Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

JACE’S POV

I leaned back in my office chair, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that had been building there all afternoon. The Callahan reports were finally done, formatted and ready for Monday’s presentation. I glanced at my watch and realized most of the office had already cleared out, everyone rushing home to get ready for tonight’s gala.

I should have left an hour ago myself.

I was about to shut down my computer when I heard a knock at my door. I looked up, expecting maybe the janitor or security doing their rounds, but instead Miranda stood in my doorway wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination and a smile that made my stomach turn.

“Ma’am,” I said carefully, keeping my tone professional. “What are you doing here? Everyone’s supposed to be getting ready for the party.”

She stepped inside without invitation, her heels clicking against the floor as she closed the door behind her. “I could ask you the same thing. Still working while everyone else is having fun?”

I stood up from my desk, subtly putting more distance between us. “Just finishing up some reports. I was about to head out actually.”

“Perfect timing then,” she purred, moving closer. Her perfume was overpowering in the small space, something heavy and floral that made me want to open a window. “I wanted to talk to you before the gala. Privately.”

Every instinct in my body screamed warning. I moved toward the door, reaching for my jacket on the coat rack. “We can talk on Monday if it’s about work. I really need to get going.”

Her hand shot out and pressed against my chest, stopping me. I looked down at her fingers splayed across my shirt, then back up at her face. She’d moved impossibly close, close enough that I could see the calculation behind her heavily made-up eyes.

“It’s not about work,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down my chest slowly, tracing the buttons on my shirt. Her other hand came up to rest on my shoulder as she leaned in, her lips nearly brushing my ear. “I’ve been thinking about you, Jace. About what we could be together.”

My jaw clenched and I grabbed her wrists firmly, pushing her back and creating distance between us. “What the hell are you doing?”

She blinked up at me with false innocence but her eyes remained calculating. “I thought you’d enjoy it. Didn’t you like how I touched you?”

“No,” I said flatly, releasing her wrists like they’d burned me. “I didn’t enjoy it at all. And I’d appreciate it if nothing like this ever happens again. Are we absolutely clear?”

Her face flushed red, whether from embarrassment or anger I couldn’t tell and didn’t care to find out. I grabbed my jacket and walked past her, leaving her standing there in my office.

I didn’t look back.

The drive home felt longer than usual. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary as I replayed the scene in my head. Miranda’s touch had made my skin crawl, everything about her screamed manipulation and trouble.

By the time I pulled into my apartment building’s garage, I was seriously considering skipping the gala altogether. The thought of putting on a fake smile and making small talk after that encounter made me exhausted. I could just stay home, pour myself a drink, and forget this entire evening happened.

But as I walked into my apartment and saw the tuxedo I’d picked up from the dry cleaners hanging on my bedroom door, I hesitated. Missing the gala would raise questions, especially from Miranda. She’d think she’d gotten to me, that her little stunt had worked.

I couldn’t give her that satisfaction.

I showered quickly, washing away the lingering disgust from her touch. The hot water helped clear my head as I focused on getting through tonight with minimal drama. I’d show up, make an appearance, have one drink, and leave early. Simple.

The tuxedo fit perfectly when I put it on. I adjusted my bow tie in the mirror, checking my reflection one last time. Professional. Controlled. Exactly the image I needed to project tonight.

I grabbed my keys and wallet, locked up the apartment, and headed back down to my car. Traffic was light on the way to the venue and I made good time, arriving just as the sun was setting and casting the city in shades of orange and gold.

The ballroom was already packed when I walked in. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over clusters of designers, analysts, and executives mingling with champagne flutes in hand. Classical music played softly in the background, barely audible over the hum of conversation and laughter. I scanned the room automatically, looking for familiar faces and exits in case I needed to make a quick escape.

And then I saw her.

Emily stood near the far side of the room in a gown that made every coherent thought evaporate from my mind. It was black and sleek with a slit that ran dangerously high up her thigh, stopping just at the top of her leg and revealing the smooth curve of her hip with every step she took. The fabric clung to her body like it had been designed specifically for her, accentuating every line and curve I’d memorized that night weeks ago and had been trying desperately to forget ever since.

