The Gala

The Sterling & Moss Annual Charity Gala was the highlight of the legal social calendar. It was held at the Museum of Pop Culture, a cavernous space filled with music and expensive champagne.

Julian hated it. He hated the small talk. He hated the networking.

He stood by the bar, nursing a scotch, scanning the room.

Then he saw her.

Chloe walked in.

She wasn't wearing yellow. She wasn't wearing a sensible intern suit.

She was wearing a gown of midnight blue velvet that clung to every curve, sliding off one shoulder. Her hair was swept up, exposing the long, elegant line of her neck. She looked devastating. She looked like a woman.

Julian felt like he had been punched in the gut.

"Close your mouth, Thorne," a partner chuckled beside him. "Who is that?"

"That's our intern," Julian gritted out. "Ben's sister."

"Ben's sister?" The partner raised an eyebrow. "My, how she's grown."

Julian gripped his glass so hard he feared it would shatter.

He watched as Chloe navigated the room. She was charming. She was laughing. And then, he saw Brad.

Brad was a tax attorney from a rival firm. He was slick, arrogant, and notorious for dating paralegals. He had cornered Chloe near the exhibit on horror movies. He was leaning in too close. He had a hand on her waist.

Chloe looked uncomfortable. She was smiling, but her eyes were darting around for an exit.

The "protector" instinct Julian prided himself on flared up. But beneath it was something darker, hotter. Jealousy. Pure, unadulterated, possessive jealousy.

He set his glass down and cut through the crowd.

"Brad," Julian said, his voice like a whip crack.

Brad jumped, pulling his hand back. "Thorne. I was just getting to know your new associate."

"She's an intern," Julian said, stepping between them. He turned his back on Brad, effectively erasing him from existence. He looked down at Chloe. "You look cold."

"I'm fine," Chloe breathed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"You're shaking," Julian said.

He took off his tuxedo jacket. He draped it over her shoulders. It was heavy and warm and smelled like him.

"Come with me," he commanded.

He took her hand—skin on skin—and led her away from the party, out onto the terrace balcony.

It was raining, of course. A light, misty Seattle drizzle. The city lights blurred in the reflection of the puddles.

Julian let go of her hand, but he didn't step back. He trapped her against the railing, his arms bracketing her body.

"Stay away from Brad," he growled.

"I was being polite," Chloe said, her voice trembling. "He was just talking."

"He wasn't talking, Chloe. He was hunting."

"And what are you doing?" Chloe challenged. The adrenaline of the night, the dress, the touch—it was making her bold. "Are you protecting Ben's little sister? Or are you jealous?"

Julian stared at her. Raindrops caught in her lashes. Her lips were parted.

"I am trying," he whispered, his voice breaking, "to be a good man. I am trying to remember that you are off-limits."

"I don't want to be off-limits," Chloe whispered. She reached up, her hands gripping the lapels of his vest. "I'm not a child, Julian. I'm not Ben's sister right now. I'm just me."

"I know," Julian groaned. "God, I know."

He lowered his head.

He kissed her.

It wasn't a tentative first kiss. It was an explosion. It was weeks of shared living, years of sidelong glances, and the frantic energy of the storm crashing together. Julian’s hands tangled in her hair, ruining the updo. Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

For a minute, there was no law firm. No brother. No consequences. There was just the taste of scotch and rain and desperation.

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