6.

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Jagger

Clara jumped out of the bed the moment she saw me buttoning up my shirt. Her messy blonde hair fell over her face as she blinked at the clock, eyes widening. “I don’t get it, babe. You said that was your last case and you’d finally take over the family business like your grandfather wanted. What the hell are you wearing that goddamn suit for?”

I stared at her through the mirror, fixing my tie. She always got dramatic before breakfast. “Right. I did say that,” I muttered, adjusting the knot until it sat straight. “But I still have JW Group to handle. Clients who need me. I thought I’d take some time before I throw myself into being a chairman and CEO all at once.”

She frowned, crawling across the bed, sheets wrapped around her. “You realize our wedding is in a few months, right? My father won’t allow it if you’re still doing this lawyer thing. Please, Jagger…” Her voice softened. “You promised me.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be back early today.” I leaned down and kissed her lips, quick and distracted, before grabbing my jacket and walking out the door.

The house felt too quiet once the door shut. I didn’t like silence…it had a way of reminding me how much noise my thoughts could make. As I stepped into the garage, the cold air hit my face, clearing my head just enough to notice how heavy it felt, the day, the whole damn idea of pretending to be done with the only thing that made me feel alive.

I started the car, the engine humming low as I drove out through the iron gates. The road stretched out ahead, a clean strip of asphalt and morning fog, but my mind wasn’t on it. I kept thinking about that night at the bar, five days ago. The drunk guy with the dark curls and eyes that looked like they’d forgotten how to trust anyone. I’d dropped my card beside his hand before I left, told him to call if he needed help. I didn’t even know why I wrote that shit. He hadn’t told me his name, hadn’t asked for mine. But something about him had stayed stuck in my head like a song I couldn’t shake.

Maybe it was because I’d kissed him.

It wasn’t planned. He’d barely been conscious when I carried him into the hotel room, mumbled something that made no sense. I’d laid him down on the bed, turned to leave—and then his hand caught my wrist. His eyes had opened for a second, unfocused but soft. I didn’t know what came over me. I leaned down and kissed him, slow and stupid. Then I left.

Now, five days later, I still couldn’t get the image out of my head. Him asleep, the light falling over his skin, his breath unsteady but calm. Hell, I couldn’t even remember his voice, but I remembered how he looked—like someone who’d stopped fighting the world a long time ago.

I shook my head and focused on the road again. “You’re losing it, Jagger,” I muttered to myself, pulling into JW Group’s parking lot. “You don’t even know his name.”

Inside the building, the noise and movement felt good, grounding. My office was on the top floor, but before I could get there, Lucas spotted me near the elevator. He was holding a coffee cup and a file, staring like I’d grown another head.

“Jesus Christ, are you serious right now?” he said. “Did you hit your head the day you decided to hand everything over to me?”

I smirked and took the coffee from his hand, ignoring the file. “Good morning to you too, Lucas.”

“I thought you were done with this lawyer thing,” he said, following me into the elevator. “You told the old man you were ready to be chairman.”

“I am. Just not today.” I took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. “You still drink this bitter crap?”

He snorted. “I like to stay awake. Unlike you, who apparently runs on charm and regret.”

I laughed, more out of habit than humor, and stepped out when the elevator opened. “You should try it sometime,” I said over my shoulder. “Might make you popular.”

“Funny. By the way, someone’s waiting for you in your office,” Lucas called after me.

I paused, turning halfway. “Someone?”

“Yeah. Said it was urgent. Didn’t give a name.” He shrugged. “Looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Probably one of your messy clients.”

My pulse jumped before I could stop it. I didn’t say anything, just waved him off and kept walking. It couldn’t be him. It had been five days. But a stupid part of me hoped it was.

The corridor leading to my office felt longer than usual. My hand tightened on the handle for a second before I pushed the door open.

There was someone sitting on the chair across from my desk, back turned slightly toward the window. The sunlight caught in his dark coily hair, making it almost bronze at the tips. I froze. The smell of a familiar cologne hit me first, faint but distinct. Then he turned his head, slow and tired, and our eyes met.

My breath caught.

It was him. The man from the bar.

The same dark eyes, sharper now but still carrying something broken. He looked… different, like the world had chewed him up and spit him out in the same week. The suit he wore didn’t fit right, his tie half undone, and his fingers were tapping against his knee like he was trying not to shake.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t hear the words over the sudden rush in my ears. I couldn’t move.

He was really here.

Fuck! I had no idea what the hell to say to him.

Hello? Hey? But why the hell is it hard to even say a word? Not like I'm new to clients. 

Pull your pants up Jagger.