Her hair was pulled back elegantly, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and when she laughed at something her colleague said, something tightened painfully in my chest.

Our eyes met across the crowded room. For one heartbeat everything else faded away, the music, the people, the noise. It was just her and me and the electric tension that had been building between us since that first night. Then she looked away deliberately, turning back to her conversation like I didn’t exist.

That small dismissal lit something inside me, something reckless and hungry and entirely beyond my control.

I crossed the room in long strides, weaving through clusters of people until I stood directly in front of her. She glanced up and her expression was carefully neutral, but I caught the slight widening of her eyes and the way her grip tightened around her champagne glass.

“Dance with me,” I said, extending my hand.

She raised an eyebrow and her lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I think you’d better find someone more your type, Jace.”

The words hit exactly where she’d intended them to. I’d said that in the break room days ago, thought she hadn’t overheard, but clearly she had and clearly she hadn’t forgotten.

I smiled anyway, keeping my hand extended between us. “Are you jealous, Emily?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I’m not jealous of anything.”

“Then prove it,” I challenged, my voice dropping lower so only she could hear. “If you’re not jealous, take my hand and dance with me.”

She hesitated and her eyes searched mine for something, maybe sincerity or maybe a reason to say no. Finally, she set down her champagne glass and placed her hand in mine.

The moment our palms touched I felt electricity shoot up my arm. I led her to the dance floor where other people were already swaying to the orchestra’s slow melody. My hand found the small of her back and I pulled her closer than was strictly professional, close enough that I could smell her perfume, something subtle and intoxicating that made my head spin.

We moved together naturally, falling into rhythm like we’d done this a hundred times before. I leaned down, my lips close to her ear. “You look incredible tonight.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, but her voice wavered slightly. “Don’t try to flirt with me, Jace. I’m still your senior.”

“What if it was the other way around?” I asked, genuinely curious. My hand spread wider on her back, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric. “What if I was the senior and you were the trainee?”

She was quiet for a moment, her breath catching slightly as we turned. “Maybe then it would be different.”

My hand slowly, deliberately, moved lower down her back until my palm rested against the curve of her ass. I waited for her to pull away, to slap me, to tell me off. But she didn’t. She kept dancing like she hadn’t noticed, though the rapid rise and fall of her chest told me she absolutely had.

The song changed to something slower and more intimate. I maneuvered us toward the edge of the dance floor, away from the crowd, until her back was against the wall in a dimly lit corner. Our bodies were pressed together now and I could feel every curve of her against me.

“Jace,” she whispered, but it wasn’t a protest.

I captured her lips with mine and she responded immediately, kissing me back with a hunger that matched my own. Her hands fisted in my jacket as my tongue swept into her mouth, tasting champagne and desperation. This wasn’t the careful, tentative kiss from the bar weeks ago. This was possessive and rough and everything I’d been holding back since the moment I’d walked into that boardroom and realized the woman I’d spent the night with was now my boss. Maybe not.

My hand found the slit in her dress and slid up her bare thigh, feeling her shiver against me. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that drove me absolutely insane.

“Come with me,” I growled against her lips, already pulling her away from the wall.

She nodded breathlessly and I grabbed her hand, leading her through the crowd toward the hallway where I’d seen the bathrooms earlier. We barely made it inside before I had her pressed against the door, my mouth on hers again as my hands roamed freely over her body.

I bunched her dress up around her hips, exposing her lace underwear. Her legs wrapped around my waist as I lifted her slightly, pressing her harder against the door. My fingers found the edge of her panties and she gasped into my mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” I said hoarsely, giving her one last chance to walk away.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Don’t you dare stop.”

My fingers slipped beneath the lace and found her wet and ready. She threw her head back against the door as I stroked her slowly at first, then faster as her breathing became more ragged. Her hands clutched at my shoulders desperately and her hips moved against my hand, seeking more friction and more pressure.

“Jace,” she moaned, and hearing my name on her lips like that nearly undid me completely.

I added another finger and she cried out, her body trembling as I worked her higher and higher. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted and she looked absolutely beautiful falling apart in my arms.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​