The Fairmont
The Fairmont Olympic’s lobby bar was exactly the kind of place Harper hated on sight. Flashy faux gold accents, dark wood, and soft lighting. It looked like the backdrop of a bad mobster movie.
Or maybe she was just reading into things far too deeply thanks to the man she was meant to meet tonight? Not that he knew she was coming. Gabriel Thorne was a creature of expensive taste. If Harper wanted to get close to him, she needed to swim in his waters.
And it was thanks to influencers-turned-fashion-designers like Akhiko that she even knew where to look.
So, she sat alone, at the bar and waited, trying not to think about how much of a stranger in her own skin she felt. The dress, a loan coming from Akihiko, was arterial red. Smooth satin that flowed to the floor, strapless and with a slit on the right side to her mid thigh.
For anyone else, it might have been a dream. Harper just felt exposed. Naked in a way that had nothing to do with the skin on display and everything about how wrong it felt.
This dress was not her.
She was comfortable in jeans, sneakers, and leather jackets. She was used to the long hours of stakeouts and powdery gas-station doughnuts so sweet it stung her tongue. She wasn’t a woman who draped herself over high end hotel bars and waited for powerful men to notice her.
But this was her last chance. Hendrix had been desperate enough to hire a PI with a freshly minted license barely six months old. And she had been desperate enough to fall back on a honeypot operation.
What kind of name was Meredith Steele anyway?
Apparently, it belonged to a socialite from San Francisco who was in town for a gallery opening. The kind of woman who was at home in The Fairmont and could handle men like Thorne. At least Harper hoped so.
Gabriel Thorne arrived at 10PM exactly. Punctual bastard. And months of combing society pages, online articles, recorded interviews, and countless attempts to get an interview with the man had not prepared her for the reality of him. The Assistant District Attorney was handsome. Stupidly so.
He was taller than she expected—leaner. Warm brown skin with sharp features. Dark hair carefully styled back in a way that complimented his bespoke charcoal suit and forest green tie. He was talking on his phone as he walked through the revolving door of the hotel, like the rest of the world was a stage. Parts moved around him. He was at ease in this place. A smile tugged at his mouth, displaying a flash of white teeth at some other suit who nodded in passing. And his eyes were dark behind glasses that caught the lobby’s low light.
Harper hated him on sight.
She also, annoyingly, felt a pulse of heat low in her belly that had nothing to do with her covert-operation nerves.
Ignore it. She told herself, He’s a target. He’s corrupt. He’s going to let an innocent man go to jail. You have to stop him.
“—I’ll handle it, Frederick. Has anyone ever told you, you worry too much?” Gabriel sounded slightly annoyed as he approached. He leaned against the bar, eyes narrowing behind the thick lenses of his glasses. He didn’t look at her.
“I’ll check it out tomorrow. I’m not going tonight.”
Harper tried to appear busy, lifting a dirty martini she’d really only ordered for show to her lips. It took far more self-control than she’d like to admit in order to swallow the clear, shimmering liquid. Who had decided that olives and alcohol made a good pairing? She wanted to gag. But Meredith Steele wouldn’t gag. She probably liked fucking olives. Disgusting.
Gabriel hung up his phone without saying good-bye to whoever Frederick was. He signaled the bartender, ordering a whiskey on the rocks and drinking it down in one go. Harper tried not to be impressed.
She adjusted her position on the barstool. She even crossed her legs, letting the slit in the side of her gown fall open. The lobby air was a cold kiss on the skin of her thigh. She was ridiculous, like a bad actress in a worse movie.
And Gabriel Thorne still didn’t look at her.
She waited three minutes. And then she sighed aloud and said to no one in particular: “God I hate drinking alone.”
Those dark eyes snapped in her direction.
Got you.
“That seems like a solvable problem,” Gabriel said.
His voice was warm, cultured, with just the hint of an accent that she couldn’t place. The vowels were soft, sentences almost melodic. He moved to the stool beside her.
“Does it?” Harper asked, the smile on her lips the perfect blend of coy and eager. And not entirely false, if she was able to admit such a thing. His eyes dropped to her lips, right on cue. And not an inch lower. Interesting.
“I don’t know. The company in this city leaves something to be desired.”
“You’re not from Seattle?”
“San Francisco, actually. I’m in town for the El Oro collection on display at Kucera.” She extended her hand. “Meredith Steele.”
