Chapter 23: A Night of Weakness

Chapter 23: A Night of Weakness

Elena

The tension between them had been unbearable since the press conference and Jason's quiet but deliberate power play.

Elena had spent the day at her boutique, throwing herself into work in an attempt to regain some sense of control. But even as she focused on finalizing new deals and overseeing operations, her mind kept circling back to Jason. The way his voice had dropped during the press conference, the subtle warning beneath his words, the reminder of their contract—it all lingered, refusing to let her go.

By the time she returned to the penthouse that evening, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. She expected Jason to be in his office, still strategizing ways to maintain control over both their public image and their private arrangement. But instead, she found him in the dimly lit living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring out the window at the city skyline.

Something about his posture was different tonight—less composed, more unsettled.

"Drinking alone?" she asked, toeing off her heels as she stepped further into the room.

Jason didn't turn immediately, but his grip on the glass tightened. "You think I need company?"

She sighed, crossing her arms. "I think you don't usually drink unless something is bothering you."

Finally, he turned, his expression unreadable. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

Elena let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you've been acting like a puppet master lately. Or the way you're watching me like I'm a ticking bomb. Take your pick."

Jason studied her, then exhaled sharply before taking a sip of his drink. "And yet, you're still here."

She frowned. "Where else would I be? This is my home too—for now."

"For now," he echoed, rolling the whiskey in his glass. "How quickly things change."

Something in his voice made her hesitate. There was an edge to it, something raw beneath the surface.

"Jason… what's really going on?" she asked, stepping closer.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he downed the rest of his drink, then set the glass aside. When he finally met her gaze, something flickered in his eyes—something Elena couldn't quite place.

"You ever wonder what it's like to be trapped in a life you never chose?" he asked quietly.

The question took her off guard. Jason Sinclair never talked about his emotions—never allowed anyone to see past the ruthless mask he wore. But tonight, something was different.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I think you do."

His lips twisted into something resembling a smile, but it was hollow. "You already know how she died. But what I never told you was how much she fought to stay. How much she gave before there was nothing left."

Elena's breath caught. He had never spoken about his mother before—not even when his father had resurfaced.

Jason continued, his voice detached. "She loved my father. She thought she could save him from himself. She was wrong."

Elena swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say.

"She gave him everything," Jason murmured. "And he destroyed her for it. Piece by piece. Until there was nothing left."

The air between them felt heavy, the weight of his words pressing down on her. "Jason…"

"I swore I would never let anyone have that kind of power over me," he said, his voice rough. "That's why I built this empire. Why I control everything. Because if you don't, someone else will. And they'll ruin you."

Elena's chest tightened. For the first time, she saw not just the ruthless CEO, but the boy who had lost his mother, the man who had spent his entire life trying to outrun her fate.

Without thinking, she reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "You're not your father."

Jason tensed beneath her touch, his jaw clenching. "Aren't I?" he whispered. "Look at us, Elena. This marriage—this deal—it's just another form of control. And you hate me for it."

She should have agreed. Should have reminded him that this was all temporary, that they were only bound by legalities and convenience. But she couldn't. Not after this.

"I don't hate you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not the way I should."

Jason's eyes darkened, his fingers curling around her wrist. "Then what do you feel?"

Her heart pounded. She didn't have an answer—not one she was ready to voice. But the space between them was vanishing, the tension pulling them together like gravity.

Jason's gaze flickered to her lips, hesitation warring with something far more dangerous. And then, before she could think better of it, before she could remind herself of all the reasons this was a bad idea—

His lips brushed against hers.

It wasn't a demand. It wasn't a calculated move. It was something else entirely—something uncertain, unsteady. A moment of weakness, of vulnerability, of two people grasping for something real in the midst of everything that wasn't.

Elena's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. Didn't stop him. Because in that moment, she didn't want to.

Jason deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. Heat flared between them, an undeniable current neither of them could ignore. But just as quickly as it started, Jason pulled back, his breathing uneven, his expression unreadable.

"This—" he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. "This can't happen."

Elena's pulse pounded, but she nodded. "I know."

Silence stretched between them, thick with everything left unsaid.

Jason exhaled sharply, stepping back. "Get some rest, Elena."

For once, she didn't argue. She turned away, heading toward her room, but before she crossed the threshold, she glanced back.

Jason was still standing there, staring at the city beyond the glass, his hands clenched into fists.

And Elena knew, without a doubt, that neither of them would be able to pretend this hadn't happened.

Not anymore.