IN THE WAKE OF THE SILENT TYCOON

5

Callie descended the escalator at PiCon Elite Mall, the heels of her stilettos tapping rapidly against the polished marble floor. The crowd’s chatter, soft music drifting from luxury stores, and the scent of expensive perfume blended into a dizzying background.

Her hazel eyes scanned the people around her. But in the middle of her distracted observation, her phone buzzed in her bag. Her father’s name flashed on the screen.

“Callie, you need to get ready tonight. I’ve arranged a dinner with Vincent Russo, the son of an old associate. Don’t embarrass me, understand?”

Callie swallowed, her lips tightening. Vincent Russo. The man always annoyed her—arrogant and insufferable. She furrowed her brow and stared at the mall ceiling.

“Yes, Daddy… I understand,” she replied flatly, trying to sound obedient.

But inside, she was already plotting. I’m not going to let myself be stuck with that guy. There has to be a way.

Her mind suddenly went back to the one-night fling she had last night, her heart racing at the memory of their intense warmth.

“Damn… I don’t even know his name clearly, and his face is a little blurry! But from the room he booked, he’s definitely rich.”

Callie’s thought stopped abruptly as she remembered the cleaning service encounter earlier. She shook her head. “No way… it can’t be that guy! What a waste to have given myself to someone helpless. There’s no way he could tip thousands of dollars!”

Lost in her own thoughts, Callie didn’t notice three men in dark uniforms emerging from a side corridor, moving quickly toward her.

“Let’s go, girl,” one of them hissed, his face half-covered by a mask. They approached too fast, too aggressively.

Callie held her breath, her steps halting. She knew this wasn’t a coincidence. She could fight physically, but three against one, in a crowded mall—that was not a safe option.

Her eyes scanned for an escape. They landed on Jaxon. Her chest pounded, and an instinctive urge to call for help surged. She swallowed her pride and the voice in her head that always said, I can handle this myself.

Her thoughts raced: If I pretend to be scared, maybe he’ll help… and maybe I can get closer to my father through this opportunity.

In a nearly whispering but audible voice, she said, “Hey… you! Can… can you help me?”

Jaxon turned, his eyes scanning the scene. He saw the dark-clad men approaching. Without a word, his body moved—fast, agile, like a predator stalking prey.

Callie held her breath. Jaxon slammed a cleaning cart into one of the men’s legs, making him stumble. The other two lunged, but Jaxon was already quick, spinning, punching, and kicking with precision.

“Step back!” Jaxon barked, his voice heavy and cold.

Callie nearly stumbled, but Jaxon grabbed her arm, steadying her. His hands were strong, fast, and reassuring.

One man tried to attack from behind, but Jaxon turned, blocked the strike, and punched him down.

Callie watched, awed and slightly frightened. Her heart raced.

“Who… who are they?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Not important right now,” Jaxon replied, scanning the area to ensure no other threats. “Follow me.”

He led Callie down a quiet service corridor, away from the crowd. Callie felt pain in her right arm, slightly torn from one man’s rough push. A thin trickle of blood appeared, but Jaxon immediately pressed it with his own hand.

“Ah… that hurts,” Callie winced, biting back the pain.

“Quiet, focus,” Jaxon said firmly, locking eyes with her. “I’ve got you.”

Callie swallowed and looked at him. She realized this was an opportunity. Her father’s words about the dinner with Vincent Russo echoed in her mind.

“If I can ask for one more favor…” she whispered, eyes on Jaxon, almost teasing but still cunning. “I… have an event tonight I really don’t want to attend. Can… can you make sure I stay safe until then?”

Jaxon furrowed his brow, reading the situation. There was an opening here—to get closer to her father. He recognized the opportunity but remained cautious.

He leaned slightly, meeting her hazel gaze. “I can help… but you have to follow my instructions. Stay quiet, and don’t make any foolish moves.”

Callie nodded slowly. She knew this was the only way. “Alright. I… will follow.”

Jaxon guided Callie down the secluded service corridor, down the back stairs, into an empty parking area. Daylight fell on the gray concrete, casting long shadows. Callie held her breath, but a sense of relief began to settle.

In the safe spot, Jaxon examined the small wound on Callie’s arm. “You’re hurt, but not seriously. I can handle it,” he said.

Callie looked at him, a thin smile forming despite the pain. “You know… maybe I can make use of you,” she whispered, a mix of cunning and lightheartedness in her tone.

Jaxon stared at her blankly, but his mind quickly calculated strategy. This was a chance to observe Frans Moretti up close, uncover the family’s weaknesses, and pave the way for his next moves.

“Make use… what do you mean?”

Callie smirked, gripping Jaxon’s face. “You’re handsome. I need you to keep me safe from a dinner with a man I don’t want to meet. I’ll buy you a nice outfit.”

Her bold statement startled Jaxon. This was a golden opportunity, and he didn’t hesitate to accept her request.

“Alright, I agree. But you don’t need to buy me clothes—I can manage,” he replied.

Callie laughed. “Wow, you’re really confident! You admitted we met at the bar, and now you’re acting like you already own fancy clothes! By the way, I’m from a wealthy family, so you have to dress properly. Don’t think a T-shirt and jeans will get you into tonight’s event!”

Jaxon gave her a steady look, clearly pleased by her arrogant retort. Even though he appeared dependent on her now, his ego and strength remained unshaken. In his cleaning service disguise, Jaxon knew this was a prime opportunity to study the Moretti family’s strategy and weaknesses.

“I may not be lucky with money, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand etiquette at a formal event. Give me your address, and I’ll come.”

“Do you have a phone?” Callie asked.

“Of course. Give me your number,” Jaxon said.

Callie stared at him for a moment, then exhaled. With a swift yet elegant motion, she took her phone from her Chanel bag and handed it to Jaxon. “Here’s my number. Don’t make me regret trusting you,” she said, her tone a mix of command and playfulness.

Jaxon accepted it, his fingers touching the screen as if calculating his next move. “Alright. I’ll make sure you’re safe until tonight,” he replied.