AN
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“Bethany, stop encouraging him,” Sophia sighed, though the edge was entirely gone from her tone. She reached over, snagged a paper napkin from the dispenser, and smoothed it across her lap. Reaching under the wrought-iron tabletop, her hand darted across the narrow gap to possessively wrap around my wrist.
Her fingers were firm, cool, and undeniably territorial. The sudden reaction caught even her off guard; sitting directly opposite me, her eyes widened slightly as the realization hit, but she stubbornly refused to let go.
I looked across at her, feeling that sudden, delicious flutter of boyish pride in my chest. Untouchable ice princess, my ass.
With my free hand, I used a fork to spear a chicken wing whole and popped it into my mouth.
Beside me, Edward blinked in alarm. “Erm, Jason... they have bones in them.”
I chewed casually, working my jaw while Edward watched in horror. Reaching up with two fingers, I cleanly pulled out two stripped twin bones and dropped them into the empty bowl with a light clink. “Look—no spicy grease on my fingers.” I set the fork down and picked up a slice of pizza.
Edward gave me a thoroughly skeptical side-eye.
“I’m holding it by the crust, it’s completely—”
Before I could finish my excuse, the ambient chatter of the mezzanine took a sharp, frosty dip.
The rhythmic, synchronized tap-tap of high designer loafers hit the marble tiles with loud, swaggering poise.
Edward froze. His breath hitched in a sharp, fragile gasp, every drop of color draining from his face. He ducked his head instantly, tucking his chin toward his chest and shrinking into his lilac collar, frantically pulling his hands off the table into his lap.
Across from me, Sophia’s grip on my wrist tightened until her nails bit lightly into my skin. Beside her, Bethany set her champagne glass down with a dull, irritated clink, her easygoing lad demeanor hardening into pure, aristocratic disgust.
“Oh, brilliant,” Bethany muttered under her breath, glaring toward the walkway. “The athletic clique has arrived.”
I glanced over my shoulder.
Striding toward our section was an entire entourage that radiated high-school hierarchy. Leading the pack were three girls dressed in sleek, tailored St. Jude’s varsity blazers cut to showcase long, athletic lines. In this world, the national sport wasn't a brutal collision game like rugby or American football; it prioritized speed, acrobatic agility, and kinetic martial finesse. The girls weren't hulking or bulky—they were tall, whip-lean, and sinewy, with narrow waists, lithe posture, and that effortless, coiled grace shared by Jodie and Sophia.
Hanging off their arms, trailing half a step behind, were their boys.
The aesthetic was unmistakable: the varsity athletes and their male cheerleaders. The boys wore cropped pastel cardigans, silk trousers, and gossamer scarves draped like accessories, giggling behind manicured fingers, tossing their styled hair, and preening under the protective wings of their athletic girlfriends.
The friction between the two groups was instant and old. Sophia and Bethany belonged to the ancient, untouchable old-money peerage—the legacy dynasties that owned the banks and estates. Victoria and her cohort represented the school's rising star power: the elite athletics division, national tournament darlings whose parents sponsored modern academies and dominated high-society sport circuits. New physical prestige constantly pushing against old-blood entitlement.
The girl leading the pack was striking.
She stood easily six feet tall, with honey-blonde hair pulled into a high, severe ponytail, a clean jawline, and a whipcord-lean frame that moved with the fluid, calculated precision of an elite fencer. Victoria Sterling—captain of St. Jude's premiere athletic squad.
Even at six feet, she was built on the sleek, willowy blueprint of this world’s athletic women. She linked fit and lithe, and I was starting to imagine running my hands up and down her waist, feeling all the contrasting softness and tautness.
Yet my mind was pulled away as I noticed something tucked snugly against Victoria’s side, his arm linked through hers with venomous confidence, was a slender boy with perfectly feathered sandy-brown hair. He wore a sheer cream silk blouse with high ruffled cuffs, a diamond choker hugging his throat, and high-waisted designer cigarette pants that showed off legs thin enough to snap like kindling.
Something about his face set off a siren in my brain.
I knew that nose. I knew the slope of that jawline and the smug, tilted sneer. But my brain was misfiring violently, totally unable to compute what it was seeing.
The clique came to a halt right at the edge of our table, cutting off the walkway.
“Well, well,” Victoria said, offering a slow, patronizing smirk as she hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her varsity blazer. Her posture was coiled, upright, and brimming with the arrogant swagger of an elite competitor who thought old-blood titles meant nothing once you stepped onto a court. “Sophia Evergreen. Dining out in the open mezzanine on street bread. Did House Evergreen take a hit on the trading floor, or did you just run out of allowance?”
Sophia leaned back slightly, her shoulders loosening into an easy, fluid poise that radiated lethal confidence. She didn't look like a nervous aristocrat clutching her pearls; she looked like someone weighing how many seconds it would take to put Victoria through the nearest marble balustrade.
