The air inside the locked VIP executive suite grew thick, heavy with an suffocating heat that made every single breath feel deliberate.
Roxie remained pressed tightly against Jaxon, her body tense and trembling. Her hot breath hit the sensitive skin of his neck in short, unsteady hitches.
"I’ve dealt with plenty of rich bastards in this damn league, Jax," she whispered, her voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that barely carried across the dark room. "None of them throw around millions just to pull a benched track girl out of a predatory trap. Nobody does that without wanting something in return."
Jaxon didn’t shift back an inch. He looked down at her, his expression entirely unbothered, his dark eyes cool and calculating.
Roxie Sterling.
His mind flicked back to his authorial notes. In the original manuscript of The Golden Court, this precise conversation was slated to occur in a filthy back-hallway storage room after the Vance family systematically crushed her athletic standing. In that script, she was supposed to break down completely, ruined by legal debts before being forced into Garrison’s hands like a broken trophy.
What a fucking waste of potential, Jaxon thought, a quiet, cynical smirk touching his lips. I wrote that pathetic tragedy years ago. But I own the stadium now. I bought out the contract. I rewrite the outcome.
"I don’t waste cash on garbage, Roxie," Jaxon said, his voice deep, measured, and echoing with absolute authority. "I only secure what belongs to me."
Roxie’s eyes widened at the bluntness of his tone. Her chest rose and fell sharply against his, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
STEP.
Jaxon took a half-step forward, eliminating whatever faint space remained between them.
HITCH!
A sharp gasp escaped Roxie’s throat as her body slammed flush against his solid chest. Her firm, heavy breasts pressed directly into his torso, the tight fabric of her jacket straining under the impact. The faint scent of sweet vanilla and warm skin filled the narrow gap between them.
She felt soft against his rigid frame. Her narrow waist seemed to give way under his firm grip as his large hand held her anchored right where he wanted her.
BZZZZT!
The invisible neon-blue windows hovering in his vision bled into an intense, blood-red hue, flashing rapidly across his eyes.
[Target Affection: 85%]
[Physical Proximity: Critical Threshold Reached!]
[Warning: R-18 Synergy Unlock Imminent!]
[The Constellation ’Asmodeus of the Deep Desires’ is watching intently!]
"Jax..." Roxie breathed out, a heavy flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.
Her short silver undercut caught the faint blue glow from the silent security monitors on the desk, framing the sharp angles of her face. Her striking violet eyes locked onto his, entirely stripped of her usual guarded, cynical defense mechanisms. She was caught completely off-balance, breathless and visibly unsettled by the sheer weight of his presence.
Jaxon’s hand shifted slowly from the small of her back, sliding lower over the curve of her hip and gripping her firm ass to pull her frame tightly against his with steady confidence.
"You’re not going back to Garrison’s pathetic syndicate, and you’re not running on anyone else’s terms," Jaxon murmured, his thumb applying firm pressure against her hipbone through the tight material of her gear. "You belong to this facility now. You answer to me."
"Then say it properly, damn it," she whispered, her hands reaching up to clutch the front of his dark, fitted top, her knuckles turning pale as she pulled herself closer. "Don’t hide behind business talk, Jax. Tell me."
Jaxon didn’t bother answering with words.
His free hand rose slowly, his fingers brushing against the cool metallic tab of her jacket zipper resting just below her throat.
ZIP...
With a smooth, deliberate motion, he pulled the zipper down several inches, exposing the soft, flushed skin rising above her breasts as her breathing grew heavier.
CLICK.
At that exact second, the automated power-saving protocol of the VIP suite kicked in. The primary overhead lights cut out, plunging the luxurious executive room into a deep, heavy shadow illuminated only by the faint red glow of the emergency panel.
Roxie’s breath hitched sharply in the sudden dimness as Jaxon’s grip on her tight hip tightened, his face inches from hers in the quiet room.