“Gabriel Thorne.” His handshake was warm and firm, fingers lingering just a moment too long. “So, what brings you down here tonight? Couldn’t get an invite to the sneak peek dinner?”
So Gabriel knew about the El Oro exhibit?
Relax, Harper. She scolded herself. You’ve done your homework.
“You could say I’m here because of… Insomnia. Boredom. And a deep, unabiding hatred of non-vegan-friendly menus.” That sounded like something Meredith would say. Harper signaled the bartender, “Another whiskey for my new friend. And I’ll have what he’s having. The martini was a mistake.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows rose, “A woman who drinks whiskey?”
“A woman who drinks whatever she wants.”
He laughed at that. It was brighter and warmer than she expected.
“I suppose I walked right into that one.” Something flickered in his gaze—interest, appreciation, and the first hint of her hook setting in. “So refreshing. Most women I meet in places like this are performing.”
“And you think I’m not?”
“If you are, you’re better than most.” Gabriel accepted the fresh whiskey and raised it towards her. “To new friends.”
Harper clinked her glass against his, “I’ll drink to that.”
The whiskey burned all the way down her throat. Gabriel watched her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
Time to reel you in.
Two hours later, Harper had learned three things about Gabriel Thorne.
First: he was smart. Dangerously smart. Every conversation felt like a chess match, each of them probing for weaknesses, testing boundaries, looking for the advantage. He asked questions that seemed casual but weren’t. He noticed details—the way she held her glass, the words she chose, the topics she avoided. If she wasn’t careful, he’d see through her before she got what she needed.
Second: he was charming. Genuinely charming, not the slick practiced charm of a con man, but something warmer and more dangerous. He made her laugh. Made her think. Made her forget, for moments at a time, that she was here to destroy him.
Third: she was attracted to him.
Physically at least, a low hum of awareness every time his hand brushed hers, every time his eyes dropped to her mouth. It was a problem.
“I have a confession to make,” Gabriel said as the clock crept past midnight. They had moved to the booths on the far side of the bar. He was sitting close enough to lean into, an arm thrown over the back of the seating.
“Confessions already?” Harper traced a finger along the rim of her glass. Only her third, but she let herself tilt her head back and press into the crisp fabric of his jacket sleeve. “We’ve barely known each other for two hours.”
“Long enough,” Gabriel leaned forward and Harper caught his scent—whiskey and sandalwood and underneath all of that, something warmer. “I came to this bar tonight planning on having one drink and going to bed. I have to meet someone in the morning and then I have court. I should be sleeping.”
“But?”
“But then I saw you,” his eyes held hers. “And I decided sleep could wait.”
“That’s quite a confession,” her lashes fluttered, “Should I be flattered?”
“You should be whatever you want to be,” his hand found hers, tugging it up to press a kiss to her knuckles. And then she felt the bite of teeth as he nipped at the thin skin, pressing against the bone. A delicious mixture of flirtation and sting. “I’m not in the habit of propositioning women I’ve just met, Meredith. But I also don’t usually meet women who make me forget I have court.”
“Maybe you should make a new habit.”
“Maybe I should,” he was much too close now. The arm that had been draped over the seat moved. Fingers threaded through her loose hair, wound between the strands at the nape of her neck and gripped tight. A gasp was pulled through her teeth before she could stop herself.
Gabriel’s mouth was mere centimeters from her own.
“Would you like to come upstairs with me?”
Harper looked at him and felt her heart skip a beat. He was offering himself up on a silver platter. It was perfect.
“Yes,” she said, “I would.”
She closed the distance between them.
The kiss was meant to be a weapon. A red-lipped seal on this bastard’s fate that would get her up into his room. To his phone. Where he’d no doubt leave it charging on the nightstand and she could—
Gabriel Thorne kissed like everything else he’d done that night—with complete focus and total confidence. His mouth was hot and demanding, tongue sliding past her lips with an aggression that bordered on territorial.
His fingers remained knotted in her hair, keeping her from turning away. There was no chance to breathe. Harper felt like she was being consumed.
Shit, I’ve made a terrible mistake.
His other hand traveled down, fingers digging into the thin satin at her waist. Gabriel pulled her close, until she was practically sitting in his lap in the booth.
Oh. Oh fuck.
They were still in the booth.
