One Wrong Night With My Billionaire Chief

Jessica Brooks never imagined in her wildest dreams that she'd end up sleeping with her boss.

Watching the newly appointed Chief Michael Sullivan deliver his inauguration speech on stage, Jessica pressed her palm against her forehead, mortified beyond words. If there was a hole nearby, she'd dive right in.

Michael's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unmistakable authority. When those steel-gray eyes swept in her direction, Jessica instinctively looked away.

"I can't believe Chief Sullivan is that good-looking. Wonder if he's single..." her colleague Sarah Bennett whispered excitedly, tugging at Jessica's sleeve.

Before Jessica could respond, another colleague, Evelyn Harris, scoffed dismissively. "Don't even bother. Chief Sullivan's personal life is boring as hell—traditional, even. Last time some female officer brought him coffee, she got transferred to the records room within two days."

"What?" Sarah's face fell. She turned to Jessica. "You think the Chief might be gay?"

Jessica managed an awkward laugh but said nothing.

If they only knew what their supposedly woman-averse Chief Sullivan had done to her last night—how he'd left her completely wrecked—their jaws would hit the floor.

Last night, she'd been called in last-minute to execute a bust on an illegal prostitution ring.

When she arrived at the scene, she came face-to-face with an impossibly handsome man.

He looked to be in his early thirties, tall and powerfully built, with prominent cheekbones and ash-blond hair framing a pair of ice-blue eyes.

He was sitting alone in a private room, his collar open to reveal sculpted abs, his gaze unfocused—like he'd just been drugged.

The overwhelming smell of alcohol in the room made her dizzy. Jessica opened the door and windows for ventilation, then pulled out her badge. "I'm Officer Brooks from Halton Precinct. You're suspected of involvement in illegal prostitution. I need you to cooperate—"

The man slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes burning with an inexplicable heat. He wasn't paying attention to what she'd just said. His focus was entirely on her face—her cheeks, her lips, her neck—before returning to her eyes.

"A cop?" His voice came out low and rough, trembling with barely suppressed tension. "Are you here to help me?"

He stood and took half a step forward, his imposing frame closing in on her.

Only then did Jessica notice his size—broad shoulders blocking out everything else, his body radiating raw masculine energy.

He studied her with suspicion, those ice-blue eyes flickering briefly before he suddenly reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Ma'am, let's talk somewhere else. Trust me, I won't resist." He leaned in close, his scorching breath washing over her ear and neck.

Maybe it was the alcohol fumes, but Jessica felt her body losing control. It didn't help that the man in front of her—his looks, his presence—hit every one of her weak spots.

But reason told her this was a suspect. A dangerous one.

"Fine. Come with me." Jessica forced herself to sound stern as she pocketed her badge, adding a warning: "Don't try anything."

He didn't resist. He let her lead him, his steps slightly unsteady as he followed her through the writhing crowd toward a quiet hallway behind the bar.

His compliance threw her off. This wasn't how suspects usually behaved.

The hallway was dimly lit. A door stood ajar nearby—looked like a storage closet or an unused room.

She couldn't interrogate him in public. She needed somewhere private to question him about his accomplices and whoever was running this operation.

Jessica pushed the door open. It was pitch black inside. Just as she pulled him in and reached back to close the door, he grabbed her wrist and forcefully pinned her against the wall.

His large frame pressed against her, trapping Jessica between his body and the cold surface.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, trying to struggle. She raised her hand to push him away, but he easily caught it with his other hand and pinned it above her head against the wall.

The darkness amplified every sensation. His burning breath, heavy with alcohol, was right there—brushing against her soft lips.

Those ice-blue eyes glowed unnaturally bright in the dark, desire burning wild and unrestrained, thick with hunger.

"Ma'am," his voice was husky and magnetic, "aren't you supposed to help me?"

His lips were almost touching her earlobe.

"I... I'm not..." Her whole body went rigid, her voice so weak even she could barely hear it.

"Don't talk." He cut her off, his nose grazing her cheek—the touch sending electric shocks through her body.

His lips brushed teasingly against the corner of her mouth before finally descending in a searing kiss, his tongue forcefully parting her teeth and tangling with hers.

A strange sweetness mixed with alcohol spread across her tongue. Jessica suddenly felt her entire body going weak.

With what little consciousness remained, Jessica kept repeating, "Stop... please stop..." but her body couldn't summon even an ounce of strength.

That's when she realized—he'd been drugged.

Under his dominant assault, Jessica's struggles became soft and powerless. The hands pushing against him gradually lost their force, and eventually, she found herself unconsciously caressing his broad chest.

His kiss deepened, grew heavier. One hand gripped her wrist tightly while the other slid slowly up her side, kneading her breast through her clothes.

She didn't know how much time passed before he released her lips and kissed his way down her jaw to her neck. Then, with heavy breathing, he roughly stripped away her clothes piece by piece and entered her like a wild animal.

"Jessica? Jessica!"

A gentle shake pulled Jessica back to reality.

Sarah was looking at her with concern. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." Jessica ducked her head guiltily.

The speech seemed to have ended. Michael was nodding slightly, accepting enthusiastic applause from the crowd.

His face remained expressionless, thin lips pressed together, those ice-blue eyes radiating detachment and severity—a completely different man from the one who'd made love to her last night.

Remembering Evelyn's comment about the new Chief disliking subordinates who came onto him, Jessica wanted to die on the spot.

She clung to a desperate hope: the room had been so dark last night, and he'd been drugged—surely he couldn't remember either, right?

She couldn't afford to lose her job over sleeping with her boss. This internship opportunity had been so hard to come by.

The applause faded. Michael stepped down from the stage and began shaking hands with deputy chiefs and team captains, exchanging pleasantries.

He remained stone-faced throughout, those ice-blue eyes scanning the crowd—moving in her direction.

Jessica quickly lowered her head, pretending to focus intently on her meeting notes, though her heart was pounding so hard it might burst from her throat.

God, please, please don't let him recognize me.

Jessica prayed silently over and over, stealing glances toward the stage from the corner of her eye. She saw him walking in her direction, her breathing nearly stopping from tension.

But Michael's gaze seemed to pass right over her without pause, his footsteps never slowing as he walked straight past.

Thank God! He didn't recognize her!

Jessica felt a surge of relief and joy. Just when she thought she'd dodged a bullet, a deep, magnetic voice spoke from directly above her head:

"You must be Jessica Brooks?"