Chapter 275 - 0275: I Have To Change

Chapter 275: Chapter 0275: I Have To Change

Elena’s Point Of View

I sat there, frozen on his lap for a heartbeat too long, my brain feeling like it had been scrambled and then fried in the heat of that kiss. The driver’s words were still echoing around the cabin, and I was trying to reconcile that information with the fact that my lipstick was smeared and my soul had practically left my body.

My pulse hammered in my ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos in my chest. I could still taste him, still feel the ghost of his hands against my skin, and the combination made rational thought nearly impossible. Every nerve in my body seemed to still be humming from his touch, as if my skin hadn’t gotten the memo that the kiss had ended.

"We are going to my grandfather’s birthday party, Elena," Jaxx said, his voice returning to that smooth, effortless baritone that made it sound like we hadn’t just been trying to consume each other moments ago. "What else would we be doing at an airport?"

The casual tone of his question made my head spin even more. I scrambled off his lap, smoothing the silk of my dress with hands that refused to stop shaking. My fingers trembled against the delicate fabric, betraying every ounce of composure I was trying to maintain. Heat crept up my neck as I realized how thoroughly disheveled I must look, how obvious it was what we’d been doing just moments before. I couldn’t decide what mortified me more: the state of my dress or the fact that some reckless part of me hadn’t wanted it to stop.

"But... I thought we would use a car!" The words tumbled out in a rush. "I mean, a normal person uses a car to go to a birthday party, Jaxx. Even a fancy one. Not a flight! Where exactly does your grandfather live? On the moon?"

He let out a short, dry laugh, the kind that told me he found my panic adorable, which only made me want to hit him again. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a flash of genuine amusement breaking through his usually controlled expression.

For a moment, he looked younger, less like the controlled, dangerous man I’d come to know and more like someone capable of real joy. It struck me, not for the first time, how rare that unguarded look seemed on him, like sunlight breaking briefly through storm clouds.

"I don’t want you going through the road stress, Bambina," he explained, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with unexpected tenderness. "Texas’s roads aren’t exactly kind to twenty-million-dollar dresses or the women wearing them. Now come on, let’s go. We’re on a schedule."

He stepped out of the car before I could argue about the logistics of private aviation or the casual way he’d just mentioned Texas like it was a short jaunt down the street. My mind reeled at the casual mention of a different state entirely, as if flying across the country for a birthday party were the most mundane thing in the world.

The humid air of the tarmac rushed in, carrying with it the scent of jet fuel and summer heat, and for a moment I simply sat there, trying to catch up with a life that moved faster than I could process.

A moment later, my door swung open. Jaxx stood there, the sun catching the sharp lines of his jaw, looking every bit the dominant force nature intended him to be. He held out his hand to me, palm up, waiting with the patience of someone who knew I would eventually take it. I hesitated, my heart doing something complicated in my chest, caught between the lingering thrill of his kiss and the dizzying uncertainty of everything else.

Then I placed my fingers in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. He gave my hand a light, reassuring squeeze, a silent apology for the chaos of the last few minutes, and helped me out of the car with a gentleness that contradicted his earlier intensity.

"Thank you," I muttered, ducking my head so he wouldn’t see the flush still staining my cheeks or the way my eyes kept darting to his lips. He just nodded, his expression unreadable as he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and led me away from the car. The gesture felt old-fashioned, protective in a way that made something warm unfurl in my stomach despite my confusion.

I found myself studying his profile as we walked, wondering how a man could be so infuriating and so devastatingly charming within the same breath, and how I kept forgetting to be angry with him for longer than a few minutes at a time.

We didn’t head toward the main terminal. Instead, we walked through a side path, past several smaller hangars, until we came out into a wide, shimmering open field. The afternoon sun beat down on us, and I was grateful for the shade his body provided as we walked. And then I saw it. I literally gasped, my feet skidding to a halt on the asphalt.

Parked on the tarmac was an aircraft that looked less like a plane and more like a piece of polished obsidian. It was a private jet, but not just any jet; it was massive, custom-made, with sleek lines and an aura of wealth that made my head spin. The tail had a discreet logo I didn’t recognize... some kind of stylized bird or phoenix, and the engines looked powerful enough to tear a hole in the sky. Sunlight glinted off its pristine surface, nearly blinding me.

My stomach did a slow, uneasy flip as the scale of his world started to sink in, piece by impossible piece. I’d known, in an abstract way, that Jaxx had money. Standing there, dwarfed by that machine, I understood for the first time that I hadn’t truly grasped what that meant.

"Jaxx..." I whispered, staring at the jet and then back at the man holding my arm, really looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Who exactly are you? Seriously. People don’t just have these."

The question hung between us, heavy with implications I wasn’t sure I was ready to explore. Something flickered behind his eyes, there and gone so quickly I almost missed it, a shadow of something that looked almost like caution, or perhaps regret.

"I’m the man taking you to a party," he said simply, pulling me toward the stairs with gentle insistence. "Don’t overthink it. It’ll give you a headache."

