He nodded slowly, like he’d turned the words over beforehand. “Family matters. I get it.” A pause. “After Christmas, though… I’ve got the family villa down in the South of France for a week. Nothing big—just a few people. No media, no spotlight. Thought you might want to join.”
Her fingers paused on her bag zipper.
“It’s not just us,” he added fast, reading the flicker of caution on her face. “Jax is already in—he’s craving sun after all the grey. Dana too; she said she’s overdue a real break. Just friends. Good food, pool, maybe a boat if the weather holds. No expectations.”
Mia studied him. His face was open—nervous in a way that felt almost boyish, stripped of the careful driver mask. Not the man who’d pressed her against a Monaco wall. Just Lucas. Asking. Hoping.
“Just friends,” she repeated softly.
“Just friends,” he echoed. “I’d like you there, though. It’d be nice having you around.”
She let out a slow breath. Jax’s chaos and Dana’s calm made it feel… contained. A group thing, not a charged escape. No need to define whatever lingered between them. No immediate risk ofredrawing lines they’d both worked hard to redraw.
“I’ll think about France,” she said. “Once I’m home.”
He gave her a real smile then—the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Take your time. No pressure. Just… let me know.”
She nodded. “I will.”
He held her gaze a second longer—steady, warm—then turned back to the suite. She watched him walk away, the overhead lights catching in his hair, carrying the season’s weight without bowing under it.
Mia left with the invitation settling in her chest—warm, uncertain, alive. A week in the South of France. Jax and Dana there. Friends. Nothing more.
She told herself that was the shape of it.
She didn’t say yes. Not yet.
But for the first time in months, the possibility didn’t feel like danger.
It felt like something opening.
???
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mia
Mia’s phone rang while she was still in her childhood bedroom in Amberley—Christmas decorations still up, the faint smell of pine needles lingering. She saw Dana’s name and answered immediately.
“Hey Dana. You okay? Thought you’d be sleeping off turkey coma.”
Dana’s voice came through hoarse and stuffed. “Wish I was. Caught the worst cold ever. Mum’s been feeding me soup and guilt for two days. I sound like a broken foghorn.”
Mia winced. “Oh no. You do sound awful.”
“Yeah. Fever, cough, the lot. Doctor says I’m grounded—no travel for at least a week. Which means…” She coughed once, winced. “I’m out for the villa next week. I’m so sorry, Mia.”
Mia sat down on the edge of her bed. “Don’t be sorry. You need to rest. France can wait.”
“I know, but—” Dana sniffed. “I was looking forward to it. And I hate leaving you in the lurch. But at least Jax will be there. He’ll keep things light. You won’t be stuck with Lucas brooding the whole time.”
Mia laughed despite herself. “True. Jax alone could probably carry a conversation for seven days.”
“Exactly. He’ll have you both laughing at his terrible jokes by day two.” Dana’s voice softened. “You’ll be okay, right?”
Mia looked out the window at the summer garden—roses blooming. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
“Good. Text me photos. And if Lucas starts sulking, tell Jax to dunk him in the pool.”
