The flight back to New York was quiet. Too quiet.
Morgan barely spoke, keeping her attention fixed on her laptop, responding to emails and making calls in clipped, businesslike tones. Claire could still feel the tension radiating off her. The visit to her father's house had clearly shaken her more than she let on.
Claire wanted to talk about it—to comfort her—but she knew Morgan well enough now to understand that pushing wouldn't get her anywhere. Morgan needed distractions, not sympathy.
So when Morgan suddenly suggested they attend the Celestial Soirée that evening, an extravagant event attended by New York's wealthiest elite, Claire knew exactly what she was doing.
A distraction.
A way to bury what had happened in Los Angeles.
And for now, Claire would play along.
---
After dropping Claire off at the penthouse, Morgan had left without much explanation, saying she needed to wrap up work at the office before the gala.
A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.
Claire opened it to find Vincent, Morgan's ever-loyal driver and personal guard, standing there holding an elegant black garment bag.
"Ms. Morgan wanted you to wear this tonight," he said, stepping inside and carefully draping the bag over the back of the couch.
Claire arched an eyebrow. "She just assumes I'll go?"
Vincent gave a small, knowing smile. "Ms. Pierce rarely takes no for an answer."
Claire smirked but didn't argue. Instead, she unzipped the bag, and her breath hitched.
Inside was the most stunning gown she had ever seen—a deep sapphire blue, made of shimmering silk that cascaded like liquid with every movement. The neckline was elegant but daring, and the slit up the side promised just the right amount of intrigue.
"She really knows how to pick a dress," Claire murmured, running her fingers over the fabric.
Vincent nodded. "She does."
Claire turned to him. "Where is she now?"
"Still at the office," Vincent replied. "She'll meet you at the gala."
Claire hummed, glancing back at the dress. "Guess I should get ready then."
---
Later that night, Vincent pulled up in front of the grand venue where the Celestial Soirée was being held. The building itself was a masterpiece—marble pillars, glass chandeliers visible through the towering windows, and a red carpet leading up the steps where photographers and reporters swarmed like vultures.
Claire felt a mix of nerves and excitement. She wasn't used to this world of high society, but she had to admit—wearing a dress like this, stepping out of a luxury car, feeling the energy of the night—it was exhilarating.
And then—
Her breath caught as she saw her.
Morgan stood at the entrance, waiting.
For the first time since they met, Claire saw her in something other than her usual power suits.
She was wearing a dark crimson dress, one that clung to her curves in all the right places. The plunging neckline was both bold and refined, and the slit in the dress revealed just a teasing glimpse of her toned legs. Her dark hair was swept up into an elegant yet slightly tousled updo, with loose strands framing her sharp, breathtaking features.
She looked stunning.
Morgan's green eyes met hers, and for the first time in days, a small smirk curved her lips.
Claire barely registered Vincent opening her door—her feet moved on their own as she stepped onto the red carpet. Cameras flashed in rapid succession, voices calling Morgan's name, but Morgan's attention remained solely on her.
As Claire approached, Morgan extended a hand, her voice smooth as velvet.
"You look exquisite, *darling*."
Claire slid her fingers into Morgan's, allowing her to pull her in just a little closer. "You're one to talk," she murmured. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before."
Morgan chuckled, low and rich. "Then consider yourself privileged."
The way she was looking at Claire sent a shiver down her spine.
A camera flashed again, and Claire barely resisted rolling her eyes. "Is it always like this?"
Morgan smirked. "Welcome to my world."
With that, she guided Claire inside, their fingers still loosely intertwined.
‐-------
The Celestial Soirée was in full swing.
Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the grand ballroom, the sound of clinking glasses and polite laughter filling the air. Morgan navigated the sea of New York's elite with practiced ease, seamlessly moving from conversation to conversation—shaking hands with billionaires, exchanging sharp-witted remarks with judges, and charming politicians with her signature smirk.
Claire, meanwhile, stayed close, watching Morgan work the room with effortless grace. It was impressive, almost hypnotic, the way she commanded respect and attention without even trying.
But as the night stretched on, Claire noticed the subtle signs of exhaustion creeping in. The way Morgan's smirk didn't quite reach her eyes anymore, the way her fingers toyed absently with the stem of her champagne glass.
