"Forgive me."
The words came out softer than I expected and before I could even process that—before I could respond or deflect or turn it into something sarcastic the way I always did—his hand found my waist.
Firm.
Certain.
Like he didn't hesitate for even a second.
He pulled me toward him, not gently, not roughly either just… decisively.
My breath caught. The distance between us disappeared so quickly it felt unreal, like the space itself had folded in on us. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, stiffening slightly, my fingers instinctively pressing against his chest as if to create space—but I didn't push him away.
I didn't.
And that was the problem.I could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of my dress, solid and grounding in a way that made everything else feel distant. His scent wrapped around me almost immediately—something expensive, clean, sharp—but underneath it, there was the faintest trace of mint from his breath.
It was… distracting, dangerously distracting. I lifted my eyes to his.
Big mistake.
Because he was already looking at me.
Not casually, not teasingly but like he had something to say and didn't quite trust words to do it. The world around us didn't stop—but it blurred.
Cameras flashed. Voices rose. People were definitely watching.
But none of it reached me the way it should have because in that moment, it felt like it was just him. Too close and steady, too aware and for a second—
breathing felt optional again.
My fingers curled slightly against his shirt, not pushing, not holding, just… there. His grip on my waist tightened just a fraction, like he noticed.
Like he felt it too and that was worse than anything else, this wasn't supposed to feel like anything.
This was supposed to be a contract.
An act.
A performance.
So why did it feel like something else entirely?
His gaze dropped—just for a second—then lifted back to mine, slower this time and more deliberate.
Then just as quickly as it started— he let go and stepped back.
Like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just pulled the air out of my lungs.
He moved around the car, opening the backseat door for me with that same composed expression, like he hadn't just crossed a line neither of us had acknowledged yet.
I stood there for half a second longer than necessary before getting in.
The door closed behind me and suddenly
everything felt too quiet.
The ride was quieter, but not comfortable not even close. The kind of silence that wasn't empty it was full of everything we weren't saying. I kept my gaze on the window, watching the city lights blur past, focusing on anything that wasn't him. But I could feel it his attention,
he kept glancing at me like I was something he couldn't quite understand, like I didn't fit into whatever version of the world he was used to like I didn't make sense.
Good.
I didn't want to.
"You clean up well," he said eventually.
I didn't turn. "People keep saying that like it's a surprise."
"It actually is," he replied, a faint smile in his voice. "Seeing you dress formally."
That made me look at him briefly.
Because the moment our eyes met again,
something changed again.
That same tension and same pull.
Quiet.
But insistent.
I looked away almost immediately, faster than I meant to, my gaze snapping back to the window like I had touched something I wasn't supposed to.
The reflection stared back at me faintly and for once I wasn't as composed as I pretended to be.
"…Don't get used to it," I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt.
Then, softer—
"Too late."
Before I could react, he continued.
"Not entirely, we still have to hang out three more times and after that till whenever your presence Is needed". He replied casually, scrolling on his phone without looking at me.
I had to adjust fully facing him to understand his terms.
"What do you mean three more times?".
"Didn't you read the contract? We have to go out alot for the public to see I appreciated you enough, I don't want them saying I'm ungrateful". He replied smirking, still so focused on his phone.
"One Is already torture, now we still have three more times to go? I'll pass".
He paused and finally faced me, studied my expression for a while.
"Why do you hate me?" He asked.
That question caught me off guard I wasn't expecting It at all.
"I don't hate you, If I did I won't save you".
He stared at me In a way I couldn't explain, It wasn't the uncomfortable type of stare, as If he was trying so hard to figure me out.
"Mishell...".
There was always something about the way he called my name, I don't know what It is but It felt strange.
"Look I don't plan on making you uncomfortable okay, let's just make tonight work and If It does. We don't have to meet up again".
I rolled my eyes. " Finneee".
I was only doing this just to capture the ruin wraith anyway, not like I would actually go on a date with him.
Getting to the restaurant was worse, too many people, many cameras, many expectations sitting in the air like pressure. Everyone stared at us like we were some kind of priceless jewel they are hunting, I could feel the men's eyes on me It felt really weird and It seems Jax noticed too. Without wasting time, he held my hand to his arms and guided me In.
He led me Into a private area where It was just me and him, enough privacy away from the cameras, I felt relieved and better. We sat across from each other and for a brief moment, it almost felt like something normal. The private area was stylishly decorated, It gave off a romantic vibe. If only he knows I hate romance or anything that has to do with love.
