Chapter One
Jax
I navigated through Friday afternoon traffic, the leather seats still warm from sitting in the sun. I drummed my gold rings against the steering wheel, checking my Rolex for the third time in five minutes.
For anyone else, I wouldn't have bothered showing up until they called, but my family was different. And Avery had me wrapped around her tiny finger from the moment she was born. And today she’d decided she really wanted to see Toffee.
The week had been a blur of training sessions, photoshoots, and forgettable women. Monday's blonde had finally stopped texting after I'd ignored her for forty-eight hours straight.
Tuesday's brunette had proven more persistent, showing up at the gym yesterday in workout gear that left little to the imagination. I'd taken her home, fucked her until she couldn't remember her own name, then sent her packing before the sun rose .
They were the two who had the unfortunate opportunity of meeting each other in my beach house.
It was standard operating procedure. The only deviation from my usual routine had been turning down the leggy model from Wednesday. Something about her eager smile had irritated me, though I couldn't pinpoint why.
I pulled into Seaside Academy's circular drive, cutting off a Mercedes SUV driven by some hedge fund manager type who shot me a glare until he recognized me.
His expression morphed into that familiar mix of awe and resentment I'd grown accustomed to—the look of a man who'd trade his stock portfolio for my life.
I smirked, adjusting my dark sunglasses as I stepped out of the car. I loved them looking, them envying me. I was undefeated in the ring and untouchable outside it, and my reflection in the Bentley's window confirmed that today was no exception.
The security guard at the gate nodded as I approached, his eyes darting to the coiling snake tattoos visible beneath the rolled sleeves of my designer button-down. "Mr. Easton."
I gave him my literal billion-dollar smile. "Rick. How's the son doing? Still pitching?"
His face lit up. "Yes, sir! Made varsity this year. Been showing him those grip techniques you mentioned."
I made a mental note to send the kid some signed gear. Small gestures and immense loyalty, a lesson my father had drilled into me before he'd fucked off with some bikini models around the world.
The marble foyer of Seaside Academy gleamed under crystal chandeliers, the air scented with polish and privilege. A cluster of nannies and parents milled near the main desk, their voices a gentle hum of affluence.
I leaned against a pillar, scrolling through my phone while basking in the not-so-subtle glances from a group of mothers gathered nearby.
One of them, a yoga-toned woman in designer athleisure, kept flipping her hair and laughing too loudly, clearly hoping to catch my attention.
Another day, I might have indulged her, maybe suggested drinks at my beach house after her kid was tucked in. Today, I just wasn't in the mood.
"Jax!"
I looked up to see Avery barreling toward me, her blonde curls bouncing, uniform slightly rumpled as if she'd been in a hurry. I pocketed my phone and crouched down, arms open, as she launched herself at me.
The impact of her tiny body against my chest sent a rush of warmth through me that no amount of ring victories or model conquests could replicate.
I laughed, lifting her into the air and spinning her around. Her giggles echoed off the vaulted ceiling, drawing smiles from even the most stoic-faced staff members.
"How was school?"
"It was the BEST day!" She wiggled in my arms, her blue eyes wide with excitement. "We learned about dinosaurs and Leo knew ALL their names and everyone said I asked really good questions and?—"
"Whoa, slow down," I laughed, setting her down and taking her backpack. "Who's Leo? The dinosaur expert?"
"My FRIEND," she emphasized, as if I should obviously know this crucial information. "He sits next to me at lunch and he has a T-Rex eraser and he lets me borrow it sometimes even though it's his favorite and he's really quiet but really smart and?—"
She paused, inhaling dramatically. "OH! You have to meet him! He's still here! COME!"
Before I could respond, she grabbed my hand, tugging me toward a classroom off the main hallway. I allowed myself to be led, amused by her enthusiasm.
Avery made friends easily, a trait she'd inherited from me rather than her mother, but this Leo kid seemed to have made quite an impression .
The classroom was mostly empty, the end-of-day chaos having subsided. Colorful artwork lined the walls, and tiny chairs were stacked neatly on miniature tables.
A small boy with brown hair sat at a desk in the corner, carefully placing books into a worn backpack. He glanced up as we entered, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of me.
