Terms of Surrender
479 Words
Chapter 13: Terms of Surrender
Elena hadn’t meant to stay.
She told herself she’d gather her things, call a car, return to the cold safety of distance. But somehow, she was still there—three days later—wrapped in silk robes and drinking Jaxon’s coffee, trying not to memorize the sound of his bare feet on marble floors.
She told herself she was being smart. That staying gave her control.
But the truth was, she was falling.
Fast.
Hard.
Dangerously.
Jaxon didn’t touch her again after that night. Not with his body. But his words, his looks, the way he hovered near her like gravity itself—it was worse. It made her ache in a different way.
And yet, he waited.
Until one morning, she found him standing on the balcony, his phone in one hand, tension carved into every inch of his shoulders.
“Problem?” she asked.
His gaze flicked to her. “Board meeting in three days. They want to discuss our… arrangement.”
She crossed her arms. “Meaning the marriage?”
He nodded. “They think you’re a distraction.”
“I thought I was the trophy wife. Pretty and silent.”
Jaxon stepped forward. “You’re not silent. And you were never meant to be a trophy.”
She stared at him. “Then what was I meant to be?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He stepped closer, close enough to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You were meant to be mine.”
The words landed heavy, like a secret he’d been holding back.
Elena’s chest rose. “Then let’s be honest, Jaxon. You want more. But I want rules.”
“Rules?” he repeated.
“Yes.” Her voice was steady now. “If I’m going to fall for you—and I think I already am—I want something real. No power plays. No contracts. You don’t get to dominate me in the boardroom and the bedroom unless I give you that permission.”
His jaw ticked.
“You’re drawing new lines,” he said slowly.
“I am.”
“And if I want to cross them?”
“You ask.”
A long silence passed between them. Then, his hand wrapped gently around her wrist and pulled her flush against him. But this time, he didn’t grab or demand.
He waited.
Her breath came shallow. Her lips parted.
“Ask,” she whispered.
“Can I kiss you?”
Her heart stuttered. “Yes.”
His mouth took hers slowly this time—no fire, no fury. Just a quiet kind of hunger that made her knees weak. His fingers threaded through her hair, and she sighed into him, melting against his chest.
It was different now.
He wasn’t claiming her.
He was choosing her.
And she was choosing him
- Writer