The air in here was colder than I expected. Not enough for anyone else to notice—but enough to settle against my skin in a way I couldn't ignore.
I folded my arms around myself, controlled, effortless, like it was a choice and not a reaction.
Curse this dress.
Too light. Too open. Too… human.
Lydia had insisted on it, of course. Said it was "perfect." Said I needed to "commit to the look." Now I was sitting here, pretending I wasn't cold in something that clearly wasn't designed for comfort.
A bottle of wine was set on the table, smooth and polished like everything else about this place. I reached forward for my glass, more out of habit than interest—but before my fingers could touch it, Jax stood.
I paused and looked up slowly.
He walked toward me without a word, steady, unhurried, like he had already decided something and I was just catching up to it. Then he stopped right in front of me, just stood there looking down at me.
"What?" I asked, my brows pulling together slightly.
He tilted his head, studying me for a second longer than necessary, like he was trying to confirm something. That irritated me more.
"What?" I repeated, sharper this time. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He didn't answer Instead, he reached for his suit jacket. Slowly as he slipped it off his shoulders, adjusted it once in his hands, then stepped a little closer.
Closer than necessary.
Then he bent slightly, bringing himself down to my level, and without a word—placed it gently over my shoulders.
Warmth followed immediately. Subtle but noticeable.
He didn't stop there.
His hands lingered just long enough to adjust the way it sat on me, brushing lightly against my arms. Then he reached up, careful and precise, moving a strand of my hair away from my face and fixing one of my earrings that had shifted slightly like he had every right to and this wasn't the first time he had done something like that.
"You looked cold," He said simply.
And just like that— Everything in my head went quiet because the moment his fingers brushed against my skin, something in me stilled in a way I didn't expect.
My response—whatever it was supposed to be—disappeared completely.
I just… stared at him.
He was way to close...His face was right there, clear, detailed in a way I hadn't paid attention to before. The slight curve of his lips, the calm in his eyes, the way his dimples showed when he smiled— And for a second breathing felt… optional.
Which was ridiculous I mean completely ridiculous. So I did the only thing I could think of which was looking away.
"…I wasn't cold," I muttered, even though the warmth of his jacket was still settling around me. The lie came out too fast, too sharp and obvious
Then his hands moved—slow, deliberate—as he adjusted the jacket still resting on my shoulders, pulling it in slightly, making sure it sat properly. I hadn't even noticed when he'd decided I was keeping it.
Then he looked at me again, really looked this time. There was something different in his expression now I couldn't quiet explain.
Something quieter.
Something… knowing.
Then—he smiled, not the usual one or the easy, public one people were used to.
This one was smaller, sharper and more personal.
"You know," he said slowly, his voice dropping just enough to make the space between us feel smaller, "you look cute when you're lying."
I froze just for a second.
My grip tightened slightly on the edge of the table as I forced my expression back into something neutral.
"I'm not lying," I said.
He didn't move or step back.
If anything—he leaned in just slightly.
Not enough to be obvious but just enough to make it impossible to ignore.
"You are," He said quietly.
The air felt tensed now or maybe It was just me, I should have said something, anything. A sarcastic remark or a dismissal or something to push him back into his place. That's what I always did, that's what I was supposed to do.
But for some reason—The words didn't come because he was still there, still close and looking at me like he wasn't trying to win an argument.
Like he was just… watching me.
"You always do that," he added, softer now. "Act like nothing affects you."
My chest tightened slightly, annoyingly and unnecessary.
"You don't know me," I replied.
That should have ended It, It usually did but this time— he didn't pull away.
"No," He said. "I don't."
Then, quieter— he leaned close to mw and whispered Into my ear.
"…but I'm starting to."
That was worse, I looked up at him properly then and for a second—Everything else faded.
The noise, the people, the cameras waiting outside. None of it mattered.
Just this moment.
This distance that wasn't enough.
"You're very sure of yourself," I said, trying to recover some ground.
"I am."
"That's not always a good thing."
"Depends on what I'm sure about."
My breath hitched slightly I felt it.
His gaze dropped briefly—to my lips—then back to my eyes quick but not quick enough.
And just like that—The tension shifted, It wasn't loud or dramatic but just there.
Clear and undeniable.
I swallowed hard, then forced my expression back into something controlled.
"You're doing too much," I said.
He smiled again. That same quiet, dangerous smile.
"And you're not doing enough," He replied.
For a second—Neither of us moved.
Then he finally stepped back, far enough to let the moment breathe again. I quickly looked away trying to understand what just happened. For some reason something felt different and I wasn't sure If I liked It or not..