Page 6 of Breakpoint
She was practicing with Marco, her hitting partner, who traveled with Jaz to major events. She knew he was a former pro himself and was always nice to her whenever Dani saw him on the practice courts. He had such an easygoing demeanor, and Dani wondered why he worked for such an ice queen like Jaz. She couldn’t wait until she made enough money to hire a hitting partner and trainer to travel with her and not have to pay some random local person that Tom found.
Jaz’s serve popped off the racket, and Dani could immediately tell why it was the best in the game. She was lethal without saying a word. At five feet nine, Jaz was a study in athletic grace and power. Her skin was a rich, deep ebony, smooth and flawless, and her physique was sculpted and toned. She watched in awe as Jaz hitMarcos’ lightning-fast serves back with ease. Every movement was a study in controlled power. When Jaz twisted her midsection in an oblique stretch, waiting for the next ball, Dani couldn’t help but lick her lips and stare. She had seen or walked by Jaz in the training area or locker room at big tournaments the last few months. But really, seeing Jaz Mason up close in her element like this was a revelation. The sight was just sublime.
Her eyes, dark and intensely focused, followed the ball with laser-like precision, anticipating Marcos’ every move. Her hair pulled back in a bun emphasized the strong lines of her face, showcasing high cheekbones and a determined jawline. Her presence on the court was magnetic, and Dani couldn’t tear her eyes away. She was honestly Dani’s wet dream come to life.
She could see how this woman won seventeen Grand Slam titles and countless tournaments. Most tennis players lost more than they won, but Jaz was one of the few who had won at least three times more than she had lost.
The practice session, a brutal display of precision and endurance, ended as abruptly as it began. Jaz’s coach came over to her and whispered a few words in her ear and pointed towards Dani. At that moment, Jaz turned towards Dani and even though her eyes were dark chocolate, her gaze was as cold as a glacier. An unexpected shiver went down her spine at having those eyes focused on her. Jaz gave a subtle nod and wiped the sweat off her glistening body.
Moments later, Dani found herself ushered into a small, shaded area near the back of the practice courts. Jaz was sitting down, focused on a protein shake and eating a banana.
“Hi Jaz.” Dani tried for a smile, the kind that usually disarmed even the most hardened reporters.
Her breath caught when Jaz flicked her eyes to her and gave Dani her full attention. Jaz’s eyes examined her, sizing her up. Jaz had just had an intense practice and was likely overheated from the desert heat, but the vibe coming from her was cold. “You’re Daniela Kappas,” she stated. Her voice was clipped, devoid of any warmth, and her demeanor impenetrable. Jaz’s stare lasered through Dani and made her feel a bit unsettled. Flustered.
“My friends call me Dani,” she replied, sticking her hand out for an introduction, hoping to break the tension.
Jaz looked at her own hands and then at Dani’s hands, but didn’t move them to shake Dani’s. She also didn’t return the smile, and the corner of her mouth barely twitched. “So, Daniela, looks like we’re playing doubles together.”
Dani’s smile faltered. So much for breaking the ice.
“That’s what they tell me.” A glacial silence emanated from where Jaz sat, as Dani waited for Jaz to say something, anything else. But she was content to just eat her banana. Like she would rather be anywhere else but here, dealing with Dani. This would obviously not be a partnership forged in camaraderie.
“Well, I’m looking forward to playing with you.” Dani pushed the words out of her mouth, both of them knowing it was a blatantlie.
Jaz, without looking up, threw the banana peel in her bag with a sharp, decisive thud. “Winning is the expectation, not just playing,” she said, her voice as cool and clipped as her movement. “I trust you understand the gravity of the situation, Daniela?”
The use of her full name again was a deliberate jab, a reminder of the vast chasm that separated them. Dani’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I get it. Gold or bust. I’m not exactly new to pressure, you know.” She regretted the petulant tone instantly, but it was too late.
Jaz finally raised her gaze. “Pressure is a privilege, Daniela,” she stated, her voice dripping with disdain. “One you haven’t yet earned the right to claim.”
Wow. Is that massive ego of yours real?
The unspoken “compared to me” hung heavy in the air. This was it. Their first encounter as doubles partners.
Dani quickly remembered who this woman was. Jaz was known for being stoic, impenetrable, and as far as Dani knew, she didn’t have a single friend on tour. And she had just confirmed that Jaz Mason was even more egotistical and unfriendly than the rumors around the locker room or even the media portrayed.
This was the woman who had ended her mother’s career without a second thought. Never even acknowledging the greatness that was Brittany Kappas that she was looking to equal with eighteen Grand Slams.
After standing in silence for a minute, but it felt like forever, Jaz got up to continue her practice session. Dismissing Dani and any further conversation or another word.
This bitch.
Chapter 3
The Florida sun beat down mercilessly on Jaz’s practice courts, even though it was still March, the hard surface radiating heat that shimmered in gauzy waves. Sweat trickled down her back, plastering her shirt to her skin as she practiced her serve. She didn’t win Indian Wells and was still pissed about it. She made it into the semi-finals and lost to the number five player in the world, but showing up and not winning was a failure in her book.
And to top it all off, her normal training schedule for the day and the order she liked were being thrown off. She needed order in her everyday life to help with the chaos of being on tour. So to say she was in a foul mood was an understatement.
She normally did strength training first thing in the morning and then hit the courts. But instead of her normal lifting session, she was waiting for Daniela to arrive because, after a month, their schedules finally aligned, and their teams had set up their first official hitting session together. It was planned right before the Miami Open at Jaz’s house in Boca Raton, Florida. Jaz’s home was her sanctuary, so it was a compromiseto allow Daniela to come here. But it was this or the unnecessary spectacle of crowds if they went to a public court, which would definitely come once everyone saw them hitting together.
Privacy was paramount. The towering walls shielded Jaz's full-sized tennis court from prying eyes, ensuring complete focus and uninterrupted training. A retractable awning provided shade when the sun grew too intense, while strategically placed foliage offered a natural screen from the outside world. Living in Florida allowed Jaz to train all year long, which was necessary since tennis was essentially a year-round sport.
Inside, the house was an oasis of calm and relaxation. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered panoramic views of the meticulously landscaped grounds, blurring the lines between indoors and out. A state-of-the-art gym, complete with a dedicated recovery area, allowed for cross-training and injury prevention. A spacious chef’s kitchen fueled her demanding training regimen with healthy, gourmet meals. Everything about her house was about making sure Jaz stayed at the top. And inviting Daniela into her space felt like an invasion.
Daniela should have been here a while ago, and Jaz was getting even more annoyed as she waited. She had already worked with Marcos and Mike on her forehand, backhand, overhead, and lob. She was now just hitting serves with Marcos to keep her body warm. Just as she was tossing the ball in the air to practice her slice serve out wide, the gate screeched open at the top of her follow-through. The noise screwed up Jaz’s timing and the ball missed outside the box by at least a foot. She turned to see who the fuck would dare that faux pas during atop of her swing.
Daniela Kappas. Of course. She was smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world, or that she was forty-five minutes late to their agreed-upon session.
