My “Escort” Boss

The moment Darren Gellar walked into the conference room, I felt the blood in my veins freeze.

The new chief, broad-shouldered beneath his badge and radiating cold restraint, was the very man who had been gasping beneath me last night.

My so-called “escort.”

Last night, in the dim hotel hallway, his body had been burning hot. His shirt collar was open, his eyes unfocused and thick with desire.

Now, those same eyes were sharp as knives as he inspected every officer in the room.

“Attention!” Chief Bob’s booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Darren’s gaze swept across the crowd like a searchlight. I lowered my head as fast as I could, wishing I could shove it straight into my scuffed police boots.

God, please don’t let him recognize me.

Because last night, I didn’t just sleep with him. I also…

Memories exploded in my mind like shrapnel.

I’d been completely drunk, staggering down the hallway when I ran into him. He had clearly been drugged. His face was flushed, his breathing uneven, barely standing as a scantily dressed woman held him up.

She laughed and said, “With a face like that, you could charge at least five grand a night.”

Alcohol flooded my brain. My sense of justice flared in all the wrong ways. I charged forward and flashed my badge.

"Freeze! I don't care how 'big' you are—prostitution is illegal!"

The woman ran.

And I…

I actually mistook the new LAPD chief for a male escort.

I even mocked him. “You could do anything, and this is what you choose? A paid boy toy? Come with me. I’m taking you back to the station.”

Then I used the takedown techniques I learned at the academy, twisted his arms behind his back, and tried to slap cuffs on him.

And then…

That damned door flew open, and we fell into the room together.

The arrest turned into something else entirely.

His burning skin. His restrained breaths. The hoarse groans pressed against my ear as he fought whatever was in his system.

“Help me… If you’re not arresting me, then help me…”

Somehow, I ended up straddling him, completely lost in that wild, uncontrollable rhythm.

“In my unit,” Darren’s cold voice dragged me back to reality, “I value officers who keep their minds clean and focus on their work.”

He stood at the podium, authoritative and untouchable, like an emperor addressing his court.

“I will not tolerate anyone trying to take shortcuts, or anyone attempting to seduce their superiors.”

Beside me, Sarah nudged my elbow and whispered eagerly, “I heard Chief Gellar absolutely hates scheming female subordinates. The last woman who tried to get into his bed? It ended badly.”

My face drained of color.

I didn’t just get into his bed. I tried to arrest him.

I was finished.

Just then, a pair of polished leather shoes stopped in front of me.

My breath stalled.

Slowly, I looked up and met eyes as deep and dark as an abyss. Darren was staring straight at me, his brow slightly furrowed, as if forcing his memory to surface.

“You are…?” he asked, his voice low and magnetic.