Jason decided Day Five needed to be about connection, not adrenaline. After the intimacy of the picnic and the subsequent alarm raised by the gun, he needed to gauge Alicia's emotional depth.
He chose a setting that was highly secure yet promoted intimacy: The Siren's Call, a legendary, high-end underground Jazz Club in a sequestered sector of Aethel City.
When Jason picked her up, he was dressed in a sleek charcoal suit. Alicia, having had a full day to compose herself after the previous night's intimacy, wore a sophisticated, black silk dress that flowed when she walked, its high neckline successfully concealing the strap of her preferred holster.
"Where are we going tonight?" Alicia asked, accepting his hand as he guided her into the car.
"Somewhere quiet. Somewhere the conversation can breathe," Jason answered.
The Siren's Call was bathed in low, amber light. Plush velvet seating lined the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of aged whisky and expensive perfume.
A trio on a raised stage was playing a hauntingly soulful piece. Alicia instantly appreciated the security—there was one entry point, two discreetly positioned bouncers, and the clientele looked exclusive and trustworthy.
They settled into a secluded booth. As the music swelled, the conversation turned inward.
"I need to know more about the woman who carries a sidearm to a picnic," Jason said, his tone gentle, not accusatory.
"And I need to know more about the man who still carries photos of his grandmother in his wallet," Alicia countered, referencing a detail she'd spotted when he paid the valet.
Jason smiled, pulling out his wallet to show her a faded photo. "My grandmother taught me how to read people. She's the reason I'm a Security CEO—she always told me the best defence is knowing the enemy's heart." He paused, looking genuinely vulnerable.
"I lost her when I was eighteen. She was my rock. Family means everything to me."
He oversaw Alicia's face. She had retreated slightly, the memory of her own fictional past a sudden, heavy weight.
"What about your family, Alicia?" he asked softly, placing his hand lightly on the back of hers.
Alicia swallowed, readying the script she always used. "My parents... they died in a car crash when I was very young," she murmured, lowering her gaze. It was a clear, tragic explanation that usually shut down further questions. Lie.
"It's why I don't talk about them much."
Jason didn't push the car crash detail. Instead, he observed the profound, almost desperate loneliness that flickered across her eyes, a sadness too deep for standard grief.
"I'm sorry, Alicia," he said, moving his chair closer.
"The world can be cruel when you're young and alone." He paused, giving her a safe space.
"It's hard to trust people when you've had to be your own protector, isn't it?"
Alicia met his eyes, astonished by his perception. He had seen past the lie of the car crash and recognised the truth of her deep, unanchored loneliness—the lingering wound of the orphanage and her secret search for her father.
He didn't try to kiss her. Instead, as the saxophone player launched into a slow, heartbreaking ballad, Jason took her hand and gently placed it flat against his chest, right over his heart. He simply held it there, offering a silent, physical connection.
"You don't have to tell me anything you aren't ready to share," he murmured.
"But I need you to know: whatever secrets you carry, I'm here. Day Five is about trusting me to simply stand still with you."
Alicia felt a powerful wave of emotion—gratitude mixed with sheer terror. The physical heat of Day Four was easy. This quiet, emotional vulnerability was terrifying.
She felt her resolve crumbling beneath the pressure of his genuine warmth.
*****
Jason dropped Alicia off with a lingering look and a soft kiss on her forehead, respecting the emotional boundary he had established.
He didn't push for entry.
When he returned to his penthouse, the first thing he saw was Chris and Jake lounging on his leather couch, drinking his expensive bourbon.
"Day Five report, soldier!" Chris demanded, holding up his glass.
"Jake, did she like the park? Was the picnic romantic?" Chris pushed.
Jason walked to the bar, poured himself a strong glass of bourbon, and took a measured sip. He looked at his two best friends—Chris, the pragmatic analyst, and Jake, the easy-going owner of the park and currently Kristen's boyfriend.
"I'm in," Jason stated, resting his glass on the counter.
"In what? Day Six?" Jake asked, confused.
"I'm in love with her," Jason clarified, the words feeling surprisingly easy and true.
"The seven days are irrelevant. Alicia is... different."
Chris and Jake stared at him. Jason Jennings, the calculated Elite Security CEO, who never committed to anything beyond a three-month contract, was in love after five days.
"Wow," Jake managed. "That's fast, even for you."
Chris, ever the analyst, narrowed his eyes.
"Does she know you're in love with her? Did she reveal any more about the 'security protocols'?"
"She carries a gun, Chris. A serious one," Jason admitted, preempting the next question.
"And no, she doesn't know I'm in love with her. She needs time. She has major walls, but she also has a genuine, soft heart. Today, she told me her parents died in a car crash."
Jake, now serious, nodded. "That's heavy. Look, Chris knows this, but for context, Alicia needs safety. My family has always owned this park, The Glen. It's the only place my mother ever truly relaxed after... well, after her divorce. I appreciate you respecting the space, Jason. It's important to me that the people I care about feel safe there. If Alicia found comfort there, it means she's letting her guard down."
Jason nodded, making the connection. He understood Jake's protectiveness of that space, and it reinforced his respect for Alicia's need for security.
"I need to figure out what her deal is, without running a full background check. That would kill the trust," Jason mused, running a hand through his hair.
"You're the Security CEO," Chris shrugged.
"You'll figure it out. But Day Six better be epic, man. She just showed you a lie—she needs to show you a truth."
.
.
.
Alicia waited until the next morning to call her friends. She couldn't face them immediately after the emotional intimacy of the night before.
When she finally connected with Lucy and Kristen, she kept the description of the Jazz Club clinical and brief.
"Did you dance? Did he kiss you?" Kristen asked, bypassing the venue details.
"Yes, and no," Alicia said, surprising them both.
"No kiss?" Lucy questioned. "After the picnic on Day Four? What happened?"
"We talked about family," Alicia summarised, her voice flat.
"He told me about his grandmother. And I told him the car crash story."
"The lie?" Lucy whispered, horrified.
"Yes. But he didn't push it. He just... held my hand over his heart while the slow music played," Alicia confessed, her composure beginning to crack.
"It was worse than the kiss, girls. He looked straight past the lie and saw that I was hurting. He saw my loneliness."
Kristen was silent for once, sensing the depth of the issue.
"Alicia, he's not interested in your professional secrets, he's interested in you," Lucy said gently.
"The emotional barrier is what he's testing now. He wants to be your safe harbour, not your target."
Alicia felt a tear roll down her cheek. "I think I like it, Lucy. And that terrifies me. I'm starting to forget why I'm supposed to be keeping him at arm's length."
"Good," Kristen finally chirped, her tone firm.
"Day Six needs to be about you leaning into that. Forget the protocol, Alicia. Just be the girl in the flowy white dress again."
Alicia hung up, knowing her friends were right. Day Six would either break her emotional walls completely or force her to return to the isolation of her mission.