4. Send Her In

A WEEK LATER.

Zane:

Cole had mentioned his girlfriend a handful of times before, and she had even met my family, but I had only gotten a glimpse of her once, at the same gala dinner three years ago.

I’d never been interested in who she was, but now I couldn’t get the image of her tear-streaked eyes from my thoughts. And I might have done my own research about her.

Christ. I ran my hand down my face.

“The news is everywhere at this point. I doubt there’s a single soul in Vegas that hasn’t picked up on the bullshit Cole pulled on his wedding day,” Niko said as he stepped into the private lounge, three bottles dangling from his fingers.

His dark hair was slicked back neatly, and his grey eyes fell on me. He handed one bottle my way, tossed another to Tristan, then dropped into the couch across from us.

Tristan stretched with a lazy grin. “Your family’s name is going to stay plastered on the headlines for weeks. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, congratulations,” Niko muttered before throwing back a swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fucking the bride’s sister at the venue is straight out of a cheap-ass p**n plot.”

I didn’t bother replying. Just raise the bottle, let the bitterness burn its way down… The whole scene at the wedding was already enough. Cole had always been an asshole, but he proved once again that there was no bottom to his barrel. Watching him implode in public wasn’t worth my time, so I had completely ignored him and left him to handle his shit.

One thing was certain: he wasn’t walking away with the step-sister either, no matter the pressure her family put on him. The pressure he’d face from my parents and grandparents for the drama he pulled on the family's name would be double the trouble. And I was certain he’d rather pay the bride's family off than face the baggage of what's to come.

He wanted fun, and fun he got.

I didn’t give a damn about his drama, but that didn’t stop me from chasing after his bride as she left the scene. One, I wanted an explanation for the reason why she kissed me. Two, and most importantly, I couldn’t watch her leave all by herself when the sight of her breaking down was visible and tugged at a memory I had been certain I had buried away.

Nikolai dragged his hand through his thick hair. “I’ve seen her before, though. She’s a fucking knockout. Didn’t deserve that kind of humiliation.”

“Like anyone does,” Tristan shot back without thinking. Silence followed for a beat, both of them flicking their eyes to me as if waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t.

“Guess that means she’s fair game now,” Niko said after a pause, flashing a smirk. I cut my eyes to him, soaking him with an unamused stare and finally giving him a reaction. His grin faltered, and he looked away.

I took another sip, and my gaze trailed over to the door of the lounge as it opened and a couple of half-dressed women trickled in. The door swung wider, and the music from the main floor spilled in for a moment before fading again as it clicked shut.

Niko leaned back with a lazy grin, eyes already sizing them up. “Looks like the night just got better.”

One of them, with blonde hair and glitter smeared across her collarbone, slid onto the couch beside him. She traced a finger down his arm, and he didn’t waste time putting his hand on her thigh.

Tristan groaned under his breath, setting his beer down with a hard clink. “Didn’t we say no distractions tonight?” He sounded displeased by their presence, but his eyes betrayed him. He was already checking out the brunette who