Pick you up tomorrow at seven

Jax Pov

I watch her carefully, waiting for a reaction but I get close to none. But I can not miss how her green pupils dilated with excitement.

She then stares at me, brows drawn together, lips slightly parted—like she is waiting for me to say I am joking. That this is some kind of twisted prank. But I don’t say anything, because I’m not kidding. I meant every damn word.

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “No I cannot. You can get any girl you want. Why me?”

It’s not the first time I have heard that. Hell, my entire life, women have either thrown themselves at me or assumed I was their parasocial partner.

I lean forward, walking and sitting two steps below where she is sitting curled up before resting my elbows on my knees, fingers laced together as I study her. “Because I don’t want just any girl.”

She tilts her head slightly, watching me with cautious eyes.

I roll my shoulders. “ I dont want just a date. Most of them would expect something after. I need someone who knows it’s fake. No drama. No attachments.”

She lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “And you think I won’t?”

“I think you are too smart for these give and take relationships, one that a girl demands much of my time just to get some pussy in return which I can get somewhere for free without wasting my precious time on it-you know I am a busy man.”

Her face hardens, but she doesn’t deny it.

I press on. “I need someone who can go out with me, smile for the cameras, make it believable—and then walk away when the night is over.” My voice drops slightly, losing its usual sarcasm. “No drama. No strings. Just an arrangement.”

She exhales slowly, rubbing her temples. “It’s… a lot. You know the relationship what if the paparazzi find out about our little stunt and they put it all out there to the public…your career, your brand, and reputation will go down the drain”

I nod. “It is a possibility but they won't find out if we only keep this as our secret.”

The silence between us stretches, thick with hesitation. She is weighing it, I can tell. Every moral instinct in her body is telling her to get the hell out of here. But at the same time, I can see the war in her eyes—the temptation, the absolute need.

Then, she looks at me—really looks at me. And I already know her answer before she speaks.

“Fine,” she breathes, still sounding like she is convincing herself. “But I have conditions.”

A slow smirk tugs at my lips. “Of course you do.”

She narrows her eyes. “No sex.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Noted. But just you know I am not interested in sleeping with you”

I know I sounded harsh, but it was one thing to fake a relationship. It was another to sleep with someone for money. Even in my history of engaging in promiscuous sex I never took advantage of desperate women. You can just say I am a moralled flirt.

“And no unnecessary touching. Only when it’s needed for appearances.”

That one makes me grin. “I can live with that.”

She hesitates, then crosses her arms. “And I can back out anytime I want.”

I shake my head immediately. “That one is a no.”

Her expression tightens. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t just disappear on me in the middle of this.” I lean back against the wall, stretching out my legs. “If you want out, you give me notice. Enough time for me to spin the right excuse to the media about why we broke up.’”

She scowls but doesn’t argue. “Fine. But you can’t force me to stay if I don’t want to.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She lets out a breath, clearly weighing her next words. “And one more thing.”

I wait, raising an eyebrow.

Her next words come out firm, like she is setting it in stone. Trying to convince her little soul “No falling for each other.”

I bark out a laugh, unable to help it. “Trust me, sweetheart. That won’t be a problem. I don't believe in love. Its too mundane for me”

Her face remains unreadable. Like she is daring me to prove her wrong. She then abruptly stands on her feet, outstretching her right shaky hand, saying, “Then we have a deal Mr Carter.”

I push off the wall, stretching out mine before taking it in a firm grip“Alright then. I will have my lawyer draft up the contract.”

Sienna instantly wrinkles her nose in protest. “A contract? Isn’t that a little… too extreme?”

I give her an amused look. “You just set conditions. I am making sure we both stick to them.”

“I wasn’t thinking it was legally binding,” she mutters, tucking a loose curl that had fallen out of her messy updo “More like a verbal agreement.”

I shake my head, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I don't make deals without having to sign a contract. Trust me It is better this way. Legal. Professional. And good for my status.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. “Fine,” she sighs. “Do what you have to do.”

“Good,” I say, rolling my shoulders. “Then get ready.”

Sienna blinks. “For what?”

“Our first public appearance. That image is not gonna clean itself”

Her lips part slightly in surprise, her brows knitting together. “You mean… right now?”

“Tomorrow night.” I push off the wall, flicking another glance at her. “Charity gala. Big event, lots of cameras, good PR.”

She lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “You've got to be kidding.”

“Not even a little.”

Her expression twists into something between disbelief and mild panic. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

I shrug. “I’ll take care of that.”

“No.” She shakes her head firmly. “That’s—too much. I can’t let you buy me a dress.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Sienna, I’m paying off your debts, and you’re worried about a dress?”

She crosses her arms. “Yes. Because a dress isn’t a necessity, and I don’t need you throwing money at me like I’m some charity case.”

I let out a slow breath, forcing down the irritation creeping up my spine. She’s impossible.

“Fine,” I say, voice even. “Wear whatever you have that fits the theme. Green with a touch of gold.”

She exhales in relief, but I’m not done.

“I still need your number. And your address.”

She hesitates for half a second, then pulls out her phone. “Give me yours.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. “Look at that, already getting my number.”

She gives me a deadpan stare. “I’m giving you mine so I don’t have to text first.”

I huff out a small laugh but take her phone, punching in my number before handing it back. She quickly saves it, types something, and a second later, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Unknown Number: It’s Sienna. Don’t abuse this privilege.

I arch a brow at her. “Cute.”

She shrugs, slipping her phone into her leather jacket. “I try.”

I step back, scanning her one last time. She still looks cautious, unsure, like she can’t believe she actually agreed to this.

“Pick you up tomorrow at seven,” I say simply, tucking my hands into my pockets.

And before she can change her mind, I turn and walk away.