Jaxon POV
The click of my sports car’s automatic door locking her into a world she didn’t belong in echoed through the leather-scented cabin.
Roxy stiffened in the passenger seat.
She sat straight as a board, her small hands balled into tight, white-knuckled fists over the faded denim of her jeans.
She stared out the tinted window, deliberately ignoring the slick dashboard, the carbon-fiber trim, and the rumbling growl of the custom engine underneath us.
I hit the gas, pulling out of the campus parking lot and throwing the car onto the open highway toward the high-end shopping district of North Ridge.
The silence between us was heavy, suffocating, and thick with unresolved tension.
The dark stain from the spilled coffee was still visible on her black hoodie, an ugly reminder of the dirt my father’s sheep were throwing at her.
Every time I looked at that stain, my grip on the leather steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned bloodless white.
“Where are you taking me, Jaxon?” Roxy demanded, her voice sharp enough to slice through the low purr of the engine.
She finally turned her head to glare at me, her dark eyes flashing with defensive fire.
“I have a lecture in twenty minutes. I don’t have time for your unannounced field trips.”
“You’re skipping class,” I replied smoothly, not taking my eyes off the road.
“We have a dress fitting.”
Roxy let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.
“A dress fitting? Are you out of your mind? My life is currently crumbling into cinders. My mother’s face is on a trashy gossip blog, Chad threw hot coffee on my chest, and you want to go shopping?”
“The athletic board is hosting an exclusive gala at the Grand Sovereign Center tonight,” I said, my tone flat and uncompromising.
“Every donor, every university trustee, and every major news network in the state will be in that room. My father is giving the keynote speech.”
Roxy’s breath hitched in her throat.
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“You’re coming with me,” I said, slanting a cold, sideways glance at her.
“As my date.”
“No,” she spat immediately, shaking her head.
“No way in hell, Jaxon. I am not putting on a costume so you can parade me around your father’s rich, fake friends like a shiny new toy!”
“It isn’t a costume, Brooks. It’s armor,” I growled, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble.
“My father released those photos of your house to break you. He wants you terrified. He wants you hiding in your dorm room like a scared rabbit so the board can strip your scholarship without a fight. If you don’t show up tonight, he wins.”
“And if I do show up, you win!” Roxy snapped back, her voice breaking with raw, agonizing frustration.
“That’s what this entire thing is to you, isn’t it? A game! You’re using me as a human wrecking ball to smash your father’s ego! You pulled me onto the ice, you kissed me in front of national television, and you didn’t care for a single second about the fallout landing directly on my head!”
The words hit me right in the center of my chest, sharp and stinging like an open blade.
I yanked the steering wheel to the right, pulling the sports car into the private alley behind the most expensive, exclusive designer boutique in the city.
I slammed the shifter into park and killed the engine.
I turned in my seat, looming over her in the cramped space, my stormy grey eyes locking onto hers.
“You think I don’t care?” I demanded, my breath hot against her cheek.
“I almost snapped Chad’s neck in that hallway today because he touched you! You think I enjoy watching those bastards drag your name through the mud?”
“Then let me go!” she pleaded, her dark eyes shiny with unspilled tears, her pride bleeding through every word.
“Let me fight Dean Cooper on my own! I don’t need a rich knight in shining armor pretending to care about a scholarship girl from Ashenvale!”
“You can’t fight them alone, Roxy!” I roared, my hands slamming against the leather steering wheel.
“My father owns the Dean! He owns the athletic board! The second you walk into that hearing by yourself, they will shred you to pieces and throw you out on the street! The only reason you still have a desk in that library today is because my hand is locked around your waist!”
Roxy flinched as if I had struck her.
She drew back, her jaw trembling slightly, her chest heaving under her wet hoodie.
The silence returned, longer and far more painful this time.
“Get out of the car,” I said quietly, my voice dropping into a stern, flat line.
I stepped out of the vehicle, slamming my door shut, and walked around to open hers.
Roxy didn’t move for three long seconds.
Then, holding her chin up with every ounce of stubborn dignity she had left, she stepped out onto the polished pavement.
I led her through the back entrance of the boutique.
The private floor was instantly cleared for us.
Two personal stylists in tailored black suits bowed politely, holding back silver trays of champagne that neither of us touched.
“Mr. Montgomery,” the lead stylist murmured deferentially.
“We received your private order twenty minutes ago.”
“Bring it out,” I commanded.
The stylist disappeared behind a velvet curtain and returned holding a long, garment bag.
He unzipped it with practiced, revealing a jaw-dropping, custom sapphire silk gown.
It was deep, dark blue, crafted from heavy liquid silk that caught the light like deep ocean water.
The front was sleek and elegant, but the back was cut down to the base of the spine—a breathtaking, dangerous piece of art that cost more than her family’s car back in Ashenvale.
“Change,” I told her, pointing toward the marble fitting room.
“Jaxon, this dress… I can’t wear this,” she whispered, her voice stripped of its anger, replaced by a rare, vulnerable hesitation.
“It’s too much. I don’t belong in something like this.”
“Put it on, Brooks,” I said softly, my eyes softening as I looked down at her pale, fierce face.
“Let them see exactly who they’re trying to destroy.”
Ten minutes later, the curtain pulled back.
My heart stopped in my chest.
Roxy stepped out onto the raised pedestal.
The sapphire silk draped over her body like a second skin, clinging to her small waist and flowing down to her feet in seamless, liquid elegance.
Her bare shoulders were pale and soft, her dark hair pinned up in a loose, stunning arrangement that exposed the delicate curve of her neck and her bare back.
She looked regal, striking, and so beautiful it hurt to breathe.
She looked up at me, biting her lower lip nervously.
“Is it… too much?”
I walked slowly toward her, my leather boots clicking against the floor.
I stopped right in front of her, reaching out with one hand to gently trace the bare skin of her shoulder.
A sharp shiver ran down her spine, her dark eyes locking onto mine caught in my pull.
“You look like a queen, Tutor,” I rasped, my voice thick and low.
“Tonight, we make them believe . Tonight, we take everything from them.”
An hour later, the sports car purred down the long, winding driveway of the Grand Sovereign Center.
The sprawling, gated center sat on top of a dark hill, glowing like a fortress of gold and silver light under the night sky.
Hundreds of luxury vehicles lined the cobblestone drive, and the bass from an orchestra echoed through the manicured gardens.
As we rounded the final curve toward the grand double doors, a sudden, blinding wall of white light exploded through our windshield.
Dozens of paparazzi, national news reporters, and photographers who had been waiting outside the gates surged toward my car like a pack of hungry wolves.
Their camera lenses smashed against the glass, flashbulbs popping in a chaotic, deafening sound that lit up the dark interior of the vehicle like lightning.
Beside me, Roxy let out a small, terrified gasp, her hand instinctively flying to her chest.
I didn’t hesitate.
I reached across the center console, my large, warm hand wrapping tightly around her cold, trembling fingers, locking our hands together over the leather seat.
“Don’t look at them,” I commanded, my eyes fixed straight ahead on the grand center doors where my father was.
“Look at me. We step out together.”