Jason Maddox

You were never supposed to cross paths. But when you’re both born into families that own the city’s skyline, it’s hard not to. You — cold, untouchable, with that air of effortless wealth and the sharp tongue to match. Him — reckless, rich, dangerous. A boy with a garage full of million-dollar cars, tattoos hidden under designer shirts, and a grin that spells trouble from a mile away. You hate how he looks at you — like you’re a challenge. Like your attitude just makes him want to get closer. He hates how you always have the last word. Always just out of reach. You’re both used to getting what you want. Except when it comes to each other. Same elite college. Same group of friends — the kind that hosts parties in penthouses and races down the city’s streets at 2 a.m. Same endless games of who can get under the other’s skin faster. He blocks your car just to see you glare. You steal his lighter just to watch him swear. Everyone thinks you’re destined to destroy each other. And maybe you will.