Then stepped into the room while she was at the mirror, hands braced on marble, trying to hold herself together.
He'd told himself it was protection. Safety. Being available when she needed him.
This was surveillance. Interception. Watching someone who didn't know they were being watched and calling it care.
She'd figured it out anyway.
"You've been watching."
She knew. Not just the tickets. Two years of manufactured proximity. The feeds. The tracking. The pattern.
And she'd kissed him.
That's not how consequences work.
Except, server room:Consequences aren't sexy until I say so.
She'd seen the full scope. The boundary violations. The obsession.
And she'd recategorized it. Not forgiven. Claimed.
Turned his surveillance into hers to direct. His violation into her terms.
The guy who watched feeds and tracked movements and crossed every line he had.
She saw it and decided it was acceptable when she was the one in control.
He had nowhere to put that.
His hand moved. It touched the steamer's handle.
Still warm.
Real.
"Okay," he said to the empty room.
But it wasn't okay.
Because the world had shifted.
April Feuller had chosen him, not as a convenient option, not as chaos, not as rebellion.
Ashim.
The steamer sat there. Silent and smug.
Jax's fingers curled once against the counter.
He didn't move.
Couldn't, yet.
Walking out meant being normal about it.
He had no idea how to be normal about her kissing him first, choosing him and then walking out with zero regrets.
The steamer gleamed.