“My allowance is doing just fine, Victoria,” Sophia drawled, her tone dripping with bored superiority. “Though I suppose when your entire family's relevance relies on chasing a rubber ball across turf, you have to find your excitement where you can.”
“Careful, Evergreen,” Victoria countered, her smirk sharpening. “Form and legacy don't mean much when you’re flat on your back.”
“Try me anytime,” Sophia murmured, lifting her chin with a cold, mocking challenge.
Beside her, Bethany let out a dry scoff, crossing one leg over the other. “Please. Heard you choked during the district finals last spring, Sterling.”
“That was a bad referee call and you know it, Harper,” the girl standing behind Victoria snapped back, the athletic duo instantly squaring up to defend their captain's honor.
“Maybe, didn’t bother watching.” Bethany Shrugged. The familiar looking parasite stepped forwards next. Trying something as he sneered down at the boys' side of the table. Backed by his varsity squad, he held his head high, clearly relishing the role of the apex social queen.
His eyes landed squarely on Edward, his lip curling with theatrical disgust.
“And look at this tragedy,” the parasite purred, sending a disgusting shiver up my spine, as he tossed his sandy-brown hair with a sharp flick of his chin. His lackeys behind him snickered into their silk sleeves right on cue. “Edward, honey, who dressed you today? That lilac is completely washing you out. It screams nouveau riche desperation. Did Bethany pick that off a bargain rack so you wouldn't outshine her?”
Edward shrank, ducking his head and clutching his napkin tightly against his lap, unable to find his voice.
Emboldened by Edward's silence, the parasite’s venomous gaze pivoted toward me.
“And Henderson,” The parasite sneered, his voice pitching higher to command the audience. “What is this pathetic display? Parading around in a plain cotton gym rag like an unwashed commoner? You look like you belong in the locker room laundry pile, drooling over a tray of melted grease. Truly, Catherine must be growing desperate if she’s letting her little sick-ward pet out without a leash—”
The parasite’s voice trailed off.
The insult hung in the air, landing with a dull thud. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Edward looked terrified. Across the table, Sophia and Bethany were locked in a silent standoff with Victoria's crew, waiting for… something. I was too focused trying to place him.
I just sat there, chewing on my pizza, staring dead into the parasite's face with intense, unbroken concentration. My jaw worked in a slow, rhythmic chew, my brow deeply furrowed as if I were staring at an impossible math equation written across his forehead.
I noticed Victoria’s gaze sweeping down my frame with slow, unhurried, predatory curiosity. She took in the dense width of my shoulders, the thick cords in my neck, and the way the white tee stretched taut across a chest built with far more raw, heavy mass than the willowy athletes in her circle. Her tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip, an appreciative, lecherous smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth that openly promised she wouldn't mind seeing what all that muscle could do.
The Parasite, oblivious to his girlfriend’s wandering eye, grew visibly agitated by the lack of reaction. The absolute silence dragged from tense to agonizingly awkward.
Sophia gave my shoe a light kick beneath the table. “Jason. You ok?”
I blinked, finally snapping out of the trance. I chewed, swallowed, and casually set the pizza crust down onto the wax paper, looking around the table as if noticing the audience for the first time.
“Sorry,” I said, picking up another pizza slice. “I wasn't paying attention.” I ripped off another bite and swallowed. “Something’s been really bothering me, though.”
The Parasite puffed out his narrow chest, stamping his designer loafer against the tiles with petulant fury. “What is your problem?! You’ve been staring at me like a total freak since we walked over here!”
I tilted my head, looking him up and down one more time—the cropped silk blouse, the delicate choker, the fluttering cuffs, the petulant mean-girl scowl.
“Who are you?” I asked plainly.
The question hit the clique like a bucket of ice water.
The parasite’s mouth dropped open in absolute outrage. The two cheerleader boys behind him gasped into their scarves, scandalized, while Victoria arched an intrigued eyebrow, clearly enjoying seeing her pampered date completely derailed.
Beside me, Edward frantically leaned in, his voice a panicked, breathy whisper. “Jason, That’s... That’s Trevor Smith! You know him!”
I froze. Then turned around to face Edward, to double check. “You sure? That scrawny little bitch is your world’s Trever Smith?”
Trevor lifted his chin, his cheeks burning with spiteful indignation. “You! Of course I am, you idiot!”
I looked back at Trevor, taking in his skinny short frame.
A snort broke from my chest.
Then a sharp, breathless wheeze.
Before anyone could say another word, I threw my head back and burst into full, roaring, helpless laughter.
I laughed so hard my shoulders shook, slapping a heavy palm against the marble table with a loud crack that rattled the cutlery and sent a champagne glass wobbling on its stem. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I clutched my stomach, pointing right at his face, completely overwhelmed by the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of it all.
