Give Me Your Heart
Description
In the gilded world of Ashford Academy, Bella Sinclair is the untouchable golden girl with a fatal secret: a rare genetic heart condition that no donor has ever matched. Ajax Spencer is everything she shouldn't want: the campus outlaw prince with a leather jacket, an underground racing habit, and a grudge he's worn like armor since a humiliating mishap at a gala turned first love into open war. When they are forced to become waltz partners, their years of hatred ignite into a dangerous chemistry. But Ajax is playing a darker game: a cruel bet to seduce, break, and publicly humiliate her. As their connection deepens, Ajax discovers her secret is far more devastating than his betrayal. In a love story where every heartbeat is a countdown, the ultimate price for a love born from a lie will be more staggering than either could ever imagine.
Chapter 1
Sep 16, 2025
POV Bella
The amber pill bottle trembled against my palm as I twisted the cap. Two white tablets, same as every night.
Camila pretended to check her makeup in the visor mirror, granting me the illusion of privacy I no longer needed.
"You know, one day someone's going to catch you," she said, reapplying her signature red lipstick. "Then what? Your perfect image goes up in smoke?"
"Let them wonder," I replied, swallowing the pills dry. "Everyone at Ashford has secrets. Mine just happens to come with a prescription."
The Curtis estate blazed against the night sky before us. Music pulsed through the manicured gardens where the young elite of Ashford Academy gathered for their monthly ritual of expensive liquor and cheaper gossip.
"Ready to play the ice princess?" Camila asked as we approached the entrance.
"I never stop," I said, arranging my features into practiced perfection.
The party swallowed us whole—a sea of designer clothes and inherited confidence. I moved through the crowd with rehearsed grace, accepting air kisses and empty compliments.
Then the motorcycles roared into the driveway, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
Four bikes. Four riders.
But I only saw one.
Ajax Spencer dismounted with the fluid arrogance that had tormented my dreams since I was seventeen. His leather jacket caught the landscape lights as he pulled off his helmet, dark hair falling perfectly disheveled.
Time had only sharpened his edges—turned the beautiful boy who'd once made me stutter into something more dangerous.
"Oh good…" Camila muttered beside me. "The barbarians have arrived."
I forced myself to look away, but the damage was done.
The memories crashed over me like a tide.
Three years at Whitmore Preparatory—the boarding school where old money sent their children to become proper heirs. Ajax had transferred in sophomore year, a wild card among calculated perfection.
I'd watched him from across the halls, fascinated by someone who didn't care about the rules we'd been bred to follow.
Every time he passed my locker with that lazy stride, my pulse would betray me. But approaching him meant risking rejection from someone who already stood outside our world by choice.
I was too much of a coward then, too afraid of my family's reaction, too worried about my perfect image I need to follow.
And then the Sinclair Foundation Gala destroyed everything before it began.
Four years ago, I'd been standing near the champagne tower when Ajax Spencer walked straight toward me.
No warning. No hesitation. Just that dangerous smile and determined stride cutting through the crowd.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Every practiced word evaporated. He was too close, too sudden, too much. My hands shot up instinctively—pushing, panicking. He stumbled backward, arms windmilling, crashing into the tower.
Crystal shattered. Champagne exploded. Dozens of phones captured his destruction while I stood frozen, hands still raised, horrified at what I'd done.
Every cruel comment, every public embarrassment in my way—all stemming from one stupid, nervous gesture that ruined any chance we might have had.
That moment birthed four years of warfare between me and Ajax.
I was dragged back from my thoughts the second Zack cornered me near the pool, droning about his father’s latest acquisition while I nodded at appropriate intervals. When he finally left me with Camila and we were watching the party’s reflection shimmer across the water—they found us.
Here we go…
"Is that Bella Sinclair?" The syrupy voice made my spine stiffen. "I didn't realize Victoria was doing charity invites now."
Laila Whitmore stood before me, her body poured into a dress that cost more than most people's cars. She'd attached herself to Ajax's arm the moment he'd entered and her perfectly manicured nails digging into his leather jacket like talons.
"Laila," I acknowledged coolly. "I see new money is still desperately trying to buy relevance. How exhausting that must be for you."
The crowd around us quieted, sensing blood in the water. Ajax's eyes snapped to mine—amused and dangerous.
"At least my family earned their fortune this century," Laila hissed. "We don't need to coast on great-grandaddy's railroad monopoly."
"No, you just need to beg for invitations to parties where you'll never quite belong." I smiled sweetly. "But don't worry, desperation is almost fashionable these days."
Ajax laughed then—a low sound that scraped against my spine. "Careful, Laila. The princess has claws, apparently."
"Does she?" Laila's smile turned vicious. "Let's see how sharp they are when she's all wet."
She moved fast—a calculated stumble, her shoulder catching mine. But I saw it coming, and tried to sidestep. Her hand shot out, shoving hard, and the pool rushed up to meet me.
Cold water shocked the air from my lungs. My dress became a lead weight, dragging me down. I surfaced gasping, hair plastered to my face, mascara already running.
Laughter exploded around the pool. Phones appeared like weapons, recording my humiliation for tomorrow's social media massacre.
Through the chlorine blur, I saw Ajax doubled over, his perfect face crinkled with mirth.
That somehow hurt worse than the fall.
"Oh my God, Bella!" Laila's fake concern rang across the water. "I'm so sorry! These heels are just impossible to walk in. Are you okay?"
I treaded water, my soaked dress tangling around my legs. "Perfect," I managed through gritted teeth.
"You look like a drowned rat," someone called out, triggering fresh laughter.
"Better than looking like trash," I shot back, but my voice cracked, ruining the effect.
Ajax straightened, wiping tears from his eyes. Our gazes locked across the water, and for one moment, I let him see everything—the hurt, the humiliation, the ghost of that seventeen-year-old girl who'd once thought he was worth knowing.
His laughter died and for a moment, I thought I saw something like regret flicker across his face.
“Here,” he said, stepping to the pool’s edge and extending his hand. “Let me help you out.”
Relief flooded through me. Maybe there was still some decency left in him after all. I reached up, grasping his warm, strong hand.
He pulled me halfway up—and then let go.
I crashed back into the water with an even bigger splash, going under completely this time. The crowd exploded into hysterics, their laughter twice as loud as before.
When I surfaced again, sputtering and humiliated beyond measure, Ajax was grinning like the devil himself.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he called out sarcastically over the roaring laughter, “my hand must have slipped. Guess you’re just too slippery to save.”
"Bella!" Camila shoved through the crowd, kneeling at the pool's edge. "Here, take my hand."
I struggled toward her, my dress fighting every movement, but my hands slipped on the pool's edge, sending me back into the water.
More laughter. More phones.
More evidence of Bella Sinclair's spectacular fall from grace.
"This is priceless," Jake Murphy crowed, Ajax's best friend and enabler. "The ice princess finally melts!"
"Shut up, you jerk," Camila snapped, but no one moved.
I finally hauled myself onto the pool deck, water streaming from my ruined dress.
It clung to every curve, transparent in places, completing my transformation from Ashford royalty to tomorrow's viral joke.
Well, shit.
Give Me Your Heart
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