Then, as a senator droned on about his latest real estate venture, Morgan suddenly leaned in close to Claire, her breath warm against her ear.
"I'm done with this," she murmured. "Let's get out of here."
Claire arched a brow. "The gala's not over."
Morgan's lips curled into a smirk. "For us, it is."
Without another word, she took Claire's hand and led her toward the back of the venue, weaving through the crowd with quiet determination.
------
The back hallway of the gala was dimly lit, far removed from the glitz and chatter of the main event. It was quieter here, the hum of the party muffled by thick walls and expensive decor.
Morgan didn't stop until they reached a secluded alcove just past the kitchens.
Claire glanced around, nerves prickling. "Morgan, someone might—"
Her words were cut off as Morgan suddenly pressed her against the wall, her body flush against Claire's, her hands bracketing either side of her head.
"Let them," Morgan purred, her emerald eyes dark with intent.
Claire swallowed hard. "You're insane."
Morgan smirked. "And you love it."
Her lips ghosted over Claire's jaw, trailing down to her neck, sending shivers dancing down her spine.
Claire's hands instinctively gripped Morgan's waist. "This is reckless."
Morgan's fingers traced along Claire's thigh, slipping beneath the slit of her dress. "It's thrilling."
Claire let out a shaky breath, her resolve slipping with every teasing touch. "Someone could see us."
Morgan's lips brushed against hers, featherlight. "Then you better stay quiet, darling."
The challenge in her voice sent a rush of heat through Claire's body.
And then—
Morgan kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't slow. It was a claim—possessive, demanding, filled with weeks of tension and unspoken desire.
Claire's fingers dug into Morgan's dress as she kissed her back, her initial hesitation melting away. The danger of getting caught only made it more intoxicating.
Morgan's hand slid higher, her touch both commanding and teasing. Claire gasped against her lips, her body arching into her.
Morgan chuckled. "You're so responsive."
Claire bit her lip, trying to stifle the sound threatening to escape her.
Morgan smirked. "Good girl."
Her praise sent another wave of heat through Claire.
Morgan's fingers moved with calculated precision, her touch slow yet unrelenting. Each motion sent waves of pleasure rolling through Claire's body, her breath hitching, her back arching against the wall.
She wanted to cry out—to let herself go completely—but Morgan was a step ahead.
Just as a desperate moan threatened to escape Claire's lips, Morgan swallowed the sound with a deep, possessive kiss.
"Shhh," Morgan whispered against her mouth, her voice thick with amusement. "We wouldn't want the esteemed guests of the Celestial Soirée to hear how good I'm making you feel, now would we?"
Claire's nails dug into Morgan's shoulders as she fought to keep control, but it was useless. Morgan had her completely unraveled.
Morgan's lips brushed against her ear, her breath warm and teasing. "You're so wet for me," she murmured, her fingers curling just right, making Claire's entire body tremble.
Claire barely managed to suppress a whimper. "Morgan—"
Morgan smirked against her skin. "Yes, *darling*?"
Claire couldn't form words—could barely think—as the pleasure built higher and higher, the thrill of their stolen moment making it all the more intense.
She was close, so close—
Then—
Morgan suddenly pulled away, her fingers withdrawing, leaving Claire breathless and trembling.
Claire's eyes snapped open in protest. "W-What—"
Morgan grinned wickedly. "We wouldn't want to be too obvious, would we?" She ran her thumb over Claire's swollen lips. "Consider this a little lesson in patience."
Claire's chest heaved, frustration and desire warring within her.
Morgan leaned in, pressing a final kiss to her neck. "But don't worry, *darling.* I'll finish what I started. Later."
With that, she straightened her dress with practiced ease, looking as poised and untouched as ever.
Claire, on the other hand, felt utterly wrecked.
Morgan chuckled at her flustered state. "Come now, let's not keep New York's elite waiting."
Claire swallowed hard, gathering herself before adjusting her gown. As much as she wanted to stay hidden in the shadows, she knew Morgan was right.
Taking a deep breath, she followed Morgan back into the heart of the gala, the heat of their encounter still buzzing beneath her skin.
No one suspected a thing.
No one knew that beneath the perfect poise, beneath the dazzling smiles and effortless charm—
Morgan Pierce had just utterly ruined her in the dark.