Aria smiled—genuine this time, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a fraction. “She sounds like the best.”
“She is.” He paused, then added quieter, “She’s the only one who ever told me I could cry if I needed to. Never made me feel weak for it.”
The vulnerability landed softly between them. Aria felt the air shift—warmer, closer. Jax leaned forward a fraction, elbows on the table, gaze steady on hers. The way he looked at her now wasn’t casual. It was interested. Intent.
The realization hit her like cold water.
He thought this was a date.
The compliments, the lingering eye contact, the easy way he’d steered the conversation toward personal ground—he wasn’t just being friendly. He was flirting. Gently, confidently, the way a man does when he’s enjoying himself and thinks the feeling might be mutual.
Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t meant to send that signal. She needed him to understand this was business, not chemistry. Not possibility.
She set her glass down carefully.
“Jax,” she said, voice steady. “I have a proposal for you.”
His brows lifted, a slow, wicked grin spreading. “Is it indecent? Because I’m definitely listening.”
She laughed despite herself—soft, surprised—but shook her head. “No. Strictly business.”
The grin faltered for half a second. He leaned back slightly, curiosity sharpening. “Go on.”
She exhaled, choosing her words with precision. “Under any other circumstances… maybe we could be something. You’recharming, funny, obviously attractive. But you’re not my type. And I’m still very much hung up on my ex.”
His expression shifted—surprise, then a flicker of something that might have been hurt, quickly masked by that trademark easy humour. “Ouch! Straight to the ego, Moon.”
“I’m being honest,” she said gently. “Because I need you to understand this isn’t about attraction. It’s strategy.”
She laid it out then: Min-Jae’s jealous texts after Singapore, the possessive edge in his messages, the way he’d finally cracked open after weeks of silence. How it had hurt, but also given her hope. A way back in.
“And then I remembered what you said on the rooftop,” she continued. “About the team wanting a different image. More stable. More serious. I looked into your history—socials, interviews, articles. You’ve never really been in a relationship. Plenty of women, plenty of nights out, but nothing public, nothing lasting. I don’t think you’re gay—there’s ample proof of… liaisons.” She gave a small, wry smile. “But no actual girlfriends. No one you’ve ever called yours.”
Jax stayed quiet, listening, jaw working slightly.
“So I started thinking,” she said. “What better way to show the sponsors, the owners, the paddock, that you’ve turned over a new leaf? That you’re taking things seriously? A stable, high-profile relationship. We both get what we want. I make Min-Jae jealous enough to come back. You create the narrative they’ve been asking for.”
He let out a low whistle, leaning back fully now. “You seriously think me looking like I have a girlfriend will be enough to make the sponsors happy?”
“Maybe not on its own,” she admitted. “But it changes the story. No more party-boy headlines. No more table-dancing videos the week before a race. You’d agree to no public liaisons with anyone else—not saying you have to be a saint, but any hook-ups would need to be incredibly discreet. This would be strictly business. We date publicly for four to six months—long enough to sell it, long enough for the optics to shift. Then a clean, amicable breakup. Mutual respect. No mess.”
She held his gaze. “And nothing else. No funny business. We’d do some PDA for the cameras—hand-holding, a kiss on the cheek, whatever looks natural—but once the doors close, it’s just an arrangement. Professional.”
Jax studied her for a long moment, the easy charm replaced by something sharper, more thoughtful.
“Of course,” he said finally, voice dry, “you’ve already made it perfectly clear I’m not your type.”
She winced. “I’m sorry if that sounded harsh. I didn’t mean to offend you. I love Min-Jae. He’s the one I’m meant to be with. He’s my soulmate. But of course I find you attractive—you’re a very handsome, …large— man.”
His eyebrows shot up at “large,” a reluctant grin tugging at his mouth. “Large, huh?”
She flushed, laughing softly. “You know what I mean. Physically… imposing.”
He chuckled—low, warm—but the humour didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Here I was thinking my height was my best feature.”
The waiter returned with their food, setting plates down with quiet efficiency. The scent of charred meat and fresh cilantro rose between them, but the easy rhythm they’d had earlier wasgone. The proposal hung in the air like smoke—thick, impossible to ignore.
They ate in near silence for a while. Jax picked at a taco, eyes on his plate. Aria speared a piece of octopus, chewing slowly, the tang of lime and salsa verde sharp on her tongue. Every clink of cutlery, every sip of mezcal felt amplified in the quiet booth.
