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CHAPTER 152 — Don’t Hide Me
Date de publication:
2026-10-12 11:09:55
Dernier chapitre
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 165 — The Perfect Answer
*POV Derby* The champagne flute in Tamara Hayden’s hand remained perfectly steady as the federal judge leaned in closer, waiting for a breakdown of the quiet, severe woman who had spent the entire charity auction sitting alone in row three. Across the polished marble floor, the string quartet continued its slow, sweeping cadence, masking the quiet cruelties traded between silk and velvet. Tamara didn't flinch, nor did she allow a flicker of irritation to cross her pristine, powdered features. She didn't even bother turning her head to look in my direction, treating my existence as something too insignificant to warrant a direct glance. "Oh, nobody, Judge," Tamara replied, her voice floating over the ambient noise of the ballroom with effortless, honeyed charm. "Just one of Jordan’s brightest employees." The judge’s gray eyebrows rose in mild, aristocratic amusement, his lips curling into a satisfied nod. "Ah. Analytical support, then? Vasquez Holdings certainly knows how to recrui
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 164 — Her Place
*POV Derby* The crystal chandelier of the Manhattan heritage ballroom cast an amber glow over rows of polished silver auction paddles and designer evening wear. Charity galas for the Vasquez Foundation were never designed to raise funds; they were carefully choreographed pageants of social dominance. Tonight’s autumn auction was no exception. From my seat in the third row—assigned strictly to the technical advisory division—I watched the room breathe in unison. Every laugh was measured, every handshake was a silent stock ticker, and every glance toward the raised stage acknowledged who held the crown. Tamara Hayden owned the room before she even stepped through the double doors. She wore a custom champagne-silk gown that seemed to capture every ray of light, her blond hair styled in immaculate, soft waves. Walking beside her, looking every bit the unyielding corporate monarch, was Jordan. His charcoal tuxedo fit his broad shoulders with razor-sharp precision, his silver silk tie c
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 163 — Don’t Send Flowers
*POV Derby* The delivery courier had not bothered to hide the sender, nor had he attempted to slide the box discreetly across the floor. He had simply marched the massive, heavy-bottomed floral arrangement straight past the main security turnstiles on Eighty-Eight, carrying a towering cascade of deep crimson roses that smelled aggressively of expensive greenhouse hothouses. By ten in the morning, the arrangement was sitting dead-center on top of my filing cabinet, its dark, velvety petals practically broadcasting an invitation for every senior analyst, tax compliance officer, and gossip-hungry paralegal to stop by my cubicle. I stared at the blossoms, my hand freezing over the mouse of my desktop terminal as a collective murmur rippled through the open-plan office. Across the aisle, the senior compliance manager pretended to check a spreadsheet while angling his head for a better look. Two rows down, a junior associate dropped a stack of binder clips just so she could lean over an
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 162 — Coffee With The Queen
*POV Derby** The bell above the heavy glass door of the boutique conservatory cafe didn't chime; it gave a soft, muted click as the door swung closed behind us. The morning sun filtered through the tall greenhouse windows, casting intricate patterns of light across polished brass tables, expensive orchids, and pale green velvet armchairs. It was the kind of place where people didn't raise their voices, where business transactions worth millions were sealed over lightly sweetened chamomile tea, and where everyone seemed to know your social standing before you even sat down. Tamara Hayden sat at a corner table overlooking the courtyard garden. She wore an ivory cashmere wrap over a tailored linen dress, her blond hair falling in loose, perfectly effortless waves over her shoulders. When I walked up, she didn't stand, but she raised one perfectly arched brow and offered a welcoming gesture toward the empty seat opposite her. "Miss Wilde. Thank you for making time," Tamara said, her
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 161 — The Morning After Again
*POV Derby* The heavy linen curtains of the private executive suite filtered the pale, gray light of dawn, casting long, silent shadows across the polished hardwood floor. Jordan was already awake. He sat motionless on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his dark evening shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the silk bow tie completely discarded on the carpet. Across the length of the sofa, wrapped tightly in a wool throw blanket, Derby was still fast asleep. Her breathing was deep, slow, and even—the exhausted sleep of someone whose mind and body had run a marathon through fire and ice before finally collapsing. Jordan didn't move to wake her. He rested his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes tracing the soft line of her profile, the faint shadow beneath her eyelashes, and the way her hand was curled loosely against the hem of the blanket. It was the same quiet observation from three years ago in Mayfair, yet everything had changed. Back then, th
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 160 — The Line That Breaks
*POV Derby* The master of ceremonies lowered his microphone slightly, his smile stretching into an expression of theatrical delight as he addressed the assembly. "On behalf of the Vasquez and Hayden families," the MC's voice echoed smoothly across the crystal-chandeliered ballroom, "we are honored to formally announce the upcoming wedding of Jordan Vasquez and Tamara Hayden, uniting two pillars of international commerce this coming winter." A sudden, sharp shockwave rippled through the room. Applause erupted like thunder, a wall of sound and glittering champagne flutes celebrating an alliance sealed in corporate blood and social dominance. I didn't wait for the applause to peak. I turned on my heel, slipping away from the towering floral arrangement and walking swiftly toward the side service exit. My breath came short and shallow, the heavy silk of my dress feeling suddenly like a cage. I pushed open the heavy glass fire door, stepping out into the cool, shadowed perimeter of th
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 6 — Again
-POV Derby The first thing that brought me back to reality wasn’t the blinding sunlight cutting through the heavy velvet drapes. It was the sheer, suffocating quiet of the room. I blinked my eyes open, my brain taking a messy five seconds to remember exactly where I was. Penthouse suite. The Four
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 5 — The Night.
-POV Derby Somewhere between freezing under Jordan Vasquez’s heavy gaze in the conference room and stepping into the private executive elevator, my brain completely short-circuited. I’d already decided to go upstairs. The rest was me desperately acting like this was still up for debate. The ride t
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 4 — Impulse
-POV Derby I spent most of Thursday morning pretending my life hadn’t become significantly more complicated over the course of a single night. By the time I slipped into a seat near the back of the conference room, my presentation was already open on my laptop. The slides waited patiently on the s
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 3 — Just a Name.
-POV Derby By Monday I’d almost convinced myself it was over. Not in some dramatic way. Just… closed. Like shutting a tab you left open too long and deciding not to open it again. I made coffee that tasted like nothing. Went to work. Answered emails acting like the weekend had never happened,
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