The frosted glass of the bathroom was misted over, obscuring the view. Jasmine Shaw leaned heavily against the edge of the bathtub, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

A name slipped from her lips, and the hand that had been adjusting her shoulder strap froze.

With a sudden click, the bathroom light flicked on.

"Miss Shaw, are you doing this to get back at Owens Ryan?" The question was sharp, laced with a mocking chill.

Jasmine snapped back to reality.

She lifted her eyes, still clouded with lingering desire, to meet the gaze of the man before her.

Through the haze of steam, his brows were slightly raised; his skin was flawless, like porcelain, and his deep amber eyes were riveted on his handsome face, his entire demeanor radiating an aloof elegance.

He was the man every woman in Sterling City dreamed of.

And now, she was sharing a bathtub with him! They had almost just...

Jasmine swallowed hard as her clarity began to return.

Just half an hour ago...

She had attended her ex-boyfriend's engagement party.

No one had invited her, but she had pulled some strings to get in.

In a secluded corner, unnoticed by anyone, she drowned herself in glass after glass of red wine.

Everyone else was celebrating, dancing and swaying, and in her drunken haze, she had flung herself at Michael Jennings's neck.

If Owens could abandon their four-year relationship in a heartbeat just to be with a rich girl, why couldn't she let go?

Between a man and a woman, it's either an endless tangle of interests or a relentless pursuit of pleasure. No one stays without expecting something in return.

Her heart was broken, her spirit crushed, but in that instant, she saw things clearly.

In a reckless fit, she had wanted to let loose—

"Answer me."

Michael leaned in closer, his lips no longer pressing against her in passion but lightly brushing her neck. "Were you using me?"

Using him?

To be fair, the moment she wrapped her arms around his neck, she knew who he was.

A celebrated lawyer with a stellar reputation, a mogul with vast assets, and the elder brother of her ex-boyfriend's soon-to-be wife.

Indeed the perfect candidate to exact her revenge on Owens.

But choosing him, throwing herself into his arms-perhaps it was more the alcohol and his allure at work.

So when Michael questioned her, towering over her, Jasmine nodded, then shook her head.

Michael let out a cold laugh, abruptly standing up from the bathtub. He grabbed the robe beside him and walked out of the room.

The heated passion in the bathtub was finally extinguished.

Jasmine watched his tall figure retreat, and slowly stood up from the water.

Her clothes were soaked, clinging to her body, the outline underneath barely visible. If it hadn't been for that ill-timed name slipping out, they might have already...

She followed him out of the bathroom, stopping near the deep blue sofa. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jennings. I think I drank too much..."

The man said nothing, his eyes burning as they took in every inch of her from top to bottom, a cold smile playing on his lips.

The air grew thick with silence.

He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily as he spoke, "You tried to seduce me, provoke me, kiss me, even sleep with me, just to disgust Owens?"

His tone had shifted from a question to a statement.

Before Jasmine could reply, he handed her a set of clean clothes. "Put these on. I'll take you home."

Jasmine didn't argue. She turned and went back into the bathroom, dried herself with a disposable towel, changed into the clean clothes, and bundled her wet ones to throw them in the trash.

When she came back out, Michael had already stubbed out his cigarette.

The air was still heavy with tension, as if their earlier intimacy was a distant memory.

Michael handed her his coat without a word. She took it, and they walked in silence to the private elevator that led to the underground garage.

Aside from asking for her address, Michael didn't speak.

He drove a Rolls-Royce Phantom, his focus on the road, brow slightly furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.

Jasmine stole glances at him, wondering: A man like him, blessed with wealth and charm, must surely have countless women at his beck and call.

That encounter in the bathtub, the way he handled it, must have come from experience. Even in her sobriety, she couldn't shake off the feeling of that moment.

"Is this the place?"

Michael asked as the car slowed near her destination.

"Thank you."

He didn't reply, simply extending a business card with his long fingers.

Jasmine hesitated for a moment. She knew what this gesture meant-an unspoken invitation between a man and a woman.

But she didn't expect that even now, Michael would still want something more. Although, a part of her wanted it too.

But she was sober enough to know that Michael was not a man she could afford to get involved with.

She handed the card back, "No, thank you, Mr. Jennings, I had too much to drink tonight."

Michael didn't argue.

He nodded slightly, got out of the car, and open the door for her, as if nothing had happened, and their flirtation in the bathtub was just a dream.

He was simply a gentleman, opening the door for her.

Jasmine was at ease; she lifted her legs slightly, rising from her seat, and gracefully waved at him with a casual gesture.

Michael's sharp eyes flickered over her one last time, then he nodded politely and drove away.

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom slowly disappeared from view.

Jasmine stared after it, lost in thought.

The wind picked up, bringing a chill.

The cool air crept up from her ankles to her warm chest.

It was only then she realized she was still wearing his jacket.