“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.”

The moment Juliette Weaver walked into the police station, she spotted Gunner Bryant standing by her mother, Paulina.

After what went down the night before, the last thing Juliette felt for the man she'd once adored was affection.

"Juliette! There you are!" Gunner called out once he saw her at the entrance.

He stood up, smooth as ever, that charming smile permanently plastered on his face—the kind that could melt even the iciest of hearts.

"Juliette, if it wasn't for Gunner, I never would've gotten to see your father," Paulina said, tears streaming down her face no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

Gunner offered her reassurance. "Auntie, don't be like that. It's the least I could do—after all, I'm Juliette's boyfriend!"

The word "boyfriend" hit Juliette like a punch to the gut.

She watched Gunner's phony performance, her fists balling up with rage.

Gunner came up behind her, letting his hand settle on her shoulder in a show of support. "Don't worry. I'll handle your father's situation. Auntie's been stressed all morning—I'll have someone take her home so she can rest."

Juliette struggled to hold it together. Turning to her mother, she said, "Mom, go home and get some rest, okay?"

"Alright. With Gunner here, I can breathe a little easier," Paulina said, lowering her voice as she reminded Juliette, "You know Gunner's the heir to the Bryant fortune now—the future chairman. He's sticking by you despite all that. Don't let this chance slip through your fingers."

Once Paulina had been driven off in the car Gunner arranged, he said, "Juliette, let's head back to the office."

He didn't mention a single thing about the night before. Acting as if nothing had happened, he opened the car door and handed her a breakfast sandwich.

Juliette couldn't keep the act up any longer. "Cut the crap, Gunner. What do you take me for?"

Gunner smirked as he drove. "My girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? Do you actually mean that? You handed me over to that older man last night. Is that what a boyfriend does?"

Gunner answered, cool as ever, "Didn't you say you'd do anything for my career?"

Juliette's gaze turned to ice, her trembling frame radiating fury.

"Juliette, you lost your innocence five years ago. One more night with somebody isn't going to change a thing. When I go public, I won't forget what you've done for me."

Smack!

Juliette's palm cracked across Gunner's face. She remembered borrowing money for him, suffering through a brutal assault—and now he was using it as an excuse to degrade her.

His cheek still stinging red, Gunner threw a file at her, pissed. "Juliette, if you don't want your father rotting in jail, you'll entertain some guests tonight!"

This time, Gunner didn't even bother hiding his true colors.

"My uncle just got back. Christopher Bryant—a major player on the international scene. Whether I go public depends on him. If you don't serve him well, just imagine what'll happen to your father."

With that, Gunner got out of the car, slamming the door shut.

Juliette's heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. Tears she couldn't hold back streamed down her face.

Five years of devotion. And it meant nothing.

Her phone buzzed, yanking her out of her despair. A text from a number she didn't recognize: "Ms. Weaver, you left in such a hurry this morning. Did you forget your underwear?"

The words were teasing, downright provocative.

Thinking of the man from the night before, she texted back, "I don't need them. Throw them out!"

Nearby, a sleek car was idling in the company parking lot.

In the backseat, Christopher Bryant watched Juliette climb out of her vehicle. He replied, "Since you don't need them, I'll just hang them outside your company's entrance."

Juliette Weaver was on edge. "Where are you?" she asked, scanning her surroundings but spotting no sign of Christopher Bryant.

"Turn around!" His reply was quick and sharp.

Startled, she spun to see the sleek Porsche Cayenne's headlights cutting through the dark driveway. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear he was some kind of old-money aristocrat, not the smooth-talking gentleman escort he claimed to be.

Juliette rushed to the window and tapped it. It rolled down, revealing Christopher in a tailored charcoal-gray suit and crisp white shirt, his platinum camellia cufflinks lending a touch of icy sophistication.

"Hand it over!" she demanded, reaching out, fury in her eyes.

Christopher studied her tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes. He reached out, cupping her cheek gently. "You've been crying?

Juliette shoved his hand away. "That's none of your business!"

"We're together, and you think it's none of my business?" Christopher chuckled softly. He pulled open the car door and drew her in with one firm tug.

"What are you doing? Let me go..." Her protest was cut short by a silky voice from the backseat.

"Mr. Bryant, you were so intense last night~," purred the new intern, Colette Ford, as she wrapped herself around Gunner's arm, nuzzling him playfully.

Gunner stroked her waist, reeling her close. "Didn't I tell you? You're my favorite. Of course I'd be gentle."

"You're such a tease!" she giggled, lacing her fingers through his, flirtatious as ever.

The sight made Juliette's eyes blaze with a mix of rage and humiliation. She clutched Christopher's hand, her nails digging into his skin in sheer frustration.

Christopher caught the angry red marks she was leaving, his expression darkening. He pinned his stare on the man outside the car."Don’t tell me you like him."

"Absolutely not!" Juliette shot back, defiant.

"Is that so?" He arched a brow, a smug smirk curling his lips.

He yanked her closer, pressing her against the window. Through the glass, she found herself face-to-face with Gunner outside.

Her whole body went rigid, hyperaware of Christopher behind her. "What are you doing?"

Juliette's breath hitched, especially when she saw Gunner stepping nearer.

Taking in her discomfort, Christopher playfully hiked her dress up a little higher. The already short skirt rode up, exposing way more than she was comfortable with.

"No panties, Ms. Weaver? Were you hoping I'd take care of that?" he teased.

"Show some professionalism, please! I'm not paying for your services today," she hissed, totally mortified.

Gunner drew closer to the window, and Juliette's compromising position made her feel utterly exposed.

The car rocked faintly from their movements inside.

Colette noticed Gunner's attention fixed on the car. "What are you staring at?"

Gunner said, "Don't remember seeing this car before."

Eager to reel him back, Colette offered, "If you like it, maybe I can ask my dad."

As the heiress to a jewelry empire, Colette had more money than she knew what to do with. She was only interning at Universe Inc. because she had a thing for Gunner.

Gunner smirked at her offer and pulled her closer.

Right then, Juliette felt something soft beneath her. Her discomfort melted into surprise when she realized she was wearing something totally unexpected—boxers!

"Why boxers?" she wondered aloud.

Christopher lifted a brow. "I was in a rush. My assistant could only grab a pair of men's boxers."

"So, these are yours?" she asked, glancing sideways.