Page 106 of The Jaded Notes

“Jax, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I almost died. I’m prone to blood clots. The pill nearly killed me. My doctor said she’d never put me on hormones again.”

The room stills, the admission anchoring her to the spot. I see it, the memory of hospital lights and the threat of death etched into her skin too young.

My heart aches for her, but my voice stays steady. “Then we’ll find another way. But don’t think for a second I’ll let fear keep barriers between us.”

Her shocked and awed expression lingers on mine before she breaks away, pacing as though movement might keep her from unraveling.

I step closer, snatching up her wrist before she can spin out of control again. I wrap her in a tight embrace, and her resistance crumbles.

Her body melts against mine. Her sweet and tantalizing perfume drifts into my nose.

“Enough of this city.” I kiss her temple and find her gaze. “Tomorrow, you pack a bag.”

“For what?”

“I have a vineyard in the Loire Valley. It’s secluded and beautiful this time of year. I want you to see it and forget all the heavy burdens you seem to carry.”

Her eyes widen, a flicker of excitement blending in with her hesitation. She seems like she wants to defy me, but she doesn’t speak.

Her fingers curl into my shirt, and tell me everything I need to know. As I draw her closer, the promise of secludeddays and tangled sheets at night hangs heavy in the air between us. Soon, I’ll have her on her back, and I’ll be savoring her like the finest wine.

The Loire Valley in October carries its own kind of intoxication. The air is cool enough to bite, but softened by the burnished gold of the vines. We’re out on the terrace of the small upscale restaurant that’s on the property.

“Jax, it’s stunning here.” She steps out onto a section where the music is playing louder, tugging me along.

“I thought you’d like it.”

My vineyard isn’t just an escape. It’s a place that reminds me that power doesn’t always have to come dressed in iron and steel. Here, control feels like earth under my feet, not empires in my hands. I can relax some when I’m here.

She has her arms around my neck, and her hips start shifting from side to side. “Come on, Jax. Let your hair down and dance with me.”

Her laugh laces through the breeze, and I let mine slip free in return, startling even me. She releases me and sways before me.

Her eyelids close, and her hands rise above her head. The October sun catches in her hair like it’s conspiring with her to undo me.

“Jax, close your eyes, move your body, and feel the moment with me.”

I should. But I don’t. Because I don’t want to take my eyes off her. She’s in her element, in her body, in her soul, and it’s devastatingly gorgeous.

I’ve known it for a while now, but it’s in this moment that the truth slices through me clean. I’m in love with the woman before me.

And it guts me, because saying it aloud would destroy everything we’ve built and everything we’re risking just to stand here.

She spins barefoot on the concrete, her flowy skirt swooshing around her thighs. She giggles with a recklessness that makes the years I spent constructing walls of rigidity feel like wasted time.

I step back and reach for the glass of Cabernet I poured from my own cellar. The wine blooms dark and full in my mouth. It’s a reminder that some things are meant to be savored slowly, without armor.

I return to her orbit, catch her by her waist, and pull her close until she softens against my chest. The music fades into something less important than the heat of her body swaying with mine.

She tilts her head up, blue eyes flashing victory, lips curving like she knows she’s won something that no one else ever has. And she has.

Because here, with October light spilling over her shoulders and her warmth pressed against me, I’m not the unbreakable man they whisper about in corridors of power. I’m just me. And that terrifies me more than I’m willing to admit.

“See?” Her voice daring me. “You don’t have to control everything.”