Chapter 250 - 0250: My Woman

Chapter 250: Chapter 0250: My Woman

Elena’s Point Of View

Two days.

That was how long I had been a voluntary prisoner inside Jaxx’s sprawling, impeccably minimalist suite on the top floor of the city.

Forty-eight hours.

If someone had told me at the beginning of the week that I would abandon my high-rise apartment, put my entire professional schedule on hold, and hole up with a man who radiated pure, untamed danger, I would have laughed right in their face. I would have told them they were completely out of their mind. I was a woman of routine, of logic, of strict timetables and black-inked planners.

My life ran on precision... color-coded calendars, triple-checked contracts, meetings scheduled down to the minute. There was no room in that life for impulsive decisions, let alone for a man like him.

Yet here I was.

Still here.

Still breathing the exact same eucalyptus-scented air as him. Still wandering around his oversized master suite in a plush white bathrobe like I hadn’t accidentally stumbled through a portal into an entirely alternate universe where my normal life no longer applied. Some small, traitorous part of me had stopped fighting the strangeness of it all and started, quietly, to enjoy it.

My poor assistant back at the office was probably losing her absolute mind. Calls, emergency emails, virtual meetings, crisis management... she was handling all of it while I played domestic houseguest in a bachelor pad fit for a modern-day king. For the first twenty minutes of day one, I had made a valiant, highly professional attempt to grab my phone off the sleek mahogany entry table and reclaim my life. I had even rehearsed the apology I would give my team, the crisp, efficient tone I would use to smooth over my unexplained absence.

Jaxx had simply plucked the device right out of my hand with casual ease, tossed it onto the plush cushions of the sectional far out of my reach, and looked down at me with those dark, infuriatingly calm eyes.

"You’re staying," he had murmured, as though the matter required no further discussion.

And somehow... I did.

Even now, standing right in front of the illuminated vanity mirror with the warm hum of the hair dryer vibrating in my hand, I couldn’t quite trace the exact sequence of events that had led to this surrender. It bothered me. The hyper-rational, stubborn part of my brain kept whispering that none of this made any sense, that I was behaving completely out of character. I had built my entire identity on being the woman who always had an exit plan, and yet here I stood, with no plan at all, and strangely, no urge to make one.

Two days. Two entire days sharing a space with a man whose mere presence felt like a low-voltage electrical current sliding under my skin.

I pressed the cool, smooth edge of the marble counter lightly with my palm while the dryer blew a steady stream of warm air through my damp hair. I ran my fingers through the dark strands, trying to separate them, trying to find some semblance of calm. The repetitive motion helped, if only a little... something to anchor my hands while my thoughts spun in uncooperative circles.

The gilded mirror reflected the sprawling room behind me. The king-sized bed with its dark charcoal linens. The recessed amber lighting casting long, soft shadows across the walls. The quiet, intimate stillness that had somehow stopped feeling foreign and had started feeling dangerously like home. I hated how easily that word... home, had slipped into my thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome.

My reflection stared back at me. I looked entirely too serene.

That was a complete lie. Inside my head, it was a five-alarm fire. Because if I allowed myself to dwell on the countless little moments we’d shared over the last forty-eight hours... the way he shared his meals without asking, the way he watched me read on the sofa with that intense, focused stare, the effortless way his hands felt whenever they accidentally brushed against mine, I would spontaneously combust from sheer, unadulterated embarrassment. Every glance, every accidental touch, had been cataloged somewhere in the back of my mind, filed away like evidence I refused to examine too closely.

I refused to do that to myself. Absolutely not.

So, I focused intensely on drying my hair. It was safe. It was neutral. It required zero emotional processing. The motor whined softly against the quiet of the suite, a small mechanical comfort in the middle of my internal chaos.

I tilted my head to the side, letting a curtain of heavy wet hair fall over my shoulder while my nails combed through the roots.

Behind me, the room remained dead silent.

Too quiet.

Which meant, of course, that he was watching me. I didn’t even need to turn around or meet his gaze in the glass to know it. Jaxx had spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours doing precisely that... watching, studying, tracking my movements like I was some fascinating, unpredictable variable he was trying to calculate. The man possessed an utterly unsettling ability to stand completely still in a room, say absolutely nothing, and still make you feel entirely exposed. It should have unnerved me more than it did. Instead, it left a strange warmth pooling low in my stomach, one I refused to name.

I blew out a slow, deliberate breath, keeping my eyes fixed on my own reflection.

Ignore him, I told myself firmly. Act like a normal person. Completely normal.

How had I even gotten here? Did he possess some secret hypnotic power? Did he slip subliminal psychological suggestions into my coffee while I was distracted? Because that was honestly starting to feel like the only plausible scientific explanation. I narrowed my eyes slightly at my own image in the mirror, half-expecting to find some mystical glowing rune stamped on my forehead.

Did this man use actual magic?

