Eden's Temptation

Chapter One

Heat lanced down my throat. An inflamed concoction of spicy cinnamon, rubbing alcohol, and literal fire.

"Shots, shots!" Sophia had said.

I wished she hadn't.

I hated chugging. I hated clubbing. Shots were a mandatory thing in our crew, and since we were celebrating my upcoming temp gig, and Sophia's new job at a fancy modeling agency, I wouldn't pass this up.

"Shots, shots!" I'd echoed, cringing as I allowed the foul liquid past my lips.

"Eden, come on!" Nico rushed me into finishing my shot so I'd join him and the others on the dance-floor.

Dancing was another mandatory part of this outing.

I swerved away from the neon countertop to gauge the view. No one was really dancing; instead they raised their phones to capture their antics for social media.

They were the New York City elite—the mid-twenty, thirty-something hotties with money.

"Eden, seriously!" Sophia's sharp voice echoed into my ears.

I winced. If I didn't make it to the dance-floor before her favorite song was over, she wouldn't let me live it down.

I grabbed my mojito for a sip of liquid courage; a gulp of mint would do the trick.

I spotted Sophia's lithe frame from afar, her dark skin reflecting the flashy pinks and greens of the overhead lights. Next to her, Nico ogled a man who'd been grinding his ass appealingly.

I gritted my teeth and pushed away from the counter at last.

Then I smacked right into a pillar; no, not a pillar, a person.

I let out a grunt, but fixed my face into a smile, ready to admit it was my fault—

Oh, wow, she's...something else.

The woman I'd crashed into stood before me, clutching her half-spilled drink, dark eyes ablaze with rage.

"Excuse you," she said.

A few drops of her pink-tinted beverage had released all over her shiny satin shirt, staining the edges where they dipped between her voluminous breasts. She was tall; two, three inches more than me, and I was a measly five foot four.

You little bug, you fucked up my outfit, she was probably thinking.

My lips trembled as I took in her smart beige pantsuit, tight around her thick thighs. The material stopped just above her ankles, exposing tanned legs, and a pair of matching stilettos—where a few more splashes of her drink had landed.

"Oh, shit." I bit my lip as her eyes narrowed on me. "I was definitely not paying attention. I would have noticed someone like...you."

She had a short crop cut of black hair, with angled bangs covering one side of her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and heart-shaped lips. Her long sleeves were rolled up, exposing cryptic tattoos on her arms, and dark-nailed fingers wrapped around her martini glass.

She was stunning. A classy broad with a classy suit that I'd ruined, and expensive shoes that would cost a fortune to clean. She was like a businesswoman out of a stressful meeting, who'd come across an assistant who'd ordered the wrong coffee.

"Clearly," she said. Her scowl was intimidating, yet incredibly sexy. She was pissed, but there was something about that anger that turned me on. "It's not like I'm invisible."

One of her sculpted brows arched as she studied me, waiting for me to lather her in profuse apologies, or to prostrate myself at her feet.

She looked like the type of woman who'd have me tossed from this place with a snap of her manicured fingers, and wouldn't even bat a lash. Like she owned the club.