Seducing My Best Friend's Playboy Brother

Jax's POV

"Jax, you're literally walking sex on legs!"

I lean lazily against the railing of the luxurious Hampton penthouse balcony, listening to the shameless confessions of adoration from the three girls beside me. Same old shit.

"Of course, babies," I casually scroll through my phone, watching the numbers skyrocket under my latest gym photo. "God definitely took his time crafting perfection when he made me."

23,000 likes, 3,500 comments, all fire emojis and love confessions. This is Jax Vanderbilt's daily reality—worshipped, desired, needed.

Honestly, it feels fucking amazing. From Saint Grove to the Hamptons, from New York's Upper East Side to California beaches, I'm the center of attention wherever I go. My Instagram bio "Why choose one when you can have them all?" isn't bragging—I literally have the credentials to back it up.

"I heard there are some models chasing after you in Aspen?" Charlotte asks coyly, her fingers deliberately trailing across my arm.

Models? Those thirsty bitches.

"Models? Baby, my charm isn't limited to the modeling world." I chuckle, "Last week the Harvard Law student body president was sliding into my DMs begging for a reply."

All of this is natural to me. After all, who am I? Jax Vanderbilt—6'1" of perfection, sculpted features, and enough family wealth to buy the entire Saint Grove.

I'm the man others dream of becoming. And those girls? They dream of being fucked by me.

Just as I'm about to post another Instagram story flaunting tonight's conquests, a figure emerges from inside onto the balcony, instantly capturing my undivided attention.

Holy shit.

A black silk slip dress hugs breathtaking curves, hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, seemingly silver-plated under the moonlight. Damn, this woman is definitely tonight's ultimate prize.

Mysterious, aloof, ethereally independent—completely different from any girl I've ever encountered. Not like those thirsty little sluts who throw themselves at me. Interesting.

She glances in this direction, those eyes sparkling under the moonlight. Then... she looks away.

Wait, what?

I'm stunned. This has never happened before. Usually when girls see me, they either blush and want to fuck me, or find ways to strike up conversation. But this girl just... ignored me?

This is absolutely impossible.

"Jax? What are you looking at?" Charlotte follows my gaze, danger immediately flashing in her eyes.

"Nothing important." I look away, but my thoughts have clearly flown to that mysterious girl. Tonight's new target: acquired.

She's now elegantly holding champagne, standing alone at the other end of the balcony enjoying the night view. Moonlight outlines her profile—absolutely perfect like a work of art.

I have to have her.

"Ladies, excuse me for a moment." I adjust my shirt, ensuring I look flawless—though I always do.

I deliberately slow my pace, making my appearance more dramatic. This is my signature strategy, never fails with any girl. Let them notice my presence first, then be completely conquered by my charm, and finally... crawl into my bed like good little sluts.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" I use my sexiest voice while striking that classic pose that garners countless screams on Instagram—one hand in my pocket, the other casually resting on the railing.

The girl turns, those eyes even more beautiful than I imagined. She glances at me, lips curving into a polite but distant smile.

"Yes, very beautiful."

Then she turns back to continue viewing the night scene.

That's it?

My smile freezes. This reaction... has never happened before.

"I'm Jax Vanderbilt." I deliberately emphasize the "Vanderbilt" surname while stepping closer to her. "You alone?"

"Obviously." She still doesn't look at me, her tone as indifferent as if speaking to air.

I feel adrenaline surging through my veins. This girl actually dares to ignore me?

"Usually girls are... more enthusiastic when they meet me." I deliberately lower my voice with obvious suggestive undertones. "You sure you don't want to get to know me... more intimately?"

This time she finally faces me directly, those eyes holding an expression I've never seen before—contempt.

"More enthusiastic?" She laughs lightly, that sound sharp as a blade. "You mean like those brain-dead girls around you, drooling over you?"

My smile completely disappears. No one dares speak to me like this.

"Watch your words, baby." My voice carries dangerous undertones as I move even closer. "You don't know what you're rejecting."

"I know exactly what I'm rejecting." She turns to face me, eyes sharp enough to see right through me. "I'm rejecting a man who treats conquering women like a sport."

She pauses, lips curving into a sarcastic arc: "Sorry, I'm not interested in your collecting hobby."

Blood instantly rushes to my brain. Collecting hobby? She actually dares say that to me?

"You think you're special?" I close in on her, voice dangerously low. "You think playing hard to get will catch my attention? Baby, I've seen this act too many times."

"Then you must be disappointed often." She doesn't back down, instead meeting my gaze fearlessly. "Because you'll never get what you really want—someone who genuinely likes you, not your wallet."

This hits like a slap across my face.

"I never wanted genuine feelings." I say through gritted teeth. "What I want is conquest."

She smiles, that expression beautiful and cruel: "Then you're destined for disappointment tonight."

With that, she gracefully turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, fists clenched tight.

Soon I find her—in the center of the dance floor, every movement sexy as hell, as if deliberately provoking me.

This beauty thinks the game is over?

I stride into the dance floor, everyone automatically clearing the way. I need to show her that no woman humiliates Jax Vanderbilt and walks away unscathed.

"Care to dance?" I extend my hand directly, no longer maintaining any gentlemanly pretense.

She looks at my hand, something flashing in her eyes—is that challenge?

"You sure you can handle being rejected again?" Her voice carries obvious mockery.

"Try me." My gaze turns menacing. "Or can you only talk tough?"

She suddenly smiles, that expression making my heart race: "Just one dance. Let me see what the legendary Jax Vanderbilt is capable of."

My arm circles her waist, pulling tight to press her closer. Her body is soft and warm, that scent making me want more.

"You know what?" I whisper in her ear, deliberately breathing on her neck. "Most girls at this distance would be blushing and panting."

"You sure that's because of your charm?" Her voice comes against my ear, carrying deadly seduction. "Or because of your cheap cologne?"

My arm immediately tightens almost vengefully.

"Watch that tongue, baby." My voice becomes rough. "It might get you in trouble."

"My tongue?" She looks up at me, eyes full of provocation. "At least my tongue speaks truth, unlike some people... who use theirs to deceive one stupid girl after another."

Fuck.

This woman's every word is like salt on my wounded pride. But strangely, I feel unprecedented... excitement.

"Want to know what else my tongue can do?" I lean closer, almost touching her lips. "I guarantee it'll leave an impression."

Her eyes suddenly turn ice cold as she pushes me away.

"I heard you never get rejected?" Her voice carries mockery. "Seems the legend is just that—a legend."

I feel my blood boiling: "I'm Jax Vanderbilt. I fuck whoever I want. Including you."

Something flashes in her eyes—anger? Disappointment?

She rises on her tiptoes, lips almost touching my ear: "Then tonight will be your first failure. Because you'll never have me."

Then she disappears into the crowd, leaving me standing there, hard as rock, heart pounding like thunder.

First failure?

No woman makes Jax Vanderbilt fail.

None.

But why do I now only want to pin her against the wall and show her what real conquest means?