Chapter 89 - 0089: Smile At Him Like A Good Girl

Chapter 89: Chapter 0089: Smile At Him Like A Good Girl

Elena’s Point Of View

"This... can’t be happening."

My voice was barely a whisper, a ragged breath scraped out of my lungs that didn’t even make it past my own teeth. I swallowed hard, forcing my chin down just an inch, desperate to keep my lips from moving in a way that would catch Graham’s eyes.

My right hand was trembling so violently against the stem of my crystal champagne glass that the gold liquid inside rippled, threatening to spill over the rim.

I set the glass down with a tiny clink against the white tablecloth, my fingers curling tightly under the table until my manicured nails dug sharp crescents into my skin. Pain grounded me. Pain kept me anchored to the floor of the St. Regis ballroom.

I turned my head slightly away from Graham, angling my jaw toward the floor, and whispered low into the hidden AirPod buried beneath my dark hair.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jaxx?"

A low, heavy chuckle rumbled straight through the speaker, so rich, dark, and thick it felt like warm velvet dragging directly across the sensitive skin of my neck. I could hear the faint, dangerous smirk in his breath.

"What else would I be doing here, Bambina?" Jaxx drawled, his voice dropping into a dark, sinful purr that sent a sudden, traitorous shiver straight down my spine. "I came to watch you shine. I came to celebrate my girl."

Celebrate me. The words tasted like pure mockery, coated in dark poison. My stomach knotted itself into a hard, aching twist.

"I’m not your girl and how did you even get in here?" I hissed under my breath, my jaw clenched so hard the muscles in my neck strained. I forced my eyes to stay glued to the center of the table, pretending to adjust my silk napkin so the press cameras surrounding the dance floor wouldn’t catch me talking to thin air.

Another quiet laugh vibrated through the earpiece... smug, deliberate, curling around every single syllable.

"Does it really matter how I got in, sweetheart?" he murmured, his tone lazy, dangerous, and dripping with absolute ownership. "You know doors don’t stay locked when I want what’s behind them. And right now... all I want is sitting at the head table in a green dress that’s driving me out of my fucking mind."

My heart hammered a frantic, desperate rhythm against my ribs. Heat bloomed beneath the tight green satin of my gown, crawling up my chest like a slow, burning fire.

"Yes, it damn well matters," I snapped back in a harsh, breathy whisper, my knuckles turning white beneath the table. "You are going to ruin everything. Get out of here, Jaxx. Right now."

Across from me, Graham shifted in his seat. He hadn’t noticed my whispering... he was too busy staring down at his phone screen, his jaw set in a hard, rigid line as he furiously typed a message. Probably to Lilian. Probably to his lawyers.

He sat there like a looming dark cloud over my victory night, completely oblivious to the fact that his wife was standing on the absolute precipice of hell.

I couldn’t take it. The suffocating weight of Graham sitting three feet away, the hundreds of high-society eyes scanning the room, and Jaxx’s sinful voice slithering straight into my ear... it was too much. I was unravelling, strand by strand.

My right hand left my lap, rising slowly toward my ear. My fingers brushed the cool plastic of the AirPod, desperate for the absolute bliss of silence, desperate to sever this invisible, dangerous leash before it dragged me into complete ruin.

Just press it. Disconnect the call. End this madness.

"Don’t you dare take that out, Bambina."

The command hit my ear like a whip. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t teasing. It was dark, lethal, and laced with absolute authority.

My fingers froze mid-air, suspended just millimeters from my earlobe.

"Because if you cut that call," Jaxx continued, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a low, predatory growl that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand straight up, "I’ll walk right out into the middle of this fucking floor. I’ll walk right up to your table, pick you up out of that chair, and carry you over my shoulder right past your husband and every single board member in this room."

My breath caught so sharply it choked in my throat.

"And then," Jaxx purred, his breath raspy against the microphone, "I’ll throw you in the back of my car, drive us to my suite, and strip that green silk off your body with my teeth. I’ll fuck you so raw, so deep, and so hard that the only name your pretty little mouth will be able to scream for the rest of the night... is mine."

A violent spike of raw, liquid heat shot straight between my thighs. My core throbbed, wet and hot, a sudden, shameful ache bursting to life beneath my dress.

God.

He wasn’t bluffing. Jaxx never bluffed. If I pulled this AirPod out, he would do every single thing he just described, and he wouldn’t care if the entire Dallas elite watched him do it.

My hand dropped slowly back into my lap, trembling as it hit the table. I clenched my fists tight, driving my nails into my skin until I bled into my palms, trying to force my brain to conquer the dangerous, humiliating sensations flooding my body.

I forced my face into a calm, icy mask of corporate perfection, tilting my chin up and offering a rigid, hollow smile to a passing investment banker who nodded at me.

Inside, I was burning to ash.

I swallowed, my throat dry as sand, and allowed my eyes to drift upward... just a fraction, just a deadly, traitorous glance toward the dark partition near the stage.

He was still standing there.

Broad-shouldered, dangerous, draped in a bespoke dark suit that screamed raw power and dirty money. His dark, hooded eyes were locked onto me with absolute, unyielding patience, devouring every inch of my exposed shoulders, the deep dive of my neckline, the way my chest heaved with shallow breaths.

He didn’t care if anyone saw him watching me. He wanted the world to know he was hunting.

And that smirk. That arrogant, wicked, insufferable smirk carved across his handsome lips.

I hated him. I hated him with every single cell in my body. I hated how easily he shattered my control. I hated how he treated my life like his personal playground.

I wanted to march across the glossy parquet floor, slap that smug look right off his face, and scream every spiteful word I had buried deep in my chest for years.