“Sorry, sorry, I just don’t remember you looking like a little twiglet that would snap from a random breeze.”
Gasps were heard all around, while Beth entered a coughing laugh.
“You bastard.” Trevor tried to charge me. His hands… ready to claw me?
I blew air into his face, causing him to break his charge. Trevor tried covering his face as he took a step back. “Wow, I thought I was exaggerating about the random breeze.”
A chorus of scandalized gasps went up from Trevor’s lackeys, while Bethany buried her face in her cloth napkin, muffling another loud snort. Sophia sat there, grinning at Trevor.
Humiliation flooded Trevor’s face, turning him incandescent. Seeing his physical swipe mocked, he pivoted with pure venom toward Sophia, aiming straight for the jugular.
“You’re pathetic, Evergreen! You strut around St. Jude's like you're above everyone, but any boy who marries into your estate is doomed to a miserable, icy hell. You couldn't warm a hearth if your life depended on it—you’re dragging him to your household because no boy with any self-respect would ever willingly–”
I shot to my feet.
The wrought-iron chair screeched violently across the marble tiles as my full frame uncapped. I wasn't seeing red; I was completely composed, my jaw set as I stepped around the table with heavy, deliberate intent.
Seeing the sheer wall of mass bearing down on her fiancé, Victoria reacted on pure reflex, stepping directly into my path to cut me off. Behind her, her varsity goons surged forward to back her up, only for Sophia and Bethany to square them up.
“Keep my girl’s name out your mouth, you dirty little mutt.” I called out over Victoria’s shoulder, I didn't acknowledge Victoria in front of me at all. I kept my eyes locked dead onto Trevor, holding him in a flat, unblinking glare as I walked straight forward.
Victoria braced to hold the line, but as I closed the distance, her posture faltered. My shoulders completely blotted out the light above her, my dense chest crowding into her face. The sheer physical presence was impossible to ignore.
She took an instinctive step back.
I took another step forward, eyes never leaving Trevor.
“Got a lot to bark when you’re hiding behind a girl, don't you, Twiglet?” I said, my voice low, carrying effortless weight.
Victoria took another hurried, off-balance step back, trying to keep herself between us while looking up at me in stunned disbelief—until the small of her back slammed hard into the empty table behind her, trapping her against the iron edge.
A smug grin returned to Trevor’s face as he leaned close to Victoria’s shoulder. “You really think flexing those muscles frightens anyone, Jason? You’re nothing but an uncouth, feral pet. And Sophia—parading around a crude, aggressive boy simply because no cultured heir in the city would ever consent to be seen with you. Enjoy your little brute while it lasts, darling; St. Jude’s will mock you both out of the courtyard come Monday.”
I held my ground. Instead, a wicked, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Ignoring Trevor entirely, I turned my attention to the athletic team captain positioned between us. I took another heavy, calculated step, closing the distance until my chest nearly brushed against Victoria’s.
Victoria’s breath hitched, her rear pressed firm against the cold stone table. Almost forced to sit upon it.
Before she could react, I slammed both hands down—not on her, but flat against the polished marble on either side of her waist, trapping her between my arms and the counter. The iron frame groaned under the sudden force.
The whole second-floor dining area fell dead silent.
Victoria froze in place. Her chin tilted upward, her dark eyes wide and fixed on mine. At this distance, the confident athlete facade she projected began to crumble under the radiating warmth of my chest. She had spent the last five minutes appraising me like a high-ticket prize, tossing out flirtatious smirks as if she controlled the room. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Now, the prize had cornered her, leaving her completely unsure of how to respond.
I leaned down slightly, bringing my face inches from hers. Her eyes flicked rapidly between my gaze and my lips, her mouth parting as a sudden, flustered flush trickled down her neck, painting her skin a vibrant red.
“You’ve been checking out my body since the moment you walked over, Sterling,” I murmured, my voice dropping into a low, deep rumble that carried straight through the quiet air.
Victoria swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling heavily beneath her varsity jacket. Her hands, usually so composed, twitched against her legs as if torn between pushing me away or pulling me closer. The tough team-captain persona completely shattered, replaced by pure, breathless excitement.
I tilted my head, casting a cold, mocking glance over my shoulder at the petrified boy behind her.
“Tell your little lapdog to hold his tongue,” I said loudly enough for every surrounding table to hear. “Because if he continues to think that your presence gives him the confidence to yap, I might just take you for a ride—and leave him with the painful realization that every time you look at him, you are left thinking about the disappointing reality that he is not me.”
Trevor went completely pale.
He stared at his betrothed, waiting for a sharp, aggressive response—expecting Victoria to shove me back, summon the guards, or strike me.
Nothing happened.
Victoria just stood there, pinned against the edge by my sheer presence, totally captivated. Her eyes looked glazed with a dazed, aroused thrill, her pride surrendering to the natural pull of a man who effortlessly commanded the room.