Harper made a noise against his mouth that would have been embarrassing if she could think of anything other than they were still in public. Would Meredith have made that kind of noise? He seemed damn near ready to fuck her in the lobby.
Abort. No, pivot. Stay in character.
But she wasn’t in control. Not with this. Gabriel kept her there, half panting against his mouth until she almost couldn’t stand it. Until stars were bursting behind her eyes and her heart was pounding in her throat. Then, he pulled back to look at her.
His glasses were slightly askew, pupils blown wide, and somewhere in the scramble she’d gotten her fingers in his hair. It was as soft as it looked, and currently she was gripping it like she wanted to ruin any memory of its careful styling.
Gabriel smiled. He looked dangerous. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive.
“Let’s get you upstairs.”
The trip to the hotel room passed in a three-minute blur of barely contained violence. Gabriel pinned her up against the mirrored wall, his hands trapping hers on either side of her head. His knee slid between her thighs, pressing just hard enough to make that delicious grind almost painful. This time, his lips did not attack her mouth but moved to the column of her throat. She felt the scrape of his teeth, mapping her exposed skin—the curve of her shoulder, the edge of her collar bone, and the swell of her breasts above the fabric of Akihiko’s dress.
It was only the ding of the doors opening that kept him from ripping the soft fabric off of her. Gabriel took her hand and pulled her down the hallway. His hotel room was actually a suite, because of course it was. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a king bed with sheets that was probably in the thousands, a bathroom she glimpsed briefly that featured a rainfall shower and marble countertops.
One night in the room probably cost more than Harper’s monthly rent.
But, she was not Harper tonight.
And she was no longer thinking about her rent or this room or anything really. Because Gabriel was kissing her again. Harper grabbed his shoulders for balance, her fingers digging into the smooth, cool fabric of his suit jacket. She felt the hard muscle under warm skin beneath.
Maybe she could slide her hand into a pocket and palm his phone now?
But Gabriel didn’t even give her a second to strategize. He pinned her back against the door. The handle bit into the curve of her ass and she gave a growl, a damned growl, of discomfort.
“Easy,” Gabriel huffed softly, “I got you.”
His warm touch skittered down along her side, slipping behind her to squeeze at the ache in her flesh. Harper found herself pulled flush against him. His hands were everywhere, teasing and stroking over her body before snagging on the zipper of her dress. It rasped open, a soft parting of metal teeth that bared her flesh.
Satin pooled at her waist, Gabriel’s fingers tugged down further, exposing her in pieces. Stomach, hips, thighs. At last, the red dress fell with a whisper to her feet.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. Those dark eyes traced over every inch: skin, the lace of her strapless bra and panties. Like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.
“Leave the heels on,” He said, voice rough.
Harper raised a brow, “And what about you?”
Something flickered behind his eyes—fast and guarded. There and gone in a second. He covered it with a smirk, loosening his tie. He let it fall to the floor. His jacket came off next, folded and placed over the back of a chair. But when she reached for the buttons of his shirt, he caught her wrists.
“I prefer it this way.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”
“I never said I was fair did I?”
And she let it go. His vanity wasn’t what was important. Getting his guard down enough that she could get her hands on his phone was.
Gabriel picked her up, hands under her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him, their hips slotting together and letting her feel exactly how hard he was. Harper rolled her hips, breath hitching at the feel of his cock with just a few scraps of cloth between them.
Fuck.
He laid her back on the mattress and followed her down. He caged her against the duvet. The weight of his body was considerable. Alarm bells should have been going off. But she could hear nothing over the pounding of her own heart. God. His body… All hard lines and muscle under the bespoke fabric of his button down and slacks. He still had most of them done up, just two plucked open to reveal another inch or so of brown skin and the bob of his Adam’s apple.
“Beautiful.” He murmured, the word sounded like it meant something precious. Instead of the banal platitude that it should have been between two strangers.
Harper reached up and gripped the collar of his shirt. She tugged hard enough that a stitch popped, “I didn’t come up here to be admired. I came here to be fucked.”
Gabriel laughed, that bright sound that didn’t align with everything she knew about him. “Far be it from me to disappoint.”
Gabriel’s mouth tracked down her throat, lingered at her collarbone again, teeth catching on the edge of her bra before he slipped a hand under her spine to undo the clasp. The scrap of lace joined his tie somewhere in the depths of the room. The cool air of the suite hit her bare skin and she arched reflexively, feeling his breath ghost against her nipples. A curse was pulled from between her teeth.