But how could I not overthink it? This wasn’t just wealth... this was power, influence, a world I’d only glimpsed in magazines and movies. Every detail, from the phoenix insignia to the way the ground crew seemed to move around him with practiced deference, told me this was a man accustomed to a reality I couldn’t begin to comprehend. I felt suddenly very small, a girl in a borrowed dress playing at a life that wasn’t hers.

He led me up the flight of stairs, his hand steady at the small of my back, and the interior was even worse for my blood pressure. It was all cream leather, dark wood, and gold accents that gleamed in the soft lighting. Crystal decanters sat secured in a polished bar, and the carpet beneath my feet was so plush I felt like I was walking on air.

I took my seat in a chair that felt like it was made of clouds, sinking into butter-soft leather that probably cost more than my entire apartment. I ran my palm over the armrest, half expecting to wake up and find the whole afternoon had been some fevered dream.

Jaxx sat directly opposite me, crossing one ankle over his knee with casual elegance. I stared at him, really stared at him, realizing that despite everything... the kisses, the arguments, the dress, I really didn’t know much about the man sitting in front of me. He was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and draped in expensive Italian tailoring.

The realization should have frightened me, but instead, it only deepened the strange pull I felt toward him. I wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to peel back the layers of charm and control to find whoever existed underneath, and whether that person would be someone I could trust, or someone I should fear.

A calm, feminine voice came through the speakers, announcing our immediate takeoff. I gripped the armrests instinctively, but the ascent was so smooth I barely felt it, just a gentle pressure and the faint hum of powerful engines. For thirty minutes, we sat in a silence that was thick with the ghost of our kiss. The memory of his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, seemed to fill the space between us like smoke, so tangible I almost believed I could reach out and touch it.

Jaxx watched me the whole time, his gaze never wavering, like he was waiting for me to shatter or fly away. His eyes held questions he didn’t ask, emotions he didn’t voice, and I found myself unable to look away despite the intensity of his stare. There was something almost vulnerable in the way he studied me, as though he, too, were trying to solve a puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me like that, and whether I would ever work up the courage to ask.

When the jet finally landed, it wasn’t at a busy airport. It was a private landing strip in the middle of lush, green fields. The door hissed open, and the humidity hit me again, smelling of grass and expensive fertilizer. Jaxx helped me out, carrying my purse as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man like him to do, the small act of chivalry at odds with everything else about him that spoke of danger.

"Are you tired, Bambina?" he asked, searching my face, concern threading through his usual composure.

I shook my head, though my legs felt a bit like jelly. "No, just... processing. A lot of processing."

"Good," he said. He didn’t even give me a chance to take a step. "Because you don’t have to walk the rest. Come here."

Before I could protest, he moved. In one fluid, effortless motion, he tucked my purse under one arm and scooped me up with the other, lifting me bridal-style.

"Jaxx! Put me down!" I yelped, my hands flying to his neck to keep from falling. "People can see! The pilots! The staff!"

He just winked at me, that infuriatingly handsome spark back in his eyes. "Let them look. They’re paid to be discreet, not blind."

He walked out of the jet and down the stairs with me in his arms as if I weighed nothing at all, his steps sure and unhurried despite my halfhearted struggling. He started walking toward a building in the distance, and as we got closer, my mouth actually dropped open. I’d thought the Sinclair Estate was the height of luxury, but this place? The Sinclair place was a joke compared to this.

It was a massive, sprawling palace of stone and glass, shimmering under the sun like a jewel. It wasn’t just a house; it was a fortress of old money and power, the kind of place that belonged in history books rather than real life. I found myself wondering how many generations it had taken to build something so immense, and what kind of family could call it home without blinking.

When we reached the massive front doors, Jaxx finally set me on my feet. He didn’t let go, though. He held my hand, his thumb rubbing circles over my knuckles, and then he paused, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

"Your lipstick," he noted, his voice low. "Lexi will kill both of us if you walk in looking like you’ve been thoroughly kissed."

He handed me my purse. I fumbled for my mirror and the lipstick Lexi had given me, my hands still a bit clumsy. I quickly reapplied the shade and the gloss, smoothing it out until I looked human again. I turned back to him, breathless.

"How do I look?"

"You look perfect," he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice. Just a heavy, honest weight that made my chest tighten in response.

I took a deep breath, trying to channel some of that armor Lexi had talked about, and we walked in. The foyer was breathtaking... high ceilings, marble floors, and art that belonged in a museum, but it was strangely quiet, the silence pressing against my skin like a held breath. I felt impossibly out of place, a smudge of color against the pristine, hushed grandeur surrounding us.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, my voice echoing. "I thought you said it was a party."

"The party is going on at the other side, in the gardens and the ballroom," Jaxx explained, guiding me toward a grand staircase.

"Then why are we here?" I asked, looking around the empty, opulent hall. "Shouldn’t we be... partying?"

He stopped and stared at me with a look that was so incredibly "really?" that I actually felt a bit slow. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting the urge to laugh at my obliviousness.

I chuckled nervously. "What? Why are you looking at me like I’ve got two heads?"

He gestured down at his own clothes... the shirt I’d wrinkled, the collar I’d tugged, and the faint, unmistakable smudge of my makeup near his neckline.

"I have to change what I’m wearing."