She smoothed her dress, straightened her spine, and walked out to face the music.
Literally.
Jax
THE DOOR CLICKED SHUT. Silence. Jax stood there for a second, maybe three, his pulse still hammering in his ears.
His eyes went to the counter.
The steamer.
Right.
The steamer was still sitting there. Upright. Innocent. A sleek little appliance designed for silk and discretion and repairs that required privacy.
He'd used it on her dress. He'd stood behind her and steamed emerald silk like it was the most normal thing he'd ever done, and his brain was now stuck on the object instead of the moment because the object was safer.
The object wouldn't wreck him.
Jax stared at it.
Kept staring.
His fingers twitched once against his thigh.
"Okay, cool. This is fine."
It wasn't fine.
His brain looped one image and refused the rest. The image: her standing in front of the mirror while he fixed wrinkles. Not touching her skin. Just the fabric. Just putting her back together so she could walk out like nothing had undone her.
She'd let him.
That was the part that kept snagging.
His hand moved toward the steamer. Stopped.
Don't be weird about the appliance, his brain offered.
Too late.
He was already weird about the appliance.
His pulse kicked once, hard and misaligned, like a system error he couldn't reroute.
His brain kept replaying what he'd actually done.
Watched the feeds. All day.
Told himself he was checking for Chad, monitoring threats, standard security protocol.
No.
He'd been tracking her. Library door opening. April stepping out, moving toward the powder suites. He'd known where she was going before she did.
Service corridor. Faster route. Got there first.
Waited.
