Chapter 326 - 0326: Jaxx Is Not Good For You

Chapter 326: Chapter 0326: Jaxx Is Not Good For You

Elena’s Point Of View

As the roar of Jaxx’s sports car finally faded down the estate’s asphalt drive, a strange, heavy stillness descended over the porch. I stood there, fingers still pressed against my lips... tingling, swollen, and bruised from the way he’d kissed me beneath the open sun. The sensation was ridiculous, intoxicating, terrifying all at once. My heart still hammered against my ribs, refusing to settle into its normal rhythm.

Leaning my back against the cool white brick of the doorway, I watched the empty space where his car had vanished from sight. An unexpected wave of sadness washed over me... sudden, stupid, undeniable. My chest felt hollow, as if something vital had been carved out and driven away with him. I didn’t want him to leave. Not even for fifteen minutes. The realization struck me with uncomfortable clarity, settling like a weight in my stomach.

How had I become this person? This needy version of myself I barely recognized?

When did I become so completely hung up on him? The transformation terrified me. A month ago, I’d wanted to throw a printer at his head during one of our countless arguments. Now I stood here shivering in a towel because his absence left the air feeling thin and empty, like a room suddenly deprived of oxygen. The shift had been so gradual, so insidious, that I hadn’t noticed until it was too late, until I was already in too deep.

I shook my head violently to clear the fog, though a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of my mouth despite my best efforts. "Fifteen minutes anyway," I muttered to the empty driveway, twisting the gold handle. "He said fifteen, but knowing him, he’ll break every speed limit in Houston to get back here." The thought warmed something inside me, spreading through my chest like honey. "That should give me just enough time to finish my bath and get dressed."

I stepped inside and kicked the mahogany door shut with my heel. The click of the lock felt safe, reassuring... a small barrier between the world and this strange new vulnerability I’d discovered. The house wrapped around me like a cocoon, familiar and protective. I grabbed the smaller, fluffy yellow towel from the wooden stool in the foyer and clumsily wrapped it around my wet hair, twisting it into a lopsided turban.

Water droplets ran down my neck as I adjusted the main white towel around my body, tucking the edge tightly above my chest. My skin still felt warm from where his hands had touched me.

"That pervert," I whispered, my cheeks heating up again as his parting comment echoed in my ears.

’The black outfit.’ He was truly insufferable, and yet the memory of his voice saying those words sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. I could still see the wicked gleam in his eyes, the way his gaze had traveled over me with such deliberate appreciation.

God, what was he doing to me?

I turned toward the grand staircase, ready to sprint upward and actually put some clothes on before he stormed back in, when the sharp, loud chime of the doorbell rang through the quiet house. Ding-dong.

A massive, bright smile broke across my face instantly. My heart did a little flip, that foolish, giddy sensation I was becoming far too familiar with. I spun around on my bare heels, already laughing. "Why is he knocking?" I called out to no one, shaking my head with affection. "Did he forget his keycard already? Absolute idiot." The man had a photographic memory for business deals but couldn’t remember basic things like keys. It was endearing in the most frustrating way.

I rushed back toward the front door, bare feet padding softly against the cold hardwood floor. My pulse quickened with anticipation... maybe he’d changed his mind, decided the errand could wait. Maybe he’d missed me as much as I already missed him. The possibility made my stomach flutter with ridiculous hope.

I didn’t even bother looking through the peephole. I just grabbed the lock, twisted it, and flung the door wide open with a dramatic flourish, already preparing some teasing remark about his inability to stay away.

"Jaxx, did you change your mi... "

The words died in my throat. The air in my lungs froze into solid blocks of ice.

I stopped dead, fingers gripping the edge of the door so hard my nails dug into the wood. The person standing on my porch wasn’t Jaxx.

It was Graham.

My brain short-circuited completely. I stared at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open as a suffocating wave of shock and confusion hit me like a physical blow. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity as I watched different emotions flicker across his face. His eyes darted to my bare, damp shoulders, the towel clutching my chest, the wet hair still dripping onto my skin.

I could see the exact moment comprehension dawned on him... the raw, hollow shock that mirrored my own, followed by confusion, and then, within a millisecond, something darker. Something possessive and wounded. His expression hardened into an ugly flash of pure anger, his jaw clenching so tight I could see the muscle jump beneath his skin. The vein in his temple pulsed visibly.

My survival instincts kicked in before my brain could even process the nightmare unfolding on my doorstep. I gathered every ounce of strength in my arms and tried to slam the door shut in his face, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Thud.

He was too fast. Graham lunged forward, his expensive leather shoe jamming into the doorframe, his palm flat against the wood as he pushed back with desperate, frantic strength. The door shuddered between us, caught in our opposing forces. I could feel his weight pressing against it, relentless and determined.

"Elena, please!" he rasped, his voice sounding hollow, completely ruined by what looked like days of no sleep. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually immaculate appearance had deteriorated into something almost unrecognizable. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair unkempt, stubble darkening his jaw. He looked like a man unraveling, coming apart at the seams. "I just want us to talk. Just five minutes. That’s all I’m asking."

The familiar sound of my name on his lips... once so comforting, now so invasive, sent panic coursing through my veins. My hands trembled against the door, my whole body beginning to shake with a mixture of anger and adrenaline.

