When we landed in Los Angeles, the experience was similar to in St. Tropez—we arrived off to the side of the tarmac, isolated from the busy LAX airport. A discreet car with tinted windows picked us up, and we soared out of the place, avoiding traffic and tourists.

The instant I'd gotten a whiff of the smog-ridden, polluted air of Los Angeles, I relaxed, my shoulders losing tension. As much fun as I'd had in the airplane with Axel—we'd put that bed to good use—I grew nervous the closer we got to landing. How would we be welcomed? Would paparazzi be waiting? Had someone seen us in St. Tropez when we boarded and notified the American press of our liaison?

All sorts of crazy outcomes coiled up in my mind, curling my extremities, tormenting my tummy.

But the private vehicle, the cordoned-off area of the tarmac, and the completely deserted surroundings proved me wrong. I had nothing to worry about.

After giving Axel's driver my address, I stretched out in the backseat, strapping in for a lengthy trip into L.A. proper. Traffic was horrendous, as always, and I anticipated nothing less for this town I loved to hate and hated to love.

Axel sat beside me, calm, unwinding after the arduous journey. He wore expensive sunglasses over his eyes and held my hand. His skin was warm, lightly sun-kissed, gentle freckles along his wrist and up to his knuckles.

Despite all my stress, he smiled at me; a smile that said tons, that woke butterflies in my gut.

Were I not so exhausted from all the sex we'd had on the plane, I'd have mounted him right there, in the back of the car. There was a delimiter between the backseat and the front, giving us ample opportunity to fuck each other's brains out without the driver hearing, seeing, or giving a damn. But my legs were sore, and I struggled to keep my eyes open, jet lag hitting me like a freight train.

The driver was skilled in navigating the L.A. congestion, knowing exactly which side streets to take, which to avoid, which areas to slow down through or speed up. Almost as if he was used to it; as if he drove Axel around quite a bit.

"Do you come here often?" I asked, squinting at the screen that separated us from the driver. "This guy knows his way around better than I do."

"I'm in Los Angeles a lot more than you think," Axel said, squeezing my hand. "Though my main headquarters are in New York, we do have a large office here, and with our expansion into Asia, this is a more central location."

"Wait." I removed my hand from his and spun in my seat to face him. "You've been in town so often, and I had no idea? You were sending me your encrypted emails approving budget changes and checks—and you were here?"

"I mean," Axel scoffed, "it's a huge city, so I doubt we would have bumped into each other, but yeah. I knew where your firm was located, and the day I came in to hire you, request you, you were on site at another wedding."

I froze. There'd been a chance for me to meet Axel in person months ago, and I'd missed it. What would have happened if we'd been introduced earlier? Would there have been the same electricity between us, the allure neither of us could resist?

Fate had wanted me to be busy that day, when he'd dropped by. Fate had wanted me to encounter him in St. Tropez and not know who he was. Damn Fate—it had put me in a tight spot, testing my strength, my urges.

Thankfully, Fate had also decided we could finally explore the possibility of being together without getting in trouble.

As the car rolled up to the curb near my building's entrance, I gritted my teeth.

I was about to invite him up, but didn't remember the state of my apartment. I'd made a mess of clothes and shoes when packing, but I wasn't sure if I'd tidied it up before hurrying out the door. And staring at my building, its faded brick surface, the coded door that didn't really prevent any break-ins, I definitely didn't want Axel seeing the place I lived in. Compared to the luxury he was bathed in, the fancy rooms, sleek cars, fucking private planes, he'd be embarrassed to see my studio, wouldn't he?

I nearly smacked myself; there I was making assumptions again. Axel Levine was full of surprises, and I needed to stop thinking he only cared about status and wealth. He'd made it quite clear to me that wasn't the case.

"I'd offer for you to come up, but my place is a mess." I gestured at the door, then unbuckled my seatbelt. "I don't know if you wanted to see it, or if you were dropping me off, or if you wanted me to grab some things and come to your place—"

Axel unfastened his seatbelt, the motion interrupting my panicked speech. "I'd love to see your apartment, regardless of what it looks like. But yes, I'd prefer it if you packed an overnight bag and stayed with me. I—" He paused, eyebrows scrunching as a vibrating noise cut him off. "Hang on, one second." He pulled out his phone from his pocket, its vibrations so loud the entire backseat shook with it. He squinted at the screen. "I have to take this."

I slouched into the cushions as he picked up the call. I swallowed my curiosity as I wondered who'd interrupted our conversation.

"What's up?" His voice was smooth, supple, as if talking to a good friend. So it wasn't business, at least. "Oh, wow...congratulations. It's about time." He sat up straight, a soft smile spreading over his lips. "When did it happen? Oh...that's wonderful. I'm super happy for you both."

I watched his body language change as whoever was on the other end of the line spoke. I couldn't hear who it was, but Axel went from beaming in pleasure, to confused, to frowning. Whatever great news he'd received was taking a sudden turn for the worse.

"Uh huh...uh huh...oh, wow." He tensed, turning away from me and glancing out the opposite window. "Really?" He craned his neck to view me, his eyes wide, his lips down-turned; then he reverted to peering elsewhere, his voice grumbling in his throat.

The person on the other line talked a lot, and whatever they said disturbed Axel, shifting his behavior within seconds. He'd been tender on the ride from the airport; fingers nestled between mine, grinning at me, pointing out restaurants and bars he enjoyed, discussing projects his company was working on.

