Page 117 of The Jaded Notes

I clear my throat to erase any emotion. “Livianna…there’s something we need to talk about.”

Her gaze sharpens instantly, that designer intuition reading me like a fabric she’s about to cut. “What?”

I inhale and exhale, but the words taste like betrayal. “I have to move back to the States. Business is pulling me there. And it won’t be weeks or a few months. It’s longer.”

Her body goes still, the air between us tightening like a drawn bow. I hold her face in my hands, force her to see that I’m not asking, not demanding. I’m giving her the power to decide even though every nerve in me wants to beg.

“Livianna, you can come with me. Or you can stay in Paris, where you’ve found yourself, where you’ve built something that’s yours. It’s your choice.”

She appears to be processing the information, and the walls start to rebuild themselves behind her eyes. The vulnerabilityfrom our scene is already retreating, replaced by the ugly iron mask she wears against the world.

“When?” Her voice is neutral now.

“Soon.”

Her eyes glisten again, but this time the tears don’t fall. They burn, caught between pain and anger.

I stroke her cheek with my thumb, aching at the distance already stretching between us. “Whatever you choose, Livianna, I’ll respect it. But I need you to know I don’t walk away from you lightly.”

She nods. Then she pulls away from me, reaching for her robe. The loss of her warmth feels like a physical wound.

“Livianna—”

“It’s fine.” But nothing in her posture suggests she’s being truthful. “This was always temporary, right? You made that clear from the beginning. You told me not to mistake anything we would do for romance or love, and I accepted that fact.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” She stands, tying the belt around her waist with shaking fingers. “You’re moving and going back to a place that leaves me…bare.”

She turns to leave. I rise, catching her wrist before she can run away.

“Come with me and together we’ll change that.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, raw and desperate. “You can find yourself there with me by your side. We’ll make it work, and you can live with me until you don’t want to anymore.”

I didn’t mean to beg. Hell, I haven’t even fully admitted to myself how much I want her to come. But now that it’s out there, I realize how much I need her answer to be yes.

Her eyes widen with shock. “What?”

“Move with me to California. We can figure out the business logistics and get you set up there. Your brand is practically digital anyway. You can design from anywhere.”

For a moment, hope flickers across her features. Then reality crashes back in.

“I can’t just uproot my entire life for you, Jax. Everything I’ve built is here. My connections, my market position, and my identity as Lehlani Rose Designs. It’s all tied to Paris. This is where I finally found myself.”

“You found yourself here, but you’ll flourish anywhere.”

“Will I? Or would I just become another accessory to your empire?” Her skin flushes bright pink. “I’ve spent my whole life bending myself into shapes other people wanted. I can’t do that again. Not even for you.”

The truth in her words cuts deep because I know she’s right. I’m asking her to sacrifice everything she’s worked for, everything she’s become, to follow me into a world where she’ll be forced to face all her demons while I’m too busy to support her through it. But the alternative—losing her—feels impossible to accept.

“So…what are you saying?” I ask, though I already know.

“I’m saying we both knew this had an expiration date.” She rebuilds her walls in real time and disappears behind them. “Maybe it’s better to end it on a high note instead of dragging it out and watching it die slowly.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“But it’s what makes sense.” She strides toward the door, then pauses. “Thank you for tonight. For showing me I could trust someone with that part of myself. But I think...this needs to be our last scene.”

She leaves me standing there, surrounded by the tools of pleasure and release, feeling more empty than I’ve felt in years.