“Sensitive?” He observed, mouth finally moving to the swell of her breast. Gabriel pressed open mouthed kisses over the soft skin before capturing one of her nipples between his teeth. He bit down. And Harper’s brain went offline.
The sound she made was obscene. A ragged, broken keen that seemed to echo in the empty suite and made her cheeks burn. Gabriel hummed against her skin, sounding oh-so-pleased with himself. And then he did it again. Harder, tugging this time.
“Fuck—”
“Language, Meredith.”
Harper almost laughed at that. Almost. His hand was sliding between her legs, hooking the hem of lace at her hips and pulling down. And down, down, down. Past the heels that she kept on. Just like that, she was bare to him.
Gabriel wasn’t tentative.
There was no hesitation or polite brush of touch against her sex. Gabriel slid two fingers deep inside of her with practiced ease. Harper gripped the duvet, fingers knotting in the thick fabric while his thumb found her clit. Her hips bucked up off the mattress, another embarrassing mewl dragged from the depths of her throat.
“There you are,” Gabriel murmured. He kept up his attention, the dual sensations of his fingers and thumb was almost overwhelming. “You’re shaking and I’ve barely started.”
There was something cruel in his tone—wicked and wanting, “Do you think you can handle this?”
“Shut up.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Gabriel’s voice was a purr. He worked her over with a patience that bordered on cruelty. Every time she got close, he pulled release from her grasp. He slowed down. Changed the angle. Made her chase it.
His mouth was back at her throat. Teeth found the shell of her ear, catching at her flesh and tugging. Her hands were all over him. Not to pull off his clothes, but to feel him. Nails raked down his spine, tugged at his hair. She tried to press closer, to change the pace. But, his free hand found her hip, holding her down on the bed.
Slowly, his fingers slid free of her. Harper watched through a haze of need and frustration as he licked traces of her arousal from his knuckles. The smile he gave her felt like damnation. Then, he lowered himself further down on the bed.
Gabriel’s mouth between her thighs was a revelation.
He held her open, fingers digging deep enough into the flesh of her hips to leave bruises. Harper gripped his hair, tugging. But he went at his own pace. Gabriel spread her pussy with his fingers while his tongue explored. He alternated between light flicks against her clit and thrusting his tongue deep inside of her with the same teasing rhythm of his fingers.
“Please—” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Gabriel pulled back to look at her. His eyes were almost black in the low light, catching a few glimmers of gold from the city lights stretching out beyond the windows. Chin slick and eyes blazing, he rasped, “Say that again.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s the idea.” His lips sealed around her clit and sucked.
The orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of electricity. She arched off the bed, mouth open in a wail. Every nerve ending was lit up in white-hot pulses that went on and on while Gabriel worked her over with fingers and tongue. She was shaking by the time it ebbed, boneless and sweat slick, chest heaving.
Gabriel withdrew his hand with that same slow drag against her walls. He held her gaze while he licked them clean. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to push his head down between her legs again. Some small, dark part of her, wanted to hear her name on his lips instead of—
“Ready for me, Meredith?”
“Since you asked so nicely…”
Gabriel swatted her thigh, a sharp lick of pain lacing through her flesh, “Turn over.”
Harper did. She hated how quickly she moved to obey. Her heels dragged against the fine fabric of the bed. Face down in sheets that smelled of starch and lavender, she waited.
Behind her was the clink of Gabriel’s belt and the rasp of his zipper. Then, one hand was on the back of her neck, holding her down, while the other moved her how he liked. Knees further under her hips and spread wide. Until her ass was up and pressed against him. She felt the heat of his body, bent over her back and the length of his cock pressing between her thighs.
Gabriel dragged the head of his cock against her folds, thrusting just a little. Just enough to pull another hitch of breath from her throat.
“Fuck.” The curse felt twice as wicked coming from his lips. Had she heard Gabriel Thorne swear before?
And then he sank into her.
He pushed in with one long, heady stroke that drove the air from her lungs.
“Gabriel—” Harper’s fingers clawed at the sheets. He was thick, the stretch almost too much, and he didn’t give her time to adjust. His hips snapped hard against hers, starting a rhythm that promised violence. Their bodies made obscene sounds in the otherwise silent suite.
