Page 138 of The Jaded Notes

Livianna and I are halfway up the Pacific Coast Highway when I glance over and realize she hasn’t said a word in ten minutes. For Livianna, that’s unusual. She’s practically allergic to silence.

“Are you okay?” I keep one hand on the wheel. “I’m not used to this kind of quiet from you.”

She blinks at the ocean view, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. The golden-hour light catches the tangles of her hair, turning each strand into spun dark copper and fire.

There’s a restlessness in the way she shifts against the leather seat like she’s trying to contain something too big for her skin.

“Yeah.” She reaches for her seatbelt, and her fingers work the clasp with precision. “I just need a second.”

Before I can process what’s happening, she’s rising from her seat like a phoenix emerging from flame.

The wind immediately catches her long curls, whipping them into a wild halo around her face as she stretches her arms toward the sky.

Her dress flutters around her thighs, and for a heart-stopping moment, she looks like she’s about to take flight.

“Livianna, sit down!” My heart hammers against my rib cage as I grip the steering wheel tighter, the Aston Martin suddenly feeling like it’s careening toward the edge of the world. “You’re going to fall!”

In true Livianna form, she doesn’t listen. Instead, she throws her head back and laughs. The sound is pure and unrestrained. It’s carried away by the ocean breeze like a prayer to whatever gods watch over beautiful, defiant women.

Her face dips toward the setting sun. Her eyes are closed, and her arms are stretched wide like she’s embracing the entire Pacific coastline.

She’s magnificent. Terrifying. Completely unhinged. And I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.

“This is what freedom feels like, Jax.” She opens her eyes and gazes down at me, wild and grinning with the kind of joy that could power cities. “Don’t take it from me, king.”

My chest cracks open at the raw vulnerability in her voice, the desperate plea hidden beneath the surface. She leaves me in awe.

How many people in her life have tried to contain her brightness? How many have told this wildfire of a woman to burn quieter, smaller, and safer?

I glance up at her, laughter bubbling out of me despite the terror clawing at my throat. She’s completely mad standing in a convertible doing seventy on a coastal highway, and somehow it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“I see your crazy shining through, firecracker. And hey, I’m crazy too.” My voice cracks with something that might bepanic or might be radical disbelief. “But sit down before I kill us both.”

The Aston Martin’s tires find gravel as I pull over. My pulse is still racing through my veins.

She drops back into her seat with fluid grace, but the wildness doesn’t leave her eyes. If anything, it burns brighter, like she’s tasted something addictive and already craves more.

“Jax, I always want to feel this way.”

Without thinking, I reach for her hand and press it flat against my chest, right over the heart that’s been beating her name since the moment she walked into my life in Paris. Her palm is warm through the cotton of my shirt.

“Then let’s never cage it,mon trésor.”

I’ve built my entire empire on control, on measured responses and calculated risks. But this woman makes me want to throw caution to the wind and see where it lands.

She stares at me with those impossible blue eyes, searching my face like she’s trying to decode some secret message written in the lines around my eyes and the tension in my jaw.

There’s something vulnerable in the way she’s staring at me. Like she’s testing whether I’m serious about what I just said or if I’m another person who will try to dim her light.

“Do you mean that?” Her voice is softer now, barely audible over the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below us.

“I do.” I lift our joined hands and brush my lips against her knuckles, tasting salt air and something uniquely her. “I mean every word.”

The silence that stretches between us feels different now, charged with possibilities and unspoken promises. The sun continues its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of coral and gold that seem explicitly designed to frame this moment.

She shifts in her seat, angling her body toward minewithout pulling her hand away from me. “Tell me about this vineyard we’re supposed to be looking at.”

The vineyard. Right. The business meeting that feels increasingly irrelevant with each passing second.