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 to the fifteenth floor should’ve taken thirty seconds. It felt like a lifetime. With every floor that lit up on the panel, my common sense screamed at me to hit the button for the lobby and run. But my hand wouldn’t move. By the time the silver doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit, ridiculously posh executive lounge, I realized I was already deep in the trap.

The room was quiet, detached from the rest of the busy office tower. And it was completely empty, except for him.

Jordan was standing by the massive glass window, looking out over the city skyline with the casual arrogance of a man who probably owned half of it. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, he turned around. It was like he’d counted my exact footsteps.

"You came," Jordan said. His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly confident. No surprise, no hesitation.

I clutched the strap of my laptop bag like a shield, refusing to let him see how badly my hands were shaking. "You didn't exactly leave me with a choice, Mr. Vasquez."

He took one slow, deliberate step toward me. He’d undone the top button of his shirt, and without the corporate armor, the sheer physical size of him felt completely overwhelming. "I gave you an out, Derby. You just chose to ignore it the second you stepped into that elevator."

God, I hated how right he was.

But looking at him now, standing under the soft, warm lights of the lounge, my mind didn't see the ruthless billionaire CEO. Instead, it aggressively dragged me back to Friday night. To the dark, chaotic haze of that hotel room where everything had started.

I had gone to that bar looking for a distraction—a cheap, reckless rebound to wash away the bitter taste of my ex-fiancé treating me like a backup plan. I wanted a random guy. A nobody. Someone I could use for one night and forget by morning.

But Jordan hadn't been random. Not even close.

I remembered the way he had pushed me back against the heavy mattress, his massive frame pinning me down so effortlessly it made my breath hitch. He hadn't just taken what he wanted like a selfish stranger. His control was terrifying. He’d paused, his dark eyes burning into mine in the shadows, forcing me to look at him, forcing me to acknowledge exactly who was holding me.

*"Tell me to stop, sweetheart,"* he had murmured against my throat that night, his voice a rough, gravelly command that sent shivers straight down my spine. *"Because if I don't stop now, I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."*

I hadn't told him to stop. I’d pulled him closer, begging for the chaos. And he had delivered—fucking me with a slow, agonizingly deep, and relentless rhythm that made me completely lose my mind, arching my back and crying out his name into the dark like a woman possessed.

But it wasn't just the intensity that scared me now. It was how attentive he had been afterward.

Random guys don't stay awake just to watch you breathe. Random guys don't pull the duvet over your shoulders when the morning breeze hits the room. And they definitely don't do what Jordan did right before I snuck out of his bed.

I remembered waking up in the dim light of dawn, my skin flushed and sensitive. I’d tried to slip away quietly, but as I reached for my clothes, his hand had found my waist in the dark, pulling me back against his warm, hard chest. He didn't even open his eyes, but his lips brushed the small, crescent-shaped birthmark right below my left collarbone.

*"Don't run, Derby,"* he’d muttered sleepily, his grip tightening just enough to lock me in place. *"And stop chewing your lower lip when you're anxious. It's a bad habit."*

My breath hitched in the present day as the memory slammed into me. I instinctively touched my lower lip. I *was* chewing it right now.

Jordan noticed. A small, dark smirk touched the corner of his lips as he closed the remaining distance between us, stopping so close I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. He reached out, his long, scarred fingers lifting to gently brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was shockingly warm, a stark contrast to his icy corporate persona.

"You're doing it again," he murmured, his thumb lightly brushing across my bottom lip, forcing me to stop. "You always do that when you're trying to figure out a way to lie to me."

My heart did a violent, dangerous flip against my ribs.

This wasn't just a powerful man playing a game with an employee. He remembered. He remembered the small, stupid, insignificant details about my body after only a few hours. He had looked at me—*really* looked at me—in a way my ex hadn't done in three years of dating.

A cold splash of reality hit me, terrifying and sharp. This wasn't a messy, forgettable one-night stand that I could just bury under a pile of corporate paperwork. This man was entirely too focused, too observant, and way too dangerous.

"Jordan, please," I whispered, the formal 'Mr. Vasquez' completely evaporating as I looked up into his dark, unblinking eyes. "This is a mistake. You're the CEO of the company buying my life. You're engaged. We can't do this."

Jordan didn't back down. His thumb lingered on my jawline, his grip firming just enough to keep me from looking away.

"I know exactly who I am, Derby. And I know exactly what my life looks like," he said, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl that made my knees feel weak. "But I also know that since Friday night, I haven't been able to think about anything else but how tight you felt around me."

I swallowed hard, my mind screaming at me to run, but my body completely paralyzing under his touch.

"Tonight. My place. Eight o'clock," Jordan murmured, dropping his hand but leaving his gaze locked onto mine, giving me no room to breathe. "The address is already in your private inbox. Come if you want to settle this, or stay home and keep playing this little corporate game. It's your call."

He didn't wait for me to answer. He turned and walked out of the lounge, the heavy doors shutting behind him with a soft, final thud.

I stood there alone in the quiet room, my legs trembling so badly I had to lean against the back of a sofa just to stay upright. Every single sensible, logical part of me knew that deleting that address and walking away was the only way to save my life.

But as I stared at the empty doorway, my skin still tingling where his fingers had touched me, a dark, heavy realization settled deep in my gut.

Jordan already occupied far more space in my head than a one-night mistake ever should have.

That alone should’ve been enough to worry me.

Instead, I kept finding reasons not to think about why.

End of Chapter 5