On the same day her fiancé cheated on her, Chloe went straight to a bar. Drunk and heartbroken, she clung to a man she'd just met.
"Are you sure you want to kiss me? Have you even looked at who I am?" the man asked, his voice calm but firm.
Chloe opened her eyes at his question, slightly dazed. "Who are you?"
The man's features were striking—his sharp, chiseled face exuded both elegance and arrogance. The most distinctive detail was the tear-shaped beauty mark near the corner of his left eye, lending him an almost ethereal charm.
"I'm Horrace Nash, James Hayes's uncle," the man said coldly, his voice colder than ice.
James—her ex-fiancé, who had abruptly broken off their engagement.
Messing with the nephew, then the uncle?
Logic screamed at Chloe to stop, but her body refused to obey. She leaned in and kissed him.
The delicate warmth of the woman’s touch instantly ignited Horace’s desire. He tore at her clothes with practiced ease, his hand sliding between her thighs. "You asked for this," he murmured.
His movements were confident, his fingers skilled, and Chloe couldn't help but cry out.
To Horrace, her reaction was nothing short of an invitation. He kissed her chest while guiding her trembling hand downward.
Feeling him grow harder in her palm, Chloe's entire body burned with a mix of fear and excitement. But inexperienced as she was, all she could do was rub her legs together in a helpless attempt to ease the tension within her.
"Beg me, and I'll help you." Horrace coaxed her, his voice low and commanding.
Without hesitation, Chloe whispered, "Please..."
At her plea, Horrace thrust his hips forward, fully entering her.
A wave of intense pleasure surged through her, making her arch her back instinctively.
Their chemistry was undeniable. But Horrace unconsciously guided Chloe's hand to the scar on his right shoulder. Chloe didn't like the rough, uneven texture beneath her fingers and instinctively pulled her hand away. Horrace let her be.
They went at it all night. By the time Chloe woke the next morning, every muscle in her body felt like it had been tenderized by a skilled chef.
By the time Horrace emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered, Chloe had already slipped into a simple white dress.
She looked stunning.
Horrace gazed at her for a second. Then a thought made him raise an eyebrow. "Did you sleep with me to get revenge?"
Chloe paused for a moment, then gave him a playful smile. "That's right. If I can't be James's wife, becoming his aunt to spite him isn't too bad! What do you think? Care to give me the chance?"
"No," Horrace replied bluntly, his rejection cutting like a knife. It was clear—what happened between them was nothing more than a meaningless one-night stand.
Chloe wasn't surprised. Last night had been a momentary escape from her pain, but a fleeting lapse she did not intend to maintain. She had no intention of tying herself to him, either. She moved past the topic, and said lightly, "Thanks for taking me home last night."
"You're welcome. I have some business to attend this morning. I'll be going now."
"Okay."
And that was it. There were no goodbyes exchanged.
Horrace had made it clear where they stood—just casual hookups, nothing more. It was unlikely they'd ever meet again. So Chloe hadn't expected to see him again so soon.