For a moment, I'd felt like we were dating, that we'd been dating for a while. I'd envisioned us doing things together—going out to eat, walking along the ocean, hiking up to the Hollywood Hills. The level of comfort between us, considering we'd only met in person days ago, was off the charts. I'd never felt this way around anyone, less so a potential significant other.

So what had changed? What had this person told him that'd made him uncomfortable, needing to put more space between us?

"Um, well, I can certainly ask her, if that's who you want." He fixed his gaze on the screen delimiter, wincing. "Yeah, I still have all her information, I can contact her if you'd like." With a silent sigh, he rubbed between his eyebrows. "Or I can send you her number and you can talk to her. I'm sure she'll agree." He nodded, and though his voice came out normally, his face was scrunched, worry squaring his shoulders, his arms rigid and tense. "Love you, too. Congratulations again."

Love you, too?

I didn't want to assume—I'd sworn to myself I'd try to stop—but for a second, I feared Axel was already in a relationship. He wasn't married, I knew that; but what if he'd been involved with someone here while he voyaged to St. Tropez? What if he'd lied to me and wasn't the person I thought he was?

"That was Estelle," he said, once he'd hung up the phone. He still wouldn't look at me, and his chin dipped.

Oh, duh. Of course he'd say "I love you" to a sibling.

"Is everything okay?" My spine tingled, and whatever tension Axel was experiencing started to transfer to me.

Axel flinched. "I can't come up with you. Actually," he twisted to me, his grimace so pronounced it took me aback, "you can't come over to my place, either. We can't...I mean, I can, but you have your rules, so..."

"Axel," I said, touching his shoulder; he recoiled so fast that I gasped. "Whoa, what's going on? Did I do something wrong? Everything was fine a second ago."

He shook his head. "It's not you. It's," he blew out a shaky breath, "it's Estelle. Like I said, that was her, on the phone. Mollie proposed to her, back in St. Tropez."

I narrowed my gaze. "Is that not good news? You congratulated her, but are you not pleased with it? And what does that have to do with me, with us?"

"I'm beyond pleased." Axel massaged his temples. "Mollie and Estelle are perfect together. A power couple. They deserve this. That's not the problem." His fingers moved to his scalp, twirling into his ginger hair. "The problem is they specifically asked for you as their wedding planner."

My heart skipped a beat. Or maybe it stopped altogether, I couldn't quite tell. Spots danced before my eyes and I felt myself melting into the leather seat. My ears clogged, my fingers grew numb.

Had I been shoved under water? Had I lost my mind? Had Axel just told me what I thought he had?

"What?"

"They want you as their wedding planner. Here, in L.A. Effective immediately, more or less. What with how unstable LGBTQ+ weddings are, and whatnot." He reached towards me, then drew his arm back, deciding against touching me. "They want me to pass your info over right now so they can get started. Despite their hectic schedules, they'd like to plan something fast and fancy and they took note of your prowess during Violet's event, so..." He groaned. "And of course, I'd be the one paying for everything, again..."

"I..." My mouth gaped open, my words caught in my throat. I'd prepared for all eventualities—Axel hating my lifestyle, him secretly seeing someone else, him putting his money before me, like Olivia had—but not this. Not another circumstance that would forbid us from spending time together. Not another situation where my firm's rules took precedence and I had to ignore my heart in order to not lose my job.

"I'm sorry," he said, lips pulled between his teeth. "You could say no, you could—"

"—are you kidding me?" I swallowed as I fished my keys out of my purse. "Turning down another Levine event? That would get me fired on the spot. Probably worse than being discovered sleeping with you." My hands shook as I set them on the door handle. "And you'd be disappointed, too, wouldn't you? Would you want to keep seeing me if I declined to organize her wedding? After all the research you did and how you insisted I work with Violet? No, no, you wouldn't want to. And that's not me assuming—that's the truth, and you know it."

Estelle was huge in the L.A food scene. Well-known and well-loved and respected. And Mollie was a fierce advocate for the less fortunate, a woman who made waves in the LGBTQ community, which I was also a part of. To refuse to help either of them was career suicide; I knew that, and so did Axel.

But accepting...meant postponing my time getting to know Axel. We'd managed to hide in St. Tropez, but in Los Angeles? A city loaded with paparazzi who'd follow me around the instant I became associated with the famous Estelle Levine?

I'd be caught. Axel would be caught. And the job I'd fought for would go down the drain.

"So we're back at square one," I said, biting the insides of my cheeks to stop tears from flowing. Tears I didn't expect to have for someone I barely knew. Tears I didn't want to have. "I have to go."

Axel seized my wrist. "Are you taking the gig, then?" His tone was pleading, weak. A sound I'd never heard escape his mouth before, and it tested my resolve, my spirit.

"I have to," I said, refusing to look at him, knowing that one glance would flip my world upside down and convince me to say fuck it to my career. I couldn't, I wouldn't do that. "Thank you for the ride, Axel. Mr. Levine. I'll be sending you a new contract soon. And waiting to hear from your sister to get started."

I exited the car without another word, without a hug, a kiss, a touch. It was too hard, too much.

As the driver unloaded my things, and even offered to help me get them upstairs, I did all in my power to not stare at the window behind which Axel was sitting. I couldn't see him, but that was for the better. Because if our eyes met, I'd cave. I'd change my mind.

I couldn't change my mind.

Moments later, the vehicle zoomed off down the street, disappearing into the traffic. And there I stood, shivering, on the verge of crying. Still craving Axel Levine, the CEO I never knew I'd dreamed of, and who'd have to remain a dream, for now. Forever?

☼☼☼