Trevor’s mouth opened and closed in silent, mortified shock. The security he had relied upon to protect his status had completely dissolved right before his eyes.
Behind me, a sharp, possessive call broke through the quiet.
“Jason.”
Sophia stepped forward, her voice laced with an icy, warning edge that promised serious words later. But right in front of the St. Jude’s crowd, the point had already been made.
Behind me, the heavy, measured crunch of boots brought the whole confrontation to a sudden halt.
“Alright, big guy. Ease up.”
Jodie’s dry, amused voice cut right through the charged silence of the terrace. She strolled right into the clearing between our tables, hands tucked nonchalantly into her pockets, looking between my locked-out arms and Victoria’s glowing red face. A cheeky, knowing grin formed on the corner of mom’s lips as she tilted her head back.
“Let the poor girl catch her breath, Jason,” Jodie teased with a quiet chuckle, sounding less like a guard breaking up a fight and more like an older sister telling an energetic pup to stop wrestling the cat. “Look at her, she’s practically glued to the table.”
The sheer, casual dismissal of Jodie’s comment hit Victoria like a splash of freezing water. Let the poor girl catch her breath. The captain of St. Jude’s varsity team had just been treated like a delicate little maiden who needed a chaperone to pull a guy off her.
I held Victoria’s dilated, breathy gaze for one last, deliberate second, letting the heat between us linger just long enough to feel her pulse quicken in her neck. Then, with a slow, easy shrug, I leaned back off the table and took a step away.
The spell snapped.
Victoria let out a shaky breath, her legs looking a little weak beneath her as she scrambled to regain her footing. The tough athlete persona had completely melted away; her face was bright crimson, her varsity jacket crooked, and her hands fumbled nervously as she tried to fix her lapels, totally unable to meet the eyes of the whispering crowd.
Behind her, Trevor looked completely ill. The gossip would be all over the district by tonight: Trevor Smith’s prized, untouchable girlfriend had been backed into a corner like a frightened kitten by the Henderson shut-in, and needed a bodyguard’s pity to get saved.
“Move along, Sterling,” Bethany called out, leaning back against the booth with her champagne glass lifted in a mocking salute, her grin full of pure entertainment. “Before your cheerleader starts sobbing into his silk scarf. Honestly, ten out of ten. Best lunch show I’ve seen all term.”
Victoria didn't say a word. She couldn't. With her pride shredded, she turned on her heel and marched stiffly down the corridor, cutting straight through the staring onlookers. Trevor cast one last frantic, embarrassed glare at us before scurrying behind her like a beaten dog, his soft cuffs fluttering frantically in his wake. The rest of their group followed right behind them in a stunned, quiet silence.
A muted hush settled over the open terrace, conversation returning in a low, buzzing hum.
I lowered myself into the chair, though my heart was still pounding violently. Backing that flustered girl into the hard stone table had set off an intense, dangerous spark inside me. The sheer rush of adrenaline mixed with rising hormones left a heavy, aching pulse deep in my groin. A freezing shower was sounding less like a joke and more like an absolute necessity to regain control.
Then the aroma washed over me.
I knew what it was, in fact the back of my mind knew what that smell had been all afternoon, but I just forgot to put two and two together. The intoxicating, heady scent of a woman in this world fully aroused and chemically primed. My senses seized onto it immediately, kindling an overwhelming instinct that left my mouth bone dry. I understood precisely what that physical response signified, and worse, my own surging body recognized that it needed an outlet to satisfy it.
I raised my head.
Sophia hadn't taken her seat.
She stood motionless, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her dark eyes flashing with pure territorial heat. Yet beneath that icy exterior, her pupils were broad and dark. Her gaze trailed down the broad contours of my chest, practically itching to leave a mark, desperate to stake her claim over what was hers.
My gaze darkened, tracing the sleek curve of her thighs. The tension from our confrontation hadn't faded; it had simply found a new focus.
“Bethany,” Sophia called out, her tone tight and clipped as she eyed our empty dishes. “We’re getting the check.”
Beth blinked in surprise. “Now? We haven't even had coffee yet.”
“Jason has a prior commitment,” Sophia interrupted, her gaze locking back onto mine, heavy with demand. “A fitting for his new uniforms. We can't keep them waiting.”
I stood up, towering over the table. The way her eyes lingered on my physique sent my blood straight to a boil.
“Right,” I murmured, my voice deep and husky. “The fitting. Let's make sure we aren't late.”
Beth’s lips twitched into a cheeky, knowing grin. “Right. Wouldn't want to hold up any urgent measuring.”
Sophia was already snatching up her handbag, her heels clicking sharply as she made a beeline for the private elevators. I fell into step right behind her, watching the roll of her hips, both of us fully aware that whatever was about to happen in the back of the car wasn't waiting until we got back to the estate.