Chapter 9

Jax’s Pov

I tell my driver to take the morning off, because today I am driving Maya to university by myself. A few minutes later, the passenger door opens, and Maya climbs in. She slams the door shut with a little more force than necessary, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She is wearing a sharp dark blazer and jeans, looking every bit like a fighter who is ready for a war she never asked to join.

I put the car in gear and pull away from the estate, leaving the tall gates behind us.

"Where is the driver?" Maya asks, breaking the silence after a few blocks. She turns her head to look at me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You usually have someone else drive you around like a king. Why are you behind the wheel today?"

I keep my eyes on the road, gripping the steering wheel as we merge onto the highway. "I wanted to see if you can survive one uninterrupted conversation with me without threatening to jump out of a moving vehicle," I say smoothly, a small smirk playing on the corner of my lips.

Maya lets out a sharp, dry laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, do not flatter yourself. I can survive anything. But I would rather sit in silence than talk to a Worth."

"Try me," I challenge, glancing sideways at her for a split second. "Talk to me."

For a few miles, neither of us says a word. The city blur passes outside the tinted windows. But Maya has too much energy, too much fire in her, to stay quiet for long. 

Her eyes catch on the screen, and I see her brow furrow. She leans closer, studying the lines and numbers with sharp interest.

"What is that?" she asks, pointing a finger at the display.

"Fuel injection mapping for a high-performance twin-turbo setup," I reply, keeping my voice casual.

She snorts, a sound of pure disbelief. "That layout is completely wrong. If you run the fuel lines like that under heavy load, the pressure drops instantly. The engine will choke itself out before you even hit fourth gear."

I blink, genuinely surprised. Most people—even students at our university who study engineering—have no idea what they are looking at unless it is spelled out for them in a textbook. But Maya is looking at it like a mechanic who has greasy hands and burnt knuckles from working on real machines every single day of her life.

"You think you know better than the engineers who built this?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I look at her.

"I do not think, I know," Maya snaps back, her posture straightening up. Her eyes light up with sudden passion, the hostility fading away for a second, replaced by pure excitement. "My dad taught me how to rebuild a V8 block before I was old enough to drive.”

I feel a slow, genuine smile spread across my face. I expected her to be quiet, submissive, or angry. I did not expect her to sit in the passenger seat of my car and school me on engine mechanics with absolute confidence.

"Is that right, little mechanic?" I tease, loving the way her eyes flash with irritation at the nickname.

"Yes, that is right!" she shoots back, turning completely toward me, waving her hands as she explains the mechanics of torque and fuel pressure. "You rich kids just buy expensive toys and pretend you built them. You do not know what it feels like to actually get your hands dirty, to listen to an engine purr and know every single part inside it because you put it there yourself."

"You would be surprised what I know," I say quietly, though I do not argue with her.

In fact, I am enjoying this argument far more than I should. For the first time since we met, she is not looking at me like I am her jailer. She is just talking to me. She is sharp, brilliant, and completely alive. 

Before I know it, the grand stone gates of the university come into view.

Students are walking across the wide courtyards, books in their arms, laughing and talking in the morning sun. I slow the car down and steer it straight toward the main entrance circle—right where the student foot traffic is heaviest. I pull up right in front of the main library steps and put the car in park.

Maya looks out the window, and her entire body goes rigid.

The moment the car stops, dozens of heads turn. People stare at my custom car, and then their eyes shift to the passenger side as the door remains closed. Whispers start spreading across the steps. 

Maya whips her head around to glare at me, her face burning red with sudden anger. "What are you doing? Why are you parking right here in the middle of everything?"

"What does it look like?" I ask calmly, leaning my arm against the center console.

"You did this on purpose!" she accuses, pointing a finger right at my chest. "You parked here so everyone would see me getting out of your car! You want to start rumors! You want everyone to know I am tied to you!"

"I don't care what people think," I reply honestly, holding her intense gaze.

Maya stares at me, her jaw tight. "Well, I do! I am not one of your social projects, Jax. I am here to get my education and protect my family, not to be a headline in the campus gossip column."

"Then let them talk," I say, my voice dropping lower, losing the teasing edge and turning serious. "They are going to talk anyway. Let them get used to seeing you with me."

Maya opens her mouth to snap back another insult, but the words catch in her throat. She looks away, staring down at her lap, her chest rising and falling quickly. She is angry, but beneath the anger, there is something else. I look at her. Really look at her.

Her dark hair falls slightly across her face, framing her sharp cheekbones. But my eyes drop lower, fixing on the collar of her dark blazer. It is twisted slightly on one side, crooked from the way she tossed her jacket on earlier.

Without thinking, my hand moves before I can stop it.

I reach across the center console, sliding into her personal space. Maya freezes completely. Her breath catches, and her eyes fly wide open, locking onto mine with a jolt of pure shock.

My fingers brush against the fabric of her collar. My knuckles accidentally brush against the warm skin of her neck. A sudden, sharp jolt of electricity shoots up my arm, making my heart skip a beat. I carefully, slowly straighten her collar, smoothing it down with my thumb. My hand lingers there for a second longer than necessary, hovering just above her skin.

Maya does not move an inch. She stops breathing entirely. Her eyes are dark, wide, and locked onto mine, filled with a sudden, breathless tension. 

I pull my hand back slowly, letting my fingers drop away.

I look at her, watching the way her chest rises quickly, watching the way her gaze drops down to my lips for a single, fleeting second before snapping back up to my eyes.

I offer a faint, quiet smile, letting the silence wrap around us like a blanket.

"See you inside, Little Mechanic," I murmur.

Maya swallows hard, finally finding her voice, though it comes out as a breathless whisper. "I hate you."

"I know," I say, my smile widening just a little.

She reaches over, pushes the door open, and steps out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. She turns and walks up the stone steps toward the library, her head held high, looking fierce and untouchable.

Through the tinted glass, I watch her walk away. But I notice the way she reaches up with one hand, her fingers lightly touching the side of her collar where my hand just was. She presses her fingers there for a second, hesitating, before dropping her hand back to her side.

I lean back against my seat, watching her disappear through the glass doors. A strange, undeniable pull settles deep in my chest.

She thinks she hates me. But I know for a fact that she is going to spend the next several minutes sitting in her first class, completely annoyed at herself, and completely unable to stop thinking about my fingers against her collar.

And neither can I.