I leaned my entire weight against the door, my bare toes gripping the floorboards as I glared at him through the narrow crack. Every muscle in my body tensed with the effort of keeping him out. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild drumbeat of anger and something else I refused to name. The sheer audacity of this man showing up at my sanctuary made my blood boil.

"Talk about what, Graham?" The words tore from my throat, my voice cracking with pure, unadulterated frustration. Heat flooded my cheeks as months of buried rage threatened to surface. "What do you want from me? And how the hell did you find me? How did you get past the gates?"

"It doesn’t matter," he said, his breathing heavy, his tailored suit jacket slightly rumpled as he held the door open against my force. Sweat beaded at his temples despite the cool morning air. He lifted his hands, and only then did I notice the massive, ridiculous bouquet of blue delphiniums and a wicker basket filled with things I used to love. Things he remembered.

My chest tightened at the sight... he’d always been good at grand gestures, at remembering the small details that once made me feel seen. "The only important thing is that I’m here, Elena. I brought your favorites. The dark chocolates, the lavender honey... I went to the shop on Richmond."

A sharp, cynical sneer twisted my lips, the expression feeling like acid on my tongue. The shop on Richmond. Of course he’d gone there, to the place where we’d spent lazy Sunday mornings, where he’d once kissed chocolate from my fingertips. The memory felt like a betrayal. "Take both you and your stupid gifts off my property, Graham! Right now! Get off my porch, or I will personally call the estate security and have them drag you out of here in handcuffs."

"Elena, please listen," he begged, his eyes wide and bloodshot, looking at me with a pathetic kind of longing that made my stomach churn. Dark circles shadowed his face, as if he hadn’t slept in days. His usually immaculate appearance had deteriorated into something almost unrecognizable.

This wasn’t the polished, confident man I’d married. This was someone unraveling. "Just this once. Just give me a few minutes. I won’t take much of your time, I swear. Just let me step inside."

"I would be a total fool to let you into my house." I spat the words back at him, my arms shaking from the effort of holding the door. My shoulder ached where it pressed against the wood, a physical pain that somehow felt easier to bear than the emotional turmoil churning in my gut. "You have zero right to be here. You lost that right months ago."

"Please, Elena. Please." His voice broke on my name, the syllables fracturing like glass.

The sound of it... my name in his mouth, broken and desperate, sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I hated that some small, wounded part of me still responded to his pain.

"Get out, Graham! Get lost! Go back to your perfect little life and leave me alone!"

"Three minutes please." He pleaded, his hand gripping the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles turned purple. A vein pulsed at his temple, throbbing with the rhythm of his desperation. "Just three minutes. Start a timer. If you want me to leave after that, I’ll walk away. Just give me three minutes."

I stared at his pathetic, desperate face through the crack, the heavy fatigue of the last week weighing down on my shoulders like stones. I was so tired. So incredibly tired of running, of hiding, of having this shadow hang over me. The sleepless nights, the constant looking over my shoulder, the way my hands still trembled when I thought about what he’d done, it had all worn me down to nothing.

Part of me wanted to hear what excuse he’d conjured this time, what elaborate justification he’d constructed for destroying everything we’d built. Maybe if I heard it, I could finally put this Chapter to rest. I let out a long, ragged sigh, my muscles suddenly giving up the fight. I stepped back, letting the door swing open.

"Three minutes," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, dead register as I crossed my arms tightly over the towel at my chest. The terry cloth felt inadequate, a flimsy barrier between us. "Start talking. The clock is ticking."

Graham stepped into the foyer immediately, the heavy scent of his expensive, familiar cologne invading my space, making the air feel instantly suffocating. It was the same scent that used to comfort me, that used to mean home and safety and love.

Now it only made me nauseous, a reminder of everything that had curdled and spoiled. He set the basket and the flowers down on the wooden stool clumsily, his eyes never leaving my face. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Elena... come back to me." He took a step closer, his hands coming up as if he wanted to reach for my shoulders. I noticed they trembled slightly, betraying the carefully controlled desperation in his voice. "Please. I still love you. I never stopped."

A loud, hysterical laugh erupted from my chest, echoing off the high ceilings of the foyer. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard in my life. The absurdity of it threatened to break something inside me, to crack open the carefully constructed walls I’d built around my heart. "Stop humoring me, Graham. Seriously. What else do you have to say? Because you’ve used up thirty seconds on a joke."

"I’m serious, Elena!" he shouted softly, his jaw clenching as he took another desperate step toward me. His hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white with tension. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a single second. This whole thing with Lillian... it was just a mistake. A terrible, catastrophic mistake that my father pushed me into. But you... you are my wife."

The mention of his father made something hot and vicious coil in my stomach. Always his father. Always someone else to blame.

"Ex-wife." I corrected sharply, my voice cutting through his desperation like a razor blade. I took a step back, keeping the distance between us wide and cold. The marble floor felt like ice beneath my bare feet, grounding me in the present moment. "We are divorced, Graham. The paperwork is finalized. The ink has been dry for weeks. You have a child now. You have a life with someone else."

"I don’t care about any of that!" he cried, his face twisting into a mask of pure pain. His eyes glistened with unshed tears that caught the morning light streaming through the windows.

For a moment, he looked like the boy I’d fallen in love with all those years ago... vulnerable, raw, achingly human. "I want you back. I can fix this, Elena. We can leave the city, we can start over. Jaxx... Jaxx is not good for you. You don’t know what he is. He’s just using you to get to me."