The ballroom of the Grand Sterling Hotel shimmered like a gilded cage.
Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto the polished marble floors, casting a warm glow over the sea of designer gowns and tailored suits. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and the faint metallic tang of ambition. Mira Chen adjusted the strap of her emerald-green dress, the silk clinging to her curves like a second skin. The fabric was a splurge, a rare indulgence she’d allowed herself for tonight’s gala—her company’s annual celebration of another record-breaking quarter.
She should have been happy. Elated, even. Her team had just closed a deal that would put them on the map, and her boss had hinted at a promotion. But all Mira could think about was the way Daniel’s hand had been resting on the small of *her* back just an hour ago, his fingers tracing lazy circles that had once made her shiver. Now, those same fingers were tangled in the blonde curls of a woman Mira had never seen before—a woman who was currently laughing too loudly at something Daniel had said, her manicured nails tapping against his chest like she already owned him.
Mira’s stomach twisted. She downed the rest of her champagne in one swallow, the bubbles burning her throat. She needed air. Or more alcohol. Or both.
She wove through the crowd, her heels clicking against the floor, her smile fixed in place like a mask. She could feel the weight of eyes on her—some sympathetic, some smug, all of them knowing. The whispers had already started. *Did you see Daniel with that new girl? Poor Mira. Three years, and he just—*
No. She wouldn’t think about it. Not here. Not now.
The coatroom was tucked away at the end of a long hallway, a quiet refuge from the noise of the gala. Mira pushed open the door and stepped inside, the cool air wrapping around her like a balm. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with racks of fur and wool, the scent of leather and cedar thick in the air. She leaned against the nearest rack, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of a mink coat.
And then she let herself cry.
Not the pretty, delicate tears she’d practiced in the mirror. These were ugly, gasping sobs, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound, but it was no use. The humiliation burned through her like wildfire, scorching everything in its path.
“You know, crying in a coatroom is a new low, even for me.”
The voice was deep, smooth, and laced with amusement. Mira’s head snapped up, her eyes widening as she took in the man leaning against the doorframe. He was tall—taller than Daniel, taller than most men she knew—with broad shoulders that strained against the fabric of his tailored black suit. His skin was a warm bronze, his dark hair cropped close to his head, and his jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. But it was his eyes that held her captive—dark, intense, and fixed on her with an unsettling focus.
Mira swiped at her cheeks, her face heating. “Do you always sneak up on people in coatrooms?”
He pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “Only the ones who look like they need rescuing.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver flask, offering it to her. “Whiskey. The good kind.”
Mira hesitated, then took it. The metal was warm from his body heat, and she brought it to her lips, the liquid burning a path down her throat. She coughed, but the warmth spread through her chest, loosening the knot of tension there.
“Better?” he asked.
She handed the flask back. “Marginally.”
He took a sip, his throat working as he swallowed, then tucked the flask away. “You want to tell me what that bastard did?”
Mira blinked. “How did you—?”
“You’re not the first woman to cry in a coatroom over a man.” His mouth quirked. “Though usually, it’s because he’s refusing to commit, not because he’s already moved on to someone else.”
Mira’s fingers tightened around the mink coat. “He’s my boyfriend. Or he *was*.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I caught him with his tongue down some blonde’s throat. Right there on the dance floor.”
The man’s expression darkened. “And he didn’t even have the decency to take it somewhere private?”
“Nope.” Mira’s voice was sharp. “He wanted everyone to see. Wanted me to see.”
The man exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Idiot.”
Mira let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Well. I should’ve known. He’s been distant for weeks. I just… didn’t want to believe it.”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “You deserve better.”
The words were simple, but they hit her like a punch to the gut. She swallowed hard. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Theo.” He held out his hand. “Theo Reyes.”
Mira took it, his fingers warm and calloused against hers. “Mira Chen.”
His grip was firm, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. “Nice to meet you, Mira Chen.”
She should let go. But she didn’t.
Theo’s gaze dropped to her lips, and Mira’s breath hitched. The air between them was charged, thick with something she couldn’t name. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.
“You know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve never done anything reckless in my life.”
Theo’s mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”
And then she kissed him.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate, hungry, her lips crashing against his with a ferocity that shocked her. Theo didn’t hesitate. His hands came up to cup her face, his fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her back—hard, possessive, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as she had.
Mira moaned into his mouth, her body pressing against his, her hands sliding up his chest to grip the lapels of his jacket. Theo groaned, his tongue sweeping against hers, tasting of whiskey and sin. His hands slid down her back, pulling her flush against him, and Mira could feel the hard length of him pressing against her stomach.
She should stop. She *should*. But the whiskey had burned away her inhibitions, and the way Theo was kissing her—like he wanted to devour her whole—made her forget everything else.
His hands slid lower, gripping her ass, lifting her onto the edge of the coat rack. Mira gasped as her dress rode up, the cool air hitting her thighs. Theo’s mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin.
“Fuck,” he growled against her throat. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
Mira’s head fell back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Theo—”
The door to the coatroom swung open.
“Mira? *There* you are.”
Mira froze, her blood turning to ice. Theo’s head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto the man standing in the doorway—Daniel, his face a mask of shock and fury.
