C3 Funeral Flames

The Beverly Hills cemetery sat under a merciless blue sky, the kind of perfect California day that felt like a cruel joke. Elara stood beside the twin caskets, black dress clinging to her curves from the heat. Hundreds of people had shown up, some genuinely grieving, most hungry for gossip about the Voss empire. The air smelled of fresh flowers and expensive perfume.

Jax stood at her side like a dark shadow, tall and imposing in his fitted black suit. His hand rested lightly on her lower back, guiding her through the crowd. To outsiders it looked protective. To Elara it felt like a brand. Every time his fingers shifted against the thin fabric of her dress, heat crawled up her spine.

She kept her head high even as whispers rippled around them. "Such a tragedy." "The business was already struggling." "Wonder who benefits from all that debt." Elara clenched her jaw. Her parents had built an empire in tech and real estate. Now it lay in ruins, and she was left with nothing but questions and this infuriating stepbrother who would not leave her side.

The service ended in a blur of condolences and fake tears. Jax kept one arm around her waist as they moved toward the waiting cars. His touch was firm, almost possessive, fingers occasionally pressing into her hip when someone stared too long. Elara wanted to pull away, but the crowd pressed close and her legs still felt unsteady from lack of sleep.

In the black town car heading to the lawyer's office for the will reading, Jax sat beside her. The space felt too small. His thigh brushed hers, sending unwanted sparks through her body. She remembered the way he had held her last night, the hardness pressing against her, the way he had almost kissed her before pulling back.

"You holding up?" he asked quietly, voice low enough that only she could hear.

Elara stared straight ahead. "Like you actually care."

His hand landed on her knee, squeezing once. "Watch that mouth, princess. We are in this together whether you like it or not."

The heat from his palm burned through her dress. She hated how her body reacted, thighs pressing together instinctively. Jax noticed. A dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned to look out the window.

The lawyer's office overlooked the hills, all glass and polished wood. Elara sat stiffly in a leather chair while relatives and business associates filled the room. Jax stood behind her like a guard, one hand resting on the back of her chair, fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder.

The lawyer cleared his throat and began reading the will. Most of it was expected, but then came the surprises. Massive debts. Hidden accounts. Clauses about threats against the family. A letter attached warning that "old enemies have come to collect." Gasps rippled through the room. Someone muttered about the ports and shady deals.

Elara's stomach twisted. Her parents had been into something dangerous. Jax's hand tightened on her shoulder, almost painfully. When she glanced up at him, his jaw was locked, eyes scanning the room like he was memorizing every face.

As people filed out, a distant aunt hugged her too tightly and whispered, "Be careful who you trust, dear. Blood is not always thicker than water." Elara shivered. Jax pulled her away quickly, his arm wrapping around her waist again.

Back in the town car, the tension between them thickened. Jax loosened his tie, the top buttons of his shirt open to reveal a hint of tattooed chest. Elara tried not to stare, but her eyes kept drifting to the way his muscles moved under the fabric.

"You knew about the debts," she accused suddenly. "Didn’t you?"

Jax leaned back, spreading his legs so his thigh pressed firmly against hers again. "I knew enough. Our parents played dangerous games. Now we clean up the mess."

His hand found her knee once more, sliding slowly higher this time. Elara's breath hitched. She should slap his hand away. Instead she sat frozen as his thumb traced small circles on her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her dress.

"Stop," she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.

Jax leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You sure you want me to?" His fingers inched higher, brushing the edge of her panties. Heat pooled between her legs despite everything. The car felt too warm, too small, filled with grief and something far more forbidden.

He pulled back at the last second when the driver announced their arrival at the next stop, leaving Elara aching and furious with herself.

At a quiet reception in a private Beverly Hills club, the tension only grew. Elara accepted condolences while Jax hovered nearby, his presence both shield and threat. When an old business associate approached her with questions about the company, Jax stepped in smoothly, steering the man away.

Later, as the sun began to set, they slipped into a side room for a moment alone. Jax closed the door and turned to her. The air crackled between them. He stepped close, backing her against the wall without touching her fully.

"You looked good in that dress today," he murmured, eyes raking over her body. "Too good."

Elara’s heart raced. "This is messed up, Jax. We just buried them."

"Life is messed up." He braced one hand beside her head, leaning in until their lips were inches apart. She could smell his cologne mixed with the faint trace of smoke from the earlier chaos. Her body betrayed her again, nipples tightening under the black fabric.

Just as he started to close the distance, his phone vibrated. He pulled back with a curse and checked it. His expression darkened.

Elara slipped past him on shaky legs, needing air. Outside in the hallway she opened her purse to find her lipstick and froze. A plain black envelope sat inside. She had not put it there.

With trembling fingers she opened it. Inside was a single photo, taken from outside their motel window last night. Her sleeping form curled against Jax’s bare chest, his arm wrapped around her possessively.

Her blood ran cold. Someone had been watching them the entire time.