"Leo!" Avery called, skipping toward him. "This is my uncle! The one I told you about! He's a lion !"
The boy—Leo—offered a shy smile, his gaze quickly returning to his backpack. "Hi," he said softly, the word barely audible.
I was about to introduce myself when movement from the other side of the room caught my attention.
My attention that would be kept forever.
She stepped out from behind her desk, arms full of papers, her head bent as she scanned a worksheet.
She was nothing like the women who usually caught my eye; she had no platinum hair or surgically enhanced curves, no designer clothes, and no calculated sex appeal.
She was slender, with honey-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, loose strands framing a face that looked like it had been carved from starlight and exhaustion.
Her features were delicate but sharp—high cheekbones that caught the light, a small nose, lips pressed thinly together in concentration that spoke of someone who'd forgotten what it felt like to relax.
She wore faded jeans and a simple jacket that should have been forgettable, but on her, they transformed into something that made my fingers itch to touch the worn fabric and feel her warmth beneath it.
Her skin was sun-warmed, her body slim and understated, unlike the women who usually draped themselves over me with their silicone and artifice.
There was a quiet strength in how she moved, a kind of deep wariness that made her seem present yet untouchable, like she was here yet not .
She was so fucking beautiful.
She moved with careful grace through the classroom, her steps almost soundless against the alphabet rug.
There was something in the way she carried herself, a readiness, a vigilance, that reminded me of fighters before a match—coiled strength beneath a calm exterior.
But it was her eyes that destroyed me. Large honey-brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes. They were sharp as broken glass and twice as dangerous, holding a depth I'd never seen before, a quiet intelligence mixed with exhaustion so profound it made my chest ache.
When those eyes flicked up and met mine for just a heartbeat, I felt something fundamental shift in my world, like tectonic plates realigning to create a new landscape I didn't recognize.
The world, my world, just... stopped.
The noise faded, the room shrank, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was the one caught staring.
She looked away almost immediately, her expression shuttered, but the damage was done.
My pulse kicked up, something wild, hot, and inexplicable roaring to life in me. I'd seen beautiful women before—hell, I'd had them. All shapes, all colors, all flavors of desperate and eager.
But this was different.
This was a punch to the solar plexus, a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know what made her smile, what made her laugh, what she sounded like when she wasn't carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
I wanted to know why she looked so tired, why her hands were so steady, why she moved like she was barely here.
"Avery," she said, her voice quiet and melodic, with an undercurrent of authority that made my niece immediately straighten her posture. "Indoor voice, remember? "
"Sorry, Ms. Estelle!" Avery stage-whispered, not looking remotely apologetic. "I wanted Jax to meet Leo!"
Ms. Estelle. The name blazed itself across my mind like a brand. I wanted to taste it on my tongue, to see if saying it would somehow bring me closer to understanding this woman who had, in the space of seconds, become the most fascinating thing I'd ever encountered.
She set her papers down and crouched to help the boy with his backpack, her movements gentle but efficient. The way she interacted with him was different from how she'd looked at me.
Protective, maternal.
"That's sweet," she murmured, not even glancing my way.
Her voice was low, a little rough around the edges, like she didn't waste it on small talk. It sent a shiver down my spine.
I'd never seen beauty like this, so unaware of its own power.
I cleared my throat, feeling off-balance for the first time in years, and extended my hand.
"Jax Easton," I said, dialing up the smile that had graced magazine covers and dropped panties across continents. "Avery's uncle."
She straightened slowly, like someone who'd learned not to make sudden movements, and wiped her palms on her jeans before briefly—so briefly I almost missed it—touching her fingers to mine.
"Estelle Moore."
Her hands were slender but strong, nails trimmed and practical, devoid of the flashy manicures that adorned the fingers of women I typically entertained.
Her grip was cool, her touch light, as if she was already halfway gone.
Estelle Moore. The name rolled through my mind, fitting her perfectly. Elegant and timeless, like a fallen star with trust issues.
I waited for the flicker of recognition, the widening of eyes, the subtle shift in body language that always happened when people realized who I was.
But it didn't come.