The champagne splashes across his tuxedo before I can stop it. Crystal liquid dripping down black silk. Mothball-scented garland scattered at our feet in the elevator.
My boss. My devastatingly handsome, silver-haired, untouchable boss. And I’ve just drenched him. Lucian Cross should fire me. Instead, he laughs. And then he invites me to his penthouse.
A blizzard rages outside. Inside, there’s Bordeaux, firelight, and four years of buried tension ready to combust. When he deals the cards for a scandalous game of strip twenty-one, I should walk away.
I should remember he’s twice my age. That he’s my boss. That one night could destroy everything I’ve built.
But I don’t. I lose. Again and again. And when he touches me, commands me, claims me, I want more. I have plans — finish my degree, save for IVF, become a mother on my own. No messy men.
No dangerous distractions. But then his text makes my pulse race. His voice melts every boundary I built.
Now his car idles outside in the January snow, And one choice will keep my life neat and controlled. The other will burn it all down. I think the scandal is sleeping with my silver-fox boss.
Until I realize the truth:
I’m already carrying his baby.
