Page 107 of The Jaded Notes

I laugh again. That’s the second time in less than ten minutes, and it unnerves me.

“Careful, firecracker. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Her grin is wild, free, almost childlike, and for a moment I let myself believe she could carry that joy without it being extinguished by the weight she hides so carefully.

We dance until the song slows. Her cheek rests on my chest, and her scent wraps around me tighter than her arms ever could.

When we finally sit, the server brings a bottle of thereserve vintage I never pour for anyone but myself. Tonight, she gets the first glass before I even touch mine.

She takes a sip and swallows. Her lips part as though the wine is something sinful. “God, Jax. This is heaven.”

The sight of her tasting what I created…what I cultivated with my own hands long before Crowne Ventures became a billion-dollar machine does something to me I can’t articulate.

It roots me. Grounds me. And yet it threatens to unmoor everything else.

She stretches her legs beneath the table, her toes brushing against my calf.

I can’t stop the low chuckle that escapes me. “You’re dangerous when you’re happy.”

Her lashes lift in sin. “And you like it.”

I don’t deny it. I couldn’t. Not with the way she’s looking at me, peeling away every mask I’ve worn to survive.

For the rest of the afternoon, we linger. Eat too much bread, drink too much wine, and laugh at things I don’t remember laughing at in years.

She tells me stories I’ve never heard. Trivial ones about the comical things she and her friends did after they shot their scenes, like sneaking into clubs she was too young for, and about dreams she never said aloud.

I find myself storing every detail like rare coins I’ll never spend.

The sun dips lower, shadows stretching long across the vines. She leans back in her chair, staring at me like she’s memorizing the man I only allow myself to be here.

And in the quiet between us, it hits me like a knife against bone. I could fallallthe way into her, right here, right now. Meaning I’m so close to letting her into my world.

But if I do… If I let her see the truth in my eyes, hear it in my voice, I won’t just lose my control. I’ll lose the knowing she’s safe because nobody knows we’re together.

So instead, I lift my glass, meet her gaze, and smirk asthough I have nothing to hide coursing beneath my ribs. “To October.”

She clinks her glass against mine. “To us.”

The words carve through me.To us.

Can we last, or have I let myself fall only to be destroyed in the end?

I drink, but the wine tastes like fear. I bury the thought because nothing will tarnish this weekend.

Dinner drifts into nightfall, the terrace emptying until the vineyard belongs only to us. Lanterns strung above flicker in the breeze, washing her skin in gold.

She’s lounging back, glass tilted against her lips, smiling as if she’s planning some kind of mischief. I can’t sit across from her anymore.

I rise and circle the table. She peeks up with that grin that guts me. I pull her to her feet, her body colliding with mine, and her giggle curling around us like a warm blanket.

“Jax.” Her hands slide up my chest. “You’re supposed to be the serious one.”

“Not tonight.” My voice is low and threaded with want. “Not with you.”

We leave the terrace for the path that winds between the vineyard buildings. The October air carries the scent of crushed grapes and damp earth, heady enough to blur the edges of control.

She stumbles a little on the uneven stone. I grip her hand, steadying her until she presses closer, until steadiness turns into temptation. She’s right here and tastes of my wine.