Chapter 1

Jane's POV

"To Jane James, the undefeated!" Brynn's voice carried across the table.

The private room at The Velvet buzzed with celebration—we'd just won the Richardson merger case.

I smiled, letting the praise wash over me. In the year since I returned to the country, I have become a renowned and undefeated lawyer.

Then I saw him—Hunter Huxley, sitting in the adjacent booth.

His gray-blue eyes, thick eyebrows, and chiseled jawline formed an undeniably handsome face. The muscular definition in his arms and his broad shoulders conveyed a sense of strength.

Even in such a noisy environment, he exuded an overwhelming sense of dominance and charisma that left people breathless.

My heart did that familiar stutter it had perfected during our years at Yale. Six years of pursuit, six years of observation, six years of perfect poise and an indifferent facade, six years of...

I took another sip of champagne, letting the bubbles burn away the memories.

"Jane?" Brynn touched my arm. "You okay?"

I stood, wobbling slightly on my heels. "Perfect. Just need some air."

Somehow, my feet seemed to have a mind of their own. Instead of heading towards the door, they wobbled towards Hunter's booth.

"The great Hunter Huxley," Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, I, fueled by frustration, directly sat down on his lap. "Tell me, are you impotent?"

A strange light flashed in his eyes, and his steady voice carried a hint of huskiness. "Consider your professional image, Miss James. Your colleagues are watching."

I laughed at myself mockingly. Do I still have any dignity left in front of him?

All my classmates knew I spent a fortune chasing after that jerk, but I didn't get anything in return. After graduating from college, I left the country in despair, vowing to beat him in his own field!

But thinking about those six years, the more I thought about it, the more resentful I became. I bit his neck hard.

"You're drunk." He frowned, his large hand gripping the back of my neck to pull me away, his gaze deep and restrained.

"And you're still a coward." I grabbed his suit collar and roared, watching his jaw tighten.

His hand gripped my arm, not quite gentle. "Let them take you home."

"I want you to take me back!" I pressed my head against his chest, my commanding tone tinged with a bit of coquettishness.

He pressed his fingers firmly against my head, loosened his tie, and irritably grabbed my arm, walking out.

Our colleagues also noticed the commotion from my side. Everyone in both the legal and political circles knows that we don't get along. From the corner of my eye, I saw two colleagues stand up and start walking over, but perhaps seeing that I wasn't putting up much resistance as I wobbled unsteadily behind him, they stopped. By the time we reached the parking lot, my high heels could no longer endure the swaying and I started to topple to one side. Hunter quickly steadied me by grasping my elbow.

A jolt of electricity ran through my arm as I stared at that strong hand. It had been nine years, and this scene had only existed in my dreams before.

I slowly raised my head to look at him, while my other hand instinctively hooked around his neck, and I stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

I felt his back tremble slightly. He firmly gripped my waist and pushed me away, his tone slightly raised: "Jane, if you keep this up, I'll sue you for sexual harassment."

"Are you really impotent? Never mind, I'll find someone else to satisfy my desires." I angrily bit my lip.

Then I reached out to wave at a passing man, but before I could make a sound, he grabbed my wrist. But his grip wasn't as firm as it could have been, and his breathing wasn't quite as steady as usual.

"Get in the car."

He looked at me with a grim expression, opened the car door with one hand, and not at all gently shoved me inside.

We drove straight to his apartment. The moment I stepped inside, I kicked off my heels and tossed my bag carelessly onto the couch. He loosened his tie further, then grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the counter and lit one.

“Still hiding behind smoke, Hunter?” My voice was sharp, dripping with mockery. I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching as he took a slow drag, the tip glowing red.

He exhaled a plume of smoke, those gray-blue eyes locking onto me with that infuriating calm. “Still chasing things you can’t have, Jane?” His voice was low, tinged with a hint of derision.

I let out a cold laugh and stepped closer, my skirt brushing against my thighs. “Oh, I’ve had plenty. Just not you. Yet.” My words were a jab, a challenge, and I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

He set the cigarette in the ashtray and turned to face me fully. “What’s the point this time, Jane? To embarrass yourself? To prove something?”

I gave a bitter smile, the sound bright and cutting, stepping closer until I could smell the faint tobacco on his breath, mixed with the cedarwood of his cologne. “Maybe I just want to see if there’s anything worth proving under all that smug bullshit.” My fingers grazed his chest, then tugged at his collar. “Or maybe I’m just tired of waiting for you to grow some balls.”

His hand shot up, catching my wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop me. His grip was warm, steady, and for a moment, I thought he’d push me away again. But his eyes darkened, the gray swallowed by his pupils, and his breath hitched, betraying him. “Careful what you wish for,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

I yanked my wrist free, but only to grab his shirt and pull him closer, my lips crashing into his with nine years’ worth of pent-up fury. He didn’t hesitate this time—his hands seized my hips, possessive and rough, pulling me against him as he kissed me back with raw dominance.

We stumbled toward his bedroom, shedding clothes like shackles. My skirt hit the floor, followed by his shirt, buttons popping in our haste. I shoved him onto the bed and straddled his hips, nails raking across his chest, feeling his taut muscles tense beneath my touch. He was all power and restraint, but the way he ran his hands over my skin told me that restraint was crumbling fast.

“Look at you,” I taunted, breathless, grinding my hips against the hardness straining in his pants. “Finally showing some spine.” My hand slid down, teasingly unzipping him, watching his eyes narrow as I freed his cock—thick, heavy, already throbbing in my grip. I smirked, stroking him once, twice, relishing the way his breath caught. “Guess you’re not completely useless down here after all.”

“Keep talking,” he shot back, voice tight with that sarcastic edge I loved to hate. In one swift move, he flipped me onto my back, his weight pinning me to the mattress. “You’ll regret it when you’re screaming my name.” His hand slipped between my thighs, finding my soaked panties, and he let out a low, approving growl. “Fuck, Jane. You’ve wanted this bad, haven’t you?”