Off Balance Series Novels & Stories

I hear Lesha say with a grin on her face as she watches us. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms.Ox, I promise not to keep her out too late." I say as I hold out my hand to shake hers. Her grandmother looks down at my hands without moving at all, and I start to feel uncomfortable and slightly awkward. She looks straight in my eyes with a serious expression on her face. "I expect her to be back here no later than 11pm and I am choosing to trust you with her safety, so if anything happens to her, you'll have me to deal with." Ms.Ox says sternly as she extends her hand and grips mine with a lot of strength that wasn't expected at all.

He called out behind me. I closed the door behind me as I walked back in, Jakob was coming down the stairs just then, messy sandy blonde hair hanging over his eyebrows and hiding his honey eyes. "Don't look at me that way." Jakob stated at my awkward perusal. "I still don't get how you have the confidence to walk around shirtless, bro, you're such an eyesore." I mocked in feigned disgust. Not to be a simp, but Jakey boy was actually in every highschool girl's dream, I'm talking six foot plus, tanned body, chiseled abs, yeah he was it all.

The screen was active, displaying a countdown timer that was currently sitting at forty-two seconds. "The moment this timer hits zero, an automated script will release the complete, un-redacted archival files on every single legal anomaly, every offshore transaction, and every private liability your father ever committed directly to the public media networks," Vance barked, his face twisting into a mask of pure malice. "I will burn the Ambrose name to the absolute ground before my ship clears the harbor. Your infrastructure, your family wealth, your perfect legal standing—gone. In less than a minute."

He was wearing nothing but a towel slung loosely around his hips. “Good morning, Robyn. You are up bright and early!” He flashed me a sexy smile, which I didn’t return. He was entirely too cheerful. I may have been awake at six in the morning, but I wasn’t friendly. Phoenix’s bulky body blocked my path to the bathroom, so I had no choice but to look at him. He was jacked, with big, bulgy muscles and a perfectly hairless chest. He had the same gothic angel of death tattoo as his brother, but his was situated over his chest. Noticing where my eyes had landed, he flexed his pectoral muscles and grinned.

She had a clipboard, a headset, and the kind of calm that only comes from having survived a hundred disasters and learned none of them were worth panicking over. I jogged over. “Yep.” She didn’t look up. “We’re doing the alternate outro for ‘Silverline’ tonight. Jace wants the longer bridge. That means the guitar swap happens eight bars earlier. You got it?” “Eight bars earlier,” I repeated, and she finally flicked her gaze up to make sure I was tracking. “Good. Also, Micah’s in ear pack is cutting out. Audio’s on it. If he asks you for a fresh battery, you hand it over and keep moving. No stopping. No talking. We’re in show mode.”

So, remember how I said being paired with Marcus Halverin was a nightmare? Well, imagine that nightmare, but add a 4K resolution and a soundtrack of him constantly humming while I’m trying to calculate the structural integrity of a bridge. For the next week, our "partnership" was basically a cold war. He’d "accidentally" delete my CAD files; I’d "accidentally" switch his protein powder with powdered sugar. It was petty, it was childish, and honestly? It was exhausting.

"Hope you don't mind. You can trade seats if you're tired of him." A tall figure stops at our row. Nate. He glances at us in the row and moves to the one ahead. "Hey, we saved a seat for you," Cam almost wails. Almost at the same time, Dylan sits on the last seat in our row. "Now it's taken." Cam throws his hands in the air. "Shut up, Cam. It's me," Dylan replies. "I know, bitch," Cam snorts. Everyone keeps telling Cam to shut up. I mean, he's so talkative. What do I care?

Did the handshake into shoulder grip thing. “Ground rule thirteen stands,” he said. “Marcus—” “Non negotiable.” “We haven’t—” Damon looked at Zara. “We haven’t officially—” “I know,” Marcus said. “The rule stands preemptively.” He stepped back. “I’ll see you Sunday.” He left. They were alone on the pavement. Zara and Damon. The Thames nearby. London enormous and indifferent. The verdict behind them. November ahead. The whole complicated extraordinary ordinary life between.

Despite the clean, aristocratic silhouette he presented to the room, every movement of his shoulders sent a dull, heavy ache through his chest—a quiet, permanent reminder of the territory Jaxson had claimed in the subterranean vaults. Across the table sat Sarah, her eyes locked onto her laptop screen as a continuous stream of promotional metrics and media inquiries flooded her inbox. "The network is capitalizing on the momentum from yesterday's fitness test," Sarah said, her voice carrying that sharp, rapid-fire executive clip that signaled a massive commercial victory. "The 'Off the Ice' joint campaign has been picked up by three major national sponsors. They aren't just buying ad space dur