“What’s with all the trembling? You’re the one who made the first move, remember?”
Christopher Bryant’s warm breath tickled Juliette Weaver’s ear as his fingers slowly lifted the hem of her Victorian-style dress. Her body was so damn sensitive to his touch—she shivered the second his fingers started their slow glide upward.
Earlier that night, her boyfriend of five years, Gunner Bryant, had sold her out for a shot at impressing some investor. He’d pumped her full of coffee until she was wired and barely coherent, then dumped her in a hotel room with some older guy. Barely clinging to consciousness, she managed to escape, her head spinning hard, her legs wobbling like a newborn fawn.
Stumbling down the hallway, Juliette literally crashed right into Christopher as he stepped out of the elevator. Just like grasping a lifeline, she clung to him, her soft lips pressing against his before she even knew what she was doing.
“Don’t stop now,” Juliette murmured, her face flushed, gaze all dreamy and unfocused over her shoulder. Totally out of it, she rubbed against him, hoping to get some kind of reaction—anything.
Amused by her clumsy, awkward come-on, Christopher chuckled low in his throat. “Oh, so we’re eager, huh?” He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, settling her above him as if she was something precious. “Go ahead then, show me what you’ve got,” he teased, voice playful as hell.
Juliette fumbled with his belt, her lack of experience painfully obvious as she struggled to get the damn thing undone. “I…I can’t open it!” she whined, frustrated.
In the dim amber glow of the room, her pale skin flushed with raw need, and a small, vivid red mole caught Christopher’s eye—so tempting he just had to tease it gently. He leaned in, catching her earlobe between his teeth, whispering in that deep, husky voice, “Ask me real nice, and I’ll help you out.”
“Please…” she whimpered, the sound so soft and enticing it made Christopher’s throat bob with a hard swallow.
He guided her hands, walking her through it step by step…
The night unraveled into a whirlwind of raw passion that didn’t let up until dawn.
The next morning—eight a.m., like clockwork—Juliette’s eyes fluttered open to a face so stupidly handsome it didn’t feel real. The man had that effortless elegance, a cool, composed vibe that instantly jarred her awake. Who the hell was this stranger in her bed?
Her gaze snagged on a card lying on the mattress. She snatched it up and read the list: *Boss persona $1000, Puppy persona $1500…*
She froze solid.
Wait—did she just spend the night with a guy doing the whole ‘Boss’ fantasy?
Panic hit like a truck. Juliette scrambled through her scattered clothes for her wallet, fingers shaking as she threw down a thousand bucks. Stuffing herself into her outfit, she ignored the ache between her thighs and slipped out of that room like a ghost.
The second the door clicked shut, a heavy silence swallowed the lavish suite.
Christopher’s piercing, icy eyes opened, landing on the empty side of the bed—and that thousand dollars just sitting there. As one of the world’s top investors and the secret mastermind pulling the strings of the entire Bryant dynasty, getting mistaken for some cheap gigolo? Yeah, that was beyond insulting.
His gaze turned dark, flickering with dangerous curiosity as he picked up the badge left behind. Pressing his thumb over the name *Juliette Weaver,* he hit dial on his assistant, Everlee Richardson.
“Find out right now where Juliette Weaver from Sylvan Group is.”
“Yes, Mr. Bryant!” came the prompt reply.
This wasn’t the first time she’d slipped away after a night together. Five years ago, the exact same thing. And now? History was repeating itself.
He savored the faint trace of her still clinging to his fingers, a sly, crooked grin spreading across his face. “This time, let’s see where you think you can hide, brat.”
…
Juliette slumped in the back of a cab as it sped away from the hotel, her skin still carrying Christopher’s scent—a sharp, pleasant fragrance that now just made her sick to her stomach.
It dragged back all the bitter memories from last night: Gunner, the man she’d loved with everything she had, tossing her aside just to climb a few rungs higher.
She’d stood by him through all his failures. Dumped her savings into his pathetic little startup. Gave up a life-changing opportunity abroad for him. Even after his constant screwups, she kept grinding, borrowing money she couldn’t afford to prop him up, destroying her own reputation in the process.
Thinking about all of it now? A hot, searing pain ripped through her chest.
Then her phone blasted through the quiet, that harsh ring slicing into her thoughts like a blade.
She answered, and immediately heard her mother, Paulina, sobbing on the other end. “Juliette, something horrible’s happened! Your father—he’s been arrested. Please, you have to get to the police station right now!”
Shock punched the air from Juliette’s lungs. “Why? Dad doesn’t get arrested—what the hell happened?”
Paulina’s voice shook. “They’re saying he was driving drunk last night and killed someone!”
Juliette couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s insane. Dad never drinks. Mom, I’m on my way.”