So why was my heart beating this fast?

Why was my pulse thumping heavy and slow deep down in my pelvis instead of my chest? Why was my skin prickling under his gaze as if his calloused hands were already sliding up my bare thighs?

"Elena?"

Graham’s sharp voice cut through the fog in my head like a rusted knife. He snapped his phone shut, laying it flat on the table as his dark eyes flicked up to my face.

My heart did a violent, terrifying leap into my throat. Did he see? Did he hear?

I forced my lips to stretch into a smooth, effortless smile, steadying my pitch. "Yes, Graham?"

"Your champagne glass has been empty for ten minutes," he said, his tone flat, disinterested, already raising two fingers to signal a passing waiter without even looking at me directly. "You’re the host of this event. Try to look like you’re actually enjoying your own victory."

He didn’t notice my trembling hands. He didn’t notice the frantic rise and fall of my chest, or the light sheen of sweat at the nape of my neck. He didn’t notice the way I was pressing my knees tightly together beneath the table, desperately trying to squeeze away the shameful ache throbbing between my legs.

He never noticed anything about me. Not anymore.

My chest tightened with a sudden, sharp pang of bitter reality. My own husband looked straight at me and saw nothing but a piece of corporate furniture.

But Jaxx...

Jaxx saw every single molecule.

And right on cue, Jaxx’s voice slithered back into my ear, thick with sinful promise, warm and heavy like melted honey.

"Look at him, Bambina," Jaxx whispered smoothly, his tone low and mocking. "Sitting right across from you, totally oblivious. He doesn’t have a damn clue what’s happening to you right now, does he?"

I bit the inside of my cheek hard, staying dead quiet, refusing to give him a single syllable of encouragement.

"You want to play this game tonight, sweetheart?" Jaxx purred, the sound of his tongue sliding over his teeth sending a shiver through my stomach. "Then you’re going to wear my command. If he looks at your face, he’s going to see my mark written all over you. He just won’t know it’s because you’re sitting there, soaking your lace panties just from hearing my voice."

Oh, God.

My knees squeezed tighter together. I felt a hot, wet slickness coat the silk of my underwear, a shameless, helpless response that made my face burn with pure blush.

"Stop it," I whispered, so quietly it was barely a vibration in my throat.

"Stop what, Bambina?" Jaxx taunted softly, his dark voice laced with dirty, infectious amusement. "Stop telling you the truth? Stop reminding you of how you looked when you were on your knees for me in your office two weeks ago? You remember how sweet you tasted, don’t you? How tight you felt around my fingers?"

I let out a tiny, breathless gasp, quickly converting it into a soft cough as Graham glanced back up from his lap.

"Are you alright?" Graham asked, his brow furrowing slightly, a flicker of mild annoyance on his face. "You look flushed, Elena."

"I’m fine," I said quickly, my voice raspy. "It’s just... warm in here."

"Then drink some water," Graham said dismissively, turning his attention back to his wine glass.

Warm in here. That was an understatement. I was burning alive.

Jaxx’s dark chuckle filled my ear again, low and ruthless. "He’s so fucking blind, Elena. But I’m not. I see the way your chest is heaving. I see the way your lips are parted."

There was a short pause on the line, the heavy sound of Jaxx taking a slow, deep breath.

"Slide your hand down, Bambina."

My eyes widened in pure horror. No. Absolutely not.

"Do it," Jaxx commanded, his voice dropping into that dark, velvety register that left zero room for argument. "Slide your right hand down under the table. Touch your thighs, slow, under the napkin. Right now."

My mind screamed at me to refuse. Everything I had built... my career, my pride, my dignity, my entire reputation, was sitting in this room. My board members were two seats down. My husband was three feet away. Press cameras were flashing every thirty seconds.

And yet, as I stared across the room and watched Jaxx slowly raise his own hand, his long, broad fingers lightly tracing the lapel of his black jacket while his dark eyes burned into mine, my body surrendered.

My spine went rigid as iron. I maintained my plastic, perfect executive smile, inclining my head politely toward our Vice President of Finance as he made a toast down the table.

Slowly... agonizingly... my right hand slid off the top of the table.

It crept beneath the heavy, crisp white linen napkin draped over my lap. My palm brushed against the smooth, expensive green satin of my gown. The fabric felt boiling hot to the touch.

"That’s it, good girl," Jaxx purred into my ear, his voice thick with sinful praise that made my core ache violently. "Slide your hand higher. Feel how warm you are for me."

My breath dragged through my lungs in ragged, shallow hitches. My trembling fingers pushed the satin upward just an inch, my hand sliding onto the bare, soft skin of my lower inner thigh. My skin was scorching hot, prickling with goosebumps at my own touch.

I was doing it. Right here. In the middle of my company’s victory gala. With my husband sitting directly across from me, sipping his wine.

"Farther, Elena," Jaxx commanded softly, his tone dangerous, heavy, and completely possessive. "Spread your knees just a little bit for me under that napkin. Let me see you stretch that dress."

I bit my lower lip so hard I nearly drew blood. Slowly, helplessly, my knees parted an inch beneath the white linen. My hand slid higher up my bare thigh, the tips of my fingers brushing against the damp, hot lace of my underwear.

A silent, desperate moan caught in the back of my throat, threatening to burst out into the crowded room.

Jaxx leaned back against the dark pillar across the room, his eyes hooded, his wicked smirk deepening as he watched the subtle, desperate shift in my posture.

"Smile at him like a good girl," Jaxx whispered softly, his voice a dark, erotic spell wrapping around my soul, "while your panties stick to your skin thinking about my mouth between your legs."