Jaxon POV
The iron-like grip of my sweaty, blood-stained hockey glove wrapping around her tiny waist and hoisting her straight over the high plexiglass wall was the most calculated risk I had ever taken in my life.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
I saw the camera lenses panning down from the legacy box.
I saw the national sports anchors scrambling to shift their live broadcast feed.
If Dean Cooper and my father wanted proof that Roxy and I were together, I was about to give them a stunt that would blow the roof off this arena.
We needed to sell this fake relationship so completely, so undeniably, that no board trustee in the country could accuse her of taking cash bribes to write my papers.
I reached both hands over the clear partition.
My thick, padded gloves dug firm and deep into the emerald silk at her waist.
“Jaxon—” Roxy gasped, her eyes going wide as saucer plates.
I didn’t answer.
I just bent my knees, gritted my teeth through the white-hot pain throbbing in my skull, and lifted her off her feet in one smooth pull.
She was light—so damn light it made my chest ache—and I hoisted her over the glass wall like a prize, making sure every single angle of the live feed caught us.
A collective, deafening gasp surged through the stadium, followed immediately by a chaotic wave of flashing camera bulbs.
Roxy let out a tiny, breathless cry as her feet cleared the wall.
The moment her small, heels shoes hit the slick, frozen surface of the ice, she lost her balance completely, her feet slipping uselessly over the clear floor.
I caught her before she could fall.
I dragged her flush against my chest, locking my right arm around her waist like a band.
Her small, warm hands shot out instinctively, her fingers clawing into the thick padding of my shoulders to keep herself upright.
Her delicate body was trembling hard against mine—a tiny, fragile flame pressed against my bloody armor.
She smelled like sweet vanilla, ice, and the copper scent of the blood dripping from my jaw.
Keep playing the part, I told myself, forcing my pulse to steady.
Make it look real for the cameras.
“I’ve got you,” I rasped, my breath coming in short gasps against her forehead.
“I’ve got you, Tutor. I’m not letting you fall.”
“Jaxon, what are you doing?” she whispered hurriedly, her dark eyes wild with shock as she searched my face.
“Let them watch,” I growled, keeping my voice low and vicious, making sure my body language screamed devotion for the national press.
“Let the whole damn world look at us.”
The national reporters swarmed the edge of the boards like starved dogs, shoving microphones past the gate.
Flashes went off in a quick shot.
I could hear the arena announcer stuttering over the PA system, completely losing his mind over the stunt I was pulling.
Behind us, my father was still standing on the red carpet near the tunnel.
I didn’t need to look at him to know what his face looked like right now.
His carefully staged family photo with Cassandra was completely ruined.
The corporate narrative was dead on the floor.
On live television, broadcast to millions of households across the country, Richard Montgomery’s prized prospect had snubbed his billionaire father and high-society legacy to pull his scholarship tutor onto the ice.
It was the perfect move.
The ultimate weapon to protect my spot on the team and shut down Cassandra’s lies.
Roxy’s fingers tightened on my black jersey, her nails digging into the cloth over my chest.
She was panting, her skin flushed bright red against the deep green of her dress.
“Your cheek is bleeding, Jaxon,” she murmured softly, her fingers leaving my shoulder to gently hover near my cut jaw.
She didn’t touch the wound, but the sound of worry in her voice hit me harder than the hockey stick that had cracked my skull.
“You need a doctor. You’re bleeding all over your shirt.”
“It’s just skin,” I muttered, leaning down until my nose almost brushed hers.
I had to keep her close.
I had to make every person in here believe I was obsessed with her.
“You think I care about a little blood after seeing my father sitting beside you in the box?”
“Jaxon…”
“Did you hear me out there?” I demanded out loud, my hand sliding down to the curve of her hip, holding her so tight against my pads that there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.
“When I hit that goalpost, when my head was ringing so loud I couldn’t see straight… I only looked at one place. I only played for one person in this entire building.”
Her lips parted slightly, her dark eyes filling with fresh tears that sparkled under the arena lights.
She didn’t pull away.
She didn’t try to hide behind her stubborn, independent walls anymore.
“I saw you,” she whispered, her voice trembling so softly I had to read her lips to hear it. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
“I saw you, Jaxon.”
A strange warmth flared in my chest as her small body pressed softer against mine—a dangerous, electric pull that made my breath catch.
I shoved the feeling down instantly, refusing to pay attention to it.
It was just adrenaline from the game.
It was just the rush of winning and pulling off the ultimate stunt.
Nothing more.
I turned my focus back to the real target.
Slowly, deliberately, I turned my head away from the reporters and lifted my gaze toward the luxury box hanging over the ice.
Behind the thick, tinted glass, Dean Cooper was frozen like a statue, his golden pen hanging uselessly in his hand.
Cassandra Belmont stood beside him, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, her face twisted in pure disgust.
And right in the center stood my father.
Richard’s grey eyes were cold enough to freeze hell over.
He wasn’t smiling.
The billionaire facade was gone, replaced by the tyrannical dictator who had spent twenty years trying to control my life.
He stared down at me, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscles throb from fifty feet away.
He was waiting for me to break.
He was waiting for me to yield.
I didn’t flinch.
I tightened my grip on Roxy’s waist, pulling her even closer into my side, using her as the ultimate weapon against him.
I held my father’s gaze through the glass, letting him see every ounce of the hatred burning in my chest.
You don’t control me anymore, I thought, my blood still dripping onto the white ice below us.
And you sure as hell don’t get to touch her.
Thank you so much for reading this far!
Chapter 20 is where the real drama kicks off—Jaxon and Roxy’s story is just getting started.
If you’re enjoying the ride, unlock the next chapter to see what happens next!