“You feel—” Gabriel’s voice had dropped into something guttural, almost animalistic. His grip tightened on her hip, pulling her back against him with each thrust. “Incredible. You feel incredible.”
Harper buried her face into the mattress and tried not to make a sound. She failed. This was supposed to be a job. She was supposed to just ride it out until he fell asleep. Instead, she was moaning wantonly and biting down on expensive cotton. Gabriel’s rhythm faltered in response. His hand left her neck and wound into her hair, pulling her head back. Not gently.
“Don’t hide from me.”
The angle shifted. Deeper. He drove into her with a relentless force that shoved her up the mattress. One of her heels caught his slacks, ripping at the fabric. Her hands scrambled over pillows to grip the headboard. It tapped against the wall in a damning rhythm that matched her panting moans.
A second orgasm was building, heady and slow, deep inside of her. A hot knot of pleasure at the base of her spine. And she couldn’t—woudln’t—stop it.
“I want to hear you,” Gabriel rasped. He leaned over her once more. The hand that had been buried in her hair now gripped one of her wrists, holding her against the headboard. His teeth found the junction where neck met shoulder, and bit. Hard. Pain and pleasure fused together and Harper shattered.
The sound she made wasn’t a moan. It was closer to a scream, wild and primal. Gabriel was growling that fake name in her ear. She felt his cock pulse inside of her, the wet heat of his release seeping in even deeper. Slowly, they sank down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.
Distantly, in the wreckage of her own pleasure, Harper thought: this was a mistake.
Gabriel pulled out of her slowly. She heard him adjust his clothes and felt him roll her onto her back. She let herself be manhandled, like a doll.
He looked down at her. Hair disheveled, glasses gone. When had he removed them? And an expression on his face that she could not read. Something raw. Not just satisfaction. It looked, horrifyingly, like wonder.
“Stay,” he said. Another order.
Harper nodded. She stretched out on the bed, feeling every little delicious ache building deep inside of her. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Not yet.
Gabriel traced one finger down her sternum, along the plain of her belly. He followed it with his mouth, leaving a kiss in the valley of her breasts that was tender enough to make her stomach turn. Then his hand slid between her thighs again, fingers finding her oversensitive and slick, and she gasped.
“Again?”
“I’m not done with you.”
The second time was slower. He had her on her back, her fingers tangled in his hair, legs wrapped around his waist. But, the end result was the same. Her boneless on the bed and his arm wrapped around her hips like a snare.
Gabriel Thorne fell asleep in less than ten minutes. But Harper Cross lay in the quiet, dark room for nearly an hour more. Just until she was sure he was asleep.
Harper turned her head slowly. Gabriel’s face was slack with sleep, the severe lines of his face softened into something reminiscent of boyish. Without his glasses, he looked younger.
Good for him. Now get to work.
Inch by inch, Harper slipped out from under the warm weight of Gabriel’s arm. Her heels had been kicked off somewhere between orgasm two and three. She plucked them from the floor and moved them towards the door. Then it was a matter of collecting her dress and underwear. She didn’t want to be naked in this room any longer. She didn’t want to feel like a—
Whore. A nasty voice in the back of her mind sneered. You just need to collect the payment he didn’t know he was giving.
Shut up. Shut up. This is for the greater good.
Harper zipped up the red satin and checked the bed. Gabriel had shifted, one arm thrown over his face. But his breathing was still deep and even.
Good.
His phone was in his jacket pocket. Passcode protected, but Harper had come prepared—a small device that plugged into the charging port and bypassed security in under thirty seconds. She’d bought it from a contact who didn’t ask questions.
The phone unlocked. Harper began downloading.
Emails. Text messages. Financial records. Everything Hendrix would need to prove that ADA Gabriel Thorne had accepted bribes to prosecute an innocent man.
It took twelve minutes. The longest twelve minutes of her life.
When it was done, she wiped her fingerprints from the phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket once more. Then she took her heels and crept towards the door. She was never going to do this again.
Harper slipped out of the hotel room and padded barefoot to the elevator. She didn’t dare to breathe until she was standing in the lobby. It all looked so silent and empty. The doorman didn’t even bother to look up when she pulled on her heels and stepped out into the Seattle night.
It was over. Her mission was complete. But, Harper hailed a cab with the taste of Gabriel Thorne still on her lips.
