Page 152 of Undisputed Player
Estelle loved teaching but never fit among the trophy wives and trust-fund parents. She’d taken the job for Leo, for the scholarship, not for the perks it offered her.
She deserved more. Kids who needed her, kids who would benefit from the opportunity if someone gave them the chance.
I sent my princess a text before driving off:
Jax
Meet me at the attached address. Wear comfortable clothes for me.
A few minutes passed before she responded, probably just waking up. I could have checked the cams, but I didn’t feel like getting hard in the academy parking lot.
Estelle
Why?
Jax
You’ll see.
Estelle
I don’t want to.
Jax
It’s worth it, princess.
It was just cryptic enough to make her complain, and just irresistible enough to get her up and out the door.
She beat me there, of course.
I saw her dark green Bentley first, washed in pearled sunlight beside the curb, wheels turned out like it knew it was the most beautiful thing on this tired street.
She sat behind the wheel, sipping something from a fancy coffee shop—her city treat, probably the iced coffee she’d fallen in love with.
My princess was thoroughly spoiled rotten.
And I couldn’t stop grinning. This car was her armor now, built for legends, but the woman inside was all sleepy lips and honey eyes, her hair tucked behind one ear as she scrolled through her phone.
A princess passing the time before her audience.
I’d taught her how to drive myself. Obviously, she was the onlyperson on this Earth allowed to scratch my Bentley—but she didn’t. Estelle was meticulous with everything she tried, and she passed the driving test with flying colors.
The car was waiting for her at home when she got her license. She’d acted surprised, but there was no way my princess truly didn’t anticipate this simple of a gift for passing her driver’s exam.
I parked behind her, stepping out with the calm of a man who owned the block, which, after last week, I most certainly did.
I slowed, letting my shadow fall over her window, watching her gaze flicker up and soften. She lowered the cup, her mouth quirking in that perfect, patronizing princess curl.
I made a show of tapping her window. She lowered it, and I leaned in with my forearms braced along the edge, body angled just right so the morning poured between us.
The movement drew out every line of me—broad frame crowding the window, lips perpetually curved in a smirk, my sunglasses skewed on purpose. She arched an eyebrow, practically daring me.
“Morning, princess. Look at you, up early for once,” I drawled, dropping my sunglasses to hang off my shirt collar. “Got enough caffeine to keep the city awake in there?”
She sipped, glancing out the other window at the old building we were in front of, before turning back with all attitude. “You woke me up early for a murder-house date?”
Smirking, I reached in and swiped her coffee in one easy motion. I held her gaze and took a long, unhurried sip. The coffee was some chocolatey, decadent thing, and I made a show of savoring it, humming with pleasure.
