needing to turn around.

I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the bar and stepped outside, the morning air slamming into me like a rude wake-up call. The bass from inside dulled into a distant throb, replaced by the hum of the city... cars passing, muffled laughter from nearby patios, the faint smell of rain and smoke and something fried.

For a moment I just stood there, letting the cold air sharpen my thoughts, grateful for the distance between myself and the mess I’d just walked away from, grateful too that no one out here could see the way my hands were still trembling slightly with leftover adrenaline.

I didn’t slow down until I reached the curb, and then I stopped and looked left, then right, my brows furrowing. I patted my sides, checked my pocket, dug my fingers into the tiny side pocket like maybe, just maybe, my car keys would magically appear out of thin air. Nothing.

That’s when it hit me.

"Oh... shit." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I dragged a hand down my face, palm pressing hard against my eyes.

I hadn’t driven. I’d come with Lexy, in an Uber, because someone had insisted on drinking something bright and reckless and then staying longer than planned. Lexy had left an hour ago with some guy from marketing, promising she’d text, which she obviously hadn’t. Typical Lexy, swept away by the first charming smile that crossed her path, leaving me to fend for myself, a pattern so familiar by now I should have seen it coming before we’d even walked through the door.

I groaned, tilting my head back toward the sky. "Perfect, Elena. Customer service of the year, left out here in five-inch heels."

I stood there for a moment, heels planted and arms crossed, irritation buzzing through me like static. Pride screamed at me to keep walking, to call another ride, to disappear, to make a dramatic exit he didn’t get to witness, and I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and pulled up the ride app. No drivers available nearby, just a little loading wheel spinning relentlessly on the screen. Great, just fantastic.

But reality, that annoying little voice, cleared its throat and reminded me that maybe I was going to have to swallow my pride, just a tiny bit, and admit that storming off dramatically only worked if you had somewhere to storm off to.

I exhaled slowly. "I’ll wait," I told myself out loud, staring at the empty street. "Five minutes. I’ll wait five minutes, and if a car doesn’t pick up, I’m walking."

What was with him and annoying me anyway? Seriously, he had this infuriating talent for getting under my skin without even trying, or maybe that was the problem... maybe he wasn’t trying, and that made it worse. The thought needled at me, refusing to let go even as I tried to focus on the very real problem of being stranded, cold, and increasingly aware of just how ridiculous I must have looked arguing with the pavement.

I paced a few steps to the right, the pavement cold even through the soles of my shoes, then stopped and folded my arms again, then unfolded them.

I was still muttering under my breath, mentally composing a very detailed speech about boundaries and audacity and basic human decency, when I felt it, that sensation, the subtle shift in the air, the awareness of someone stepping into my space.

I didn’t even turn right away, fully convinced he had finally come down the stairs to gloat. I sighed, already annoyed, already rehearsing exactly how unimpressed I was going to sound.

"If you think you’re funny, you’re not," I said, ready to unleash everything I’d been holding in. "You don’t get to just stand up there acting like a king and expect me to crawl back up..."

I turned, and stopped short.

It wasn’t Jaxx.

The man standing in front of me was a stranger, tall and well-dressed in that overly polished way that screamed trying too hard, wearing a blazer that looked a little too tight across his shoulders. His eyes didn’t bother hiding where they were going, dragging slowly and openly and shamelessly down my body and back up again, lingering in places that made my skin prickle with something far less pleasant than irritation.

I stiffened, and he licked his lips, actually licked them, and I stared at him, my expression flattening into pure disgust. Up until this moment, I hadn’t realized something very important, which was that Jaxx was the only man who could look at me like that without making my skin crawl.

With him, it didn’t feel slimy or invasive. It felt charged and heated, dangerous in a way that made my pulse jump instead of my hackles rise. This, on the other hand, was just gross, and I fought the urge to step back and instead lifted my chin, refusing to give this man the satisfaction of watching me retreat.

Stop it, Elena, I told myself sharply. Stop praising that absolute menace of a man.

The stranger smiled like he thought he was charming, like this was working, and took half a step closer, resting one hand casually in his pocket while the other adjusted his watch, the gesture clearly meant to draw my attention to its price tag.

"You look like you’re having a rough night out here all by yourself," he said, his voice thick with a fake, slick warmth. "A girl like you shouldn’t be waiting on the curb."

I didn’t move, and I didn’t smile back. "Who are you," I asked coolly, "and what do you want?"

He chuckled like I’d just said something adorable, leaning in slightly as if we were sharing a secret. "Wow," he said, dragging the word out as his gaze lingered far too long on my collarbone before drifting back to my face. "You’re so... beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?"

I blinked once, then twice. Really? That line? I stared at him, unimpressed, boredom already settling in, and in my head I could practically hear Jaxx’s voice mocking the moment... Is that the best you’ve got? ...and that alone irritated me further, because why was I hearing his voice in my head now, of all times, judging another man’s flirting like a panel of one, like he’d somehow installed himself as a permanent commentator on my life without my consent.

I tilted my head slightly, eyes steady, voice calm.

"I don’t need anyone to tell me how beautiful I am before I know," I said evenly. "I know I am."