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Chapter 15 - Craving Chaos

All of it was just… too much.

Isabelle's existence. Liam's secrets. Naomi's betrayal. The silence stretching between her and the man she once believed she knew.

Sierra felt like the ground beneath her was crumbling … slowly, but surely …and she couldn't keep pretending to balance. So, she did what she hadn't done in years.

She opened a bottle of the Château Margaux she had been saving for their anniversary.

And she drank.

To forget.To breathe.To stay out of touch with her crumbling world.

The first glass numbed her fingers. The second softened the ache in her chest. By the third, she didn't care anymore.

She lay across the lounge chaise, silk robe loose over her shoulders, the black satin slip underneath hugging her like temptation. Her hair was a wild mess, makeup smudged to seductive perfection, and the lights of the city blinked outside like distant stars.

She wasn't sad anymore.

She was angry.

And horny.

Liam had already called that he will stay late at the office.

She picked up her phone with a tipsy smirk and typed.

Sierra:Come upstairs. Now.

Jace:Ma'am? Is everything okay?

Sierra:I said now. Don't make me ask again.

The elevator doors opened and Jace stepped into the lounge, tension already written across his features. His sharp suit was immaculate, but his eyes…those storm-gray eyes…held a flicker of concern.

He froze when he saw her.

Sierra looked like chaos personified. Bare legs, lips red as sin, wine glass in one hand and robe slipping off her shoulder.

"Close the door," she said, voice honeyed and heavy. "And lose the jacket."

He obeyed, slowly removing his coat and hanging it on the stand near the door.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice cautious.

She stood unsteadily, approaching him. "You are. You're going to help me forget."

"Ma'am…"

"I'm not asking," she said, stepping into his space. "I'm telling."

Her fingers curled around his collar. "Do you have any idea what you do to me when you look at me like that? Like you want to devour me, but you're too damn noble to touch."

Jace stiffened. "You've had a lot to drink."

"So?" she whispered, dragging her hand down his chest. "Don't pretend you haven't imagined this. Me. Us. You… inside me."

He swallowed hard.

"I'm not thinking straight," she whispered, lips grazing his jaw, "but I've never been more sure of what I want."

She reached up and tugged the straps of her slip down, letting the satin fall to the floor with a soft whisper. She stood before him, bare and breathtaking.

"Touch me," she commanded.

Jace closed his eyes, fighting the storm surging inside him. She was everything he shouldn't want …but had dreamt about since the day he met her. Power. Beauty. Fire.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he muttered, fists clenched. "But I won't take advantage of you like this."

"You're not taking," she said, pressing her body against him. "I'm giving."

She kissed him, deep and demanding. His hands found her waist, and for a fleeting moment, he gave in …just enough to taste what he'd been denying.

Then he broke the kiss, breathing heavily. "I can't. Not tonight."

Her eyes narrowed. "Coward."

He stepped back, looking torn. "No. A man who respects you."

She laughed bitterly and turned away, flopping back onto the chaise like a fallen queen. "Respect doesn't keep me warm."

Her voice was softer now, slurring. "Jace… please, F*ck me. I don't want to feel anything else tonight."

She tilted her head toward him, already half-asleep. Her body was vulnerable, exposed, and divine.

Jace watched her as her eyes fluttered shut, heart pounding, need warring with conscience.

He picked up her slip from the floor and gently draped it over her shoulders, tucking it around her like a blanket.

Then, quietly, he walked to the door.

He looked back once.

And left.

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