Because the terrifying reality was that I wasn’t even trying to find the door anymore. The motor of the hair dryer sputtered and slowed as my hand drifted to a halt. I frowned down at the appliance. That particular realization was deeply, profoundly suspicious.

Very, very suspicious.

"Okay," I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible over the faint whir of the device. "Something is definitely broken in your brain, Elena."

I clicked the switch back on, letting the warm air rush over my neck again.

Behind me, the mattress shifted with a soft, muffled creak.

Then came the low, deliberate sound of slow footsteps padding across the hardwood.

I didn’t react. I kept my chin tilted, stubbornly pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. If he wanted my attention, he could use his words like an adult instead of looming behind me like some dangerously attractive, hyper-observant phantom.

The vanity mirror betrayed him instantly.

I watched his reflection close the distance, filling up the empty space behind my chair. He didn’t say a word at first. He just stepped right up, his large frame casting a long shadow over my stool, and leaned down until his lips hovered mere inches from the sensitive shell of my ear. My breath caught somewhere in my chest, refusing to move either in or out.

"Hey, Bambina," he murmured.

The hair dryer stuttered in my grip, the motor whining down a fraction.

"You seriously have no idea what you do to me just standing there looking like that, do you?"

I blinked, breaking out of my trance, and tilted my head just enough to catch his dark gaze in the glass.

"What are you even talking about?" I challenged, lifting the dryer slightly as if trying to shield myself with plastic and warm air. "I’m just drying my hair, Jaxx."

He let out a slow, heavy sigh - the kind of dramatic, long-suffering breath that made it clear my answer had personally offended his entire existence.

"Exactly."

Before I could process the response, his hands came down, resting flat on the cool marble vanity on either side of my hips. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t have to; his body formed an impenetrable cage, trapping me between the edge of the counter and the solid wall of his chest. I could feel the intense, steady heat radiating off him right through the thick fabric of my robe.

My skin prickled with awareness, every nerve ending suddenly, infuriatingly alert.

"You don’t have the slightest clue," he continued, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that always managed to short-circuit my common sense.

I looked at him through the mirror, narrowing my eyes. "That sounds like a strictly personal problem."

One corner of his mouth twitched upward into that maddening, arrogant smirk.

"It isn’t fair, princess."

"For you to look this good while I’m trying to carry out basic grooming tasks?" I shot back, lifting my chin. "I agree, it’s deeply inconvenient."

The smirk deepened, his dark eyes darkening with a sudden, playful spark. "Flattery will not distract me from the fact that you effectively kidnapped my schedule."

"I didn’t kidnap anything."

"You absolutely did! My assistant is probably drafting a missing person report as we speak."

"You stayed," he pointed out smoothly.

"Because you held my phone hostage!"

"You didn’t resist."

"That’s only because your entire setup is frankly suspicious."

His dark eyebrow arched high into his forehead. "Suspicious?"

"Yes, suspicious," I repeated, waving the hair dryer slightly in his general direction to emphasize my point. "Normal, sane men do not casually convince successful, independent women to vanish into a luxury penthouse suite for two full days."

A low, rich rumble of laughter vibrated in his chest, hitting the back of my shoulders. "You’re still here, Elena."

"That is the exact part that concerns me the most!"

He chuckled softly, his gaze dropping briefly to the curve of my collarbone before locking back onto my eyes in the glass. "That kind of hurts my ego, you know."

"You’ll survive."

"Barely."

I turned my body slightly on the stool, breaking his arm-cage to look at him more directly now, though I was still boxed in against the counter. "If I wake up tomorrow and discover you’ve been casting subtle psychological spells on me, we are going to have a profoundly serious conversation."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"And what kind of conversation would that be?"

"The kind where I immediately sue you for emotional manipulation and intellectual property theft of my own free will."

His laugh filled the suite... warm, entirely unbothered, and entirely too charming for his own good. The hair dryer slipped downward, hanging uselessly in my hand as the silence rushed back in to cushion the space between us. For a moment, neither of us spoke, and the quiet felt heavier than any argument we could have had.

Then, without warning, his hand moved from the marble, sliding gently around my waist. His fingers were warm, steady, and impossibly firm against my ribs.

My pulse skipped a frantic beat, throwing off my entire rhythm.

And then he dropped the bomb.

"My grandfather’s birthday gala is next week."

The casual, conversational tone of the sentence completely whiplashed my brain out of its flirty defense mode. I blinked, staring at him.

"What?"

His expression remained entirely unbothered. "My grandfather’s birthday is next week."

"I heard you the first time," I said, my voice pitching up an octave. "Good. But why are you announcing this like you’re reading me the weather forecast?"

His gaze didn’t waver for a fraction of a second. "Because I want you to go with me."

I stared at him. Then I blinked once. Then twice. My mind scrambled to catch up, replaying his words as if they might rearrange themselves into something less alarming.

"What?"

"You heard me, Bambina."

"You’re joking, right? Please tell me this is some elaborate, incredibly dry joke."

Before I could even think about sliding off the vanity stool to put some safe distance between us, Jaxx’s grip on my waist tightened. With effortless, terrifying strength, he lifted me straight off the chair. The sudden movement caught me completely off guard, my breath hitching in my throat as my back hit the cool glass of the mirror.

His body instantly closed the gap, pressing flush against mine. He boxed me in with both arms, his broad chest rising and falling against my own.

"Why would I joke about something like that, princess?" His voice was terrifyingly calm. Too calm. "I want you to come with me to meet my old man."

My brain completely short-circuited. Sparks practically flew out of my ears.

"Wait... hold on... absolutely not."

His dark eyebrow lifted in mock surprise. "No?"

"No!"

"You’re reacting way too fast without considering the perks."

"This conversation is happening at Mach speed!" I protested, planting both of my palms firmly against his solid chest to push back, though my arms might as well have been made of paper for all the good it did. "You asked why you were telling me, I didn’t sign up for an expedition into high-society family politics!"

His hands remained locked at my waist, steady, unmoving, anchoring me right where he wanted me.

"Jaxx," I said slowly, enunciating every single syllable as if speaking to a stubborn child. "Think about the actual words that just came out of your mouth."

"I did."

"You want me to meet your grandfather."

"Yes."

"Your actual grandfather."

"Unless there’s another one hiding in the family tree, yes."

"Your patriarch grandfather. The head of your entire intimidating, ultra-wealthy family."

"That’s the one."

I stared up at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you out of your absolute mind?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

He offered a casual, infuriating shrug of his broad shoulders. "That’s entirely up for debate."

I shoved against his chest a little harder, panic fluttering in my stomach. "Okay, stop. Pause the entire conversation right here."

"Why?"

"Because you’re talking about introducing me to your family like we’re stopping by a coffee shop!"

"It’s a party. They serve very good champagne."

"That is entirely missing the point!" I hissed, pointing a finger right at his nose. "You do not just casually drag random women to high-profile family galas!"

"You’re not random."

My brain stalled again, hitting a brick wall of pure shock. "That... is completely irrelevant!"

"It’s entirely relevant."

"No, it isn’t!"

"Elena."

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" he asked innocently, leaning down another fraction of an inch until his breath brushed against my lips.

"Answering every single logical objection I make like it’s a minor inconvenience you’ve already solved!"

"Because I have solved it."

"No, you haven’t!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You cannot just walk into a major family event and present me to your relatives! Who on earth would you even tell them I am?"

His answer came back instantly, fired off without a single millisecond of hesitation.

"My woman."

My eyes dilated to the size of saucers.

"Your what?"

"My woman."

My cognitive functions completely shut down. The operating system of my brain crashed.

"Excuse me?"

"My woman," he repeated, his voice dropping another octave, rolling over me like warm dark velvet.

I stared at him, my jaw practically unhinging. "You cannot just say things like that! That is not how normal human logic works!"

"Looks like it worked just fine."

"No, it didn’t!"

"Yes, it did. You’re currently blushing."

"I am not blushing! I am experiencing heatstroke from standing too close to your enormous ego!"

He chuckled, a rich, vibrating sound that wrapped around me like a physical touch. "Jaxx," I groaned, dropping my head back against the glass behind me with a soft thud. "Elena."

"You cannot just casually parade me around a ballroom and introduce me as your woman."

He leaned in closer, his dark gaze burning straight through my defenses. "Why not?"

"Because!" I stammered, scrambling for a rational argument while my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Because I never agreed to that title!"

His gaze sharpened, a dangerous, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes. "You didn’t refuse it either."

"That is not a valid legal argument!"

"It’s the only one that matters where I come from, princess."

I rubbed my temples with my fingertips, letting out a long, defeated groan. "This man is genuinely impossible."

He looked entirely, disgracefully pleased with himself. "You’re overthinking it."

"No, I am thinking the exact, appropriate amount for someone being railroaded into a high-society ambush!"

"You’re panicking."

"I am not panicking!" I snapped, glaring up at him with every ounce of fierce energy I had left. "I am strategically evaluating a disaster!"

"That sounds suspiciously like panicking."

I opened my mouth to launch into another furious defense, but the words completely died on my tongue as he closed the remaining inch of space between us. His thumb reached out, tracing a slow, feather-light line along my jawline, tilting my face upward. The touch silenced every argument I had been building, scattering my thoughts like leaves caught in a sudden wind.

"You asked what I’d call you," he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, husky register that made every thought in my head scatter like dust.

My pulse thudded wildly in my ears.

"You heard my answer."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly feeling dry as parchment.

"Your... your woman?"

His gaze locked onto my lips, heavy with intent.

"My woman," he murmured, and then he kissed me, and every protest I had left dissolved into the warmth of his mouth against mine.