Chapter One: Evie
“I fucked Joe last night.”
The words drifted out of the bridal suite, slammed into my chest, and dropped like a stone into my gut.
“Shut up, Ashley,” came a second voice, lower, with a razor-sharp edge. Rachel Hoffman. My college roommate and bestie.
I froze in the hotel corridor, too stunned to move. Ashley’s confession gripped me like a vice I couldn’t wrench myself out of.
“If you ruin this day for Evie because you’re jealous, I’ll Samson and Delilah your hair.” Rachel’s voice dripped with the threat. “I’m not fucking kidding, Ash.”
A sharp cramp pulled at the arch in my right foot, but I didn’t dare move for fear they’d hear the rustle of my ridiculously large Cinderella wedding dress, and I absolutely had to know if Ashley was telling the truth because:
1. I was walking down the aisle in twenty minutes with the aforementioned Joe.
2. Ashley was Joe’s ex-girlfriend.
3. This wedding had to happen.
“Why would I be jealous?” Ashley purred. “I’ve been fucking Joe for the past three months. He said Evie hasn’t spread her legs since they got engaged.”
I gasped, and my hand flew to my mouth to cover the noise. Prickly heat spread over my bare shoulders, and I sucked down a tunnel of air, trying to clear the fog this bomb had exploded in my head.
Ashley and I had always tolerated each other, but we’d never been close. Rachel and she had grown up together and they both went to Syracuse University, where I’d been freshman roommates with Rachel. Rachel and I were instant besties, and since Ashley was already part of the group, we had no choice but to be friends.
When I met Joe, Ashley was dating some hotshot hockey player. I didn’t know Ashley and Joe had dated until later, but she said she didn’t care.
Obviously, she was a lying bitch.
Rachel kicked the bathroom door shut with her heel, and I flattened myself against the wall next to it, unseen.
Shitballs.
I pressed my ear against the door, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing. There was an inch crack at the bottom, and I got down on my belly, my skirt billowing around me. I strained to listen, but all I heard were murmurs of voices.
Rachel would be freaking out, trying to figure out how to shut Ashley down and save the day for me. Rachel and Ashley may have known each other longer, but Rachel was fiercely loyal to me (and I was to her).
My heart thundered behind the boning underneath the lace overlay of my dress. I glared at the closed door, debating what to do. I wanted to rip Ashley’s stupid black hair out of her stupid scalp.
The voices grew closer, and the doorknob turned. I scurried to the room across the hall and ducked inside, keeping the door open a crack.
“Not a word,” Rachel hissed, their dresses crinkling as they walked away. “Say it.”
“Fine,” Ashley grumbled, and then they were gone.
I shoved my billowing skirt through the doorway and crashed into the bridal suite. I circled the room, distress and confusion accosting all my senses, making it impossible to think clearly.
Moments ago I’d been in there getting ready with Rachel and my mom, laughing and joking, oblivious to the wreckage ahead.
The guests were outside on the great lawn, taking their places for the ceremony. Obviously, I should call off the wedding, except I couldn’t, because Joe and I did something really stupid.
We eloped five months ago.
I was from Toronto and it had been my idea to get hitched early so I could start the application process for my citizenship before my green card expired.
It hadn’t made sense to let the green card lapse when we were so close to getting married. That’s why we went to city hall right after New Year’s Eve.
No biggie.
Except now it was a colossal biggie. If I walked out on this marriage right now, it could screw everything up. I was in a kind of limbo, waiting for the interview to prove our marriage was legit. Only after that would my U.S. citizenship be permanent and secure. Without out it I could lose my job, my life, everything I’d worked for up until this moment of my life.
Fuck.
Fuckity fuck fuck fucking balls.
I tore at the buttons at the back of my bodice, but I couldn’t undo them. The corset was too tight. My air was constricted, and starbursts flashed in front of my eyes.
I screamed in frustration, yanking with all my might. But the damn dress wouldn’t budge.
“Evelyn?” I deep voice said behind me.
My spine went ramrod straight, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
Ethan Steele stepped into the room, and as he did, the walls closed in around me.
He wore a morning suit and top hat, like some duke in a Regency drama. His dark eyebrows furrowed at the sight of me.
Air. I needed air.
My fingers clawed at the fabric, ripping it, but no air would come. My knees buckled, and Ethan leaned forward, catching me in his arms right before I hit the floor.
I wiggled in his grasp, hating him a little more than usual.
“Stop fighting me.” He gripped my shoulders and twisted me around, trying to guide me and my ginormous skirt over to the small settee.
“Let go.” I yanked out of his grip and fell face first onto the cushions of the sofa, my hoop skirt lifting up and over my ass.
“You okay down there?” Ethan asked above me, a smirk in his voice.
I wore a lace thong, and I was flashing him my tanned ass, but I didn’t care. He could look all he wanted. It was the least of my worries.
And it was a really good ass.
I shimmied to the ground and flipped over, lying on the floor and glaringat him, but then the whole not-being-able-to-breathe thing started again and I gripped my sides. His frown dropped, and he sank to his knees, pulling me up to a sitting position.
“What’s wrong, Evelyn?”
“Stop acting”—gasp—“like you care”—gasp— “and help me”—gasp—“out of this.” A dizzy spell overtook me, and I slumped sideways.
“Please,” I whispered, the last scraps of my dignity floating away. I needed help, and I didn’t care who gave it to me.
Even the most despised man in my life.
