Jade's pulse quickened, and she hated that he could make her feel this way—with just a glance, a touch, a smile.
She took a small step back , as if distance could dull the strange pull she felt toward him.
Thomas Jones was magnetic. There was no other way to describe it.
The way he carried himself, the easy charisma in his voice, the effortless way he took up space—he was the kind of man won noticed, and he knew it.
Perhaps worst of all, he was the kind of man who noticed that they noticed.
But Jade wasn't just any woman. Not anymore. She was married.
And she loved Ross—truly, deeply, desperately. He had seen her when she was at her worst, loved her when she was broken, and given her the one thing she never thought she deserved: a future.
How could she betray that? How could she even entertain the idea of soone else?
Yes, Thomas might have been the most handso man she had ever t, but beauty ant nothing if it tempted her to betray everything she held dear.
She was not a whore who would spread her legs for every good-looking man who flashed a charming smile. She had dignity. She had self-control.
And she had a husband waiting for her at ho, one whose love ant more to her than any fleeting desire.
"Of course," Thomas said smoothly, finally releasing her hand.
A faint smile curved his lips—cool, amused, and disturbingly confident. He wasn't angry.
He wasn't embarrassed. If anything, he looked even more intrigued.
He could sll the tension in the air, thick and electric like the calm before a storm. And he wasn't done—not by a long shot. He
had seen the flicker of sothing in her eyes, sothing she tried desperately to bury.
He knew how to be patient. He knew how to press at the cracks until they split wide open. And now, he thought to himself, this is going to be exciting.
Jade took a mont to compose herself, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest.
She stood frozen for a beat too long, her hand hovering above the edge of her desk as she tried to steady herself.
She gulped, her throat suddenly dry, and began taking slow, asured breaths. In and out.
In and out. But no matter how deeply she breathed, the tension refused to leave her body.
There was simply no easy way to handle the overwhelming pressure of being in Thomas's presence.
The man had a dangerous air about him—confident, dominant, and utterly magnetic.
He didn't even need to say a word to stir sothing inside her, and that terrified her.
She hated that her body was reacting this way, betraying her most sacred promises with just a look, a scent, a voice.
She didn't care if she looked obvious. In fact, part of her knew she was being obvious.
Her face was flushed, her thighs pressed together tightly, and there was a distinct heat curling low in her belly.
She felt it—an aching, shaful wetness that made her silently curse herself.
What the hell is wrong with ?
She clenched her fists at her sides, willing her emotions into check. No lines had been crossed yet, and she wasn't going to let that happen.
Not now. Not ever.
She loved her husband—Ross was everything to her. He was steady, kind, dependable.
He didn't deserve a wife who got weak in the knees just because so arrogant stranger walked into her office wearing a fitted suit and a smirk that promised sin.
Finally regaining her composure, she straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and hardened her expression into one of cold professionalism.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Jones? Please be direct—as you can see, I'm very busy today," she said sharply.
Her voice had regained its edge, her tone clipped and efficient. Her body was still a storm of conflicted feelings, but her face betrayed nothing. She was all business now, wearing her mask like armor.
Still, deep inside, a small voice cursed her friend—the sa friend who had set up this eting and assured her that Thomas Jones was a serious investor with a keen eye for opportunity.
If this was just business, then why did he look at her like that?
The way his eyes raked over her body made her skin burn.
It was slow, unapologetic, and far too intimate for soone she was supposed to et professionally.
Jade realized instantly that this man hadn't co just to invest.
No, Thomas had sothing else in mind—and that made her stomach twist with both anxiety and sothing she didn't want to na.
Thomas leaned forward, unbothered by her frosty reception.
He was calm, poised, and irritatingly confident, as if he already knew how this ga would end.
"Thomas," he said, correcting her with a faint smile that barely touched his lips. "As for why I'm here, I'm sure your friend gave you the basics. I ca to invest, Jade."
The way he said her na—it slid off his tongue like silk, slow and deliberate. He let it linger in the air between them like a promise.
He wasn't deterred by her cold deanor. If anything, it seed to amuse him.
His eyes glead with sothing dangerous, sothing possessive.
He could see the struggle in her eyes, the tightness in her jaw, the way her breath hitched when their gazes t.
She was fighting it—fighting him. But in his mind, it was already a matter of ti.
She might be icy now, wrapped in her professional armor, but he could already see the cracks forming.
He imagined her shedding that rigid exterior, one breathless moan at a ti, until she was underneath him, surrendering completely.
Soon, he thought. Soon she'll be screaming his na—Thomas—as he fucked her hard, deep, and without rcy.
She just didn't know it yet.
"How much?" Jade asked, her voice calm and asured, laced with just enough indifference to sound professional—yet not completely disinterested.
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