“What the *hell* is this?” Daniel’s voice was a snarl.
Mira’s heart pounded in her chest. She pushed Theo back, her hands trembling as she smoothed down her dress. “Daniel—”
“Save it.” Daniel’s gaze flicked between them, his jaw clenched. “I *saw* you. Both of you.”
Theo didn’t look the least bit concerned. In fact, he looked… amused. He stepped in front of Mira, his broad frame shielding her from Daniel’s glare. “Problem?”
Daniel’s face twisted. “You have *no* idea who you’re messing with.”
Theo’s smile was razor-sharp. “Oh, I think I do.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. This was bad. This was *so* bad. Daniel was her boss’s nephew, and if he told anyone—if he *spun* this—her career could be over.
But then Theo turned to her, his expression softening. “Mira,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “You ready to get out of here?”
She blinked. “What?”
Theo held out his hand. “Come with me.”
Mira hesitated. This was insane. She didn’t know this man. Didn’t know *anything* about him. But the way Daniel was looking at her—like she was nothing, like she was *less* than nothing—made her want to scream.
She took Theo’s hand.
Daniel’s face flushed an ugly shade of red. “You’re *leaving* with him? After what I just saw?”
Mira lifted her chin. “Yes.”
Theo’s fingers tightened around hers, and he led her past Daniel, his shoulder brushing against the other man’s in a deliberate challenge. Daniel stumbled back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Theo didn’t look back.
---
The elevator ride down to the lobby was silent, the air between them crackling with tension. Mira’s heart was still racing, her lips swollen from Theo’s kisses, her body aching with need. She could feel his gaze on her, dark and assessing, but she didn’t dare meet his eyes.
When the doors slid open, Theo led her outside, the cool night air a shock to her system. A sleek black car was waiting at the curb, the driver holding the door open.
Theo turned to her. “Get in.”
Mira hesitated. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.” His voice was rough, his eyes burning into hers. “Unless you’d rather go back inside.”
Mira swallowed. She should say no. She should walk away. But the thought of facing Daniel again, of enduring the pitying looks and whispered gossip, made her stomach churn.
She got in the car.
Theo slid in beside her, his thigh pressing against hers. The driver closed the door, and the car pulled away from the curb. Mira’s pulse spiked as Theo’s hand settled on her knee, his fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin.
“You’re playing with fire,” she whispered.
Theo’s mouth curved into a smirk. “Baby, I *am* the fire.”
Mira’s breath hitched. She should push him away. She *should*. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only woman in the world—made her forget all the reasons this was a bad idea.
Theo’s hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the hem of her dress. “Tell me to stop.”
Mira’s lips parted, but no words came out.
Theo’s smile turned predatory. “That’s what I thought.”
His hand slipped under her dress, his fingers gliding over the lace of her panties. Mira gasped, her hips arching off the seat. Theo groaned, his thumb pressing against her clit through the fabric.
“Fuck, you’re already wet for me.”
Mira’s face burned, but she didn’t care. She wanted this. Wanted *him*. Wanted to forget everything but the way his hands felt on her body.
Theo’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down her thighs. Mira lifted her hips, helping him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Theo tossed the lace aside, his gaze locked on hers as his fingers returned to her pussy, sliding through her wetness.
“So fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.
Mira moaned as his fingers circled her clit, her hips rolling against his hand. Theo’s other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her in for a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as his fingers worked her into a frenzy.
“Theo,” she gasped against his lips. “I’m—”
“I know.” His fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing down on her clit. “Come for me, Mira.”
And she did.
Mira cried out, her body shuddering as pleasure crashed over her in waves. Theo swallowed her moans with his mouth, his fingers never stopping, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling, boneless.
When she finally came down, Theo pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips. Mira watched, transfixed, as he sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Delicious,” he murmured.
Mira’s breath hitched. She should be embarrassed. She *should*. But all she felt was a deep, aching need for more.
Theo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his expression darkening as he read the message. “Fuck.”
Mira blinked, the haze of pleasure clearing. “What is it?”
Theo exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “My mother.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. “Your *mother*?”
Theo’s mouth twisted. “She’s here. At the gala.”
Mira’s eyes widened. “And she saw us?”
“Not yet.” Theo’s gaze locked onto hers, intense and unreadable. “But she will.”
Mira’s heart pounded. “What do we do?”
Theo was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smirk curled his lips. “We give her something to talk about.”
Mira’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”
Theo’s hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Be my girlfriend.”
Mira blinked. “What?”
“Fake girlfriend,” Theo clarified. “Just for a little while. Long enough to get my mother off my back and your ex out of your hair.”
Mira’s mind raced. This was insane. *Completely* insane. But the thought of Daniel’s smug face, of the way he’d looked at her like she was nothing—
“Okay,” she said.
Theo’s smile was slow, triumphant. “Good girl.”
Mira’s stomach flipped. She should be nervous. She *should*. But all she felt was a thrill of anticipation.
Theo’s hand slid back under her dress, his fingers finding her already wet and ready. “Now,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “Let’s give them a show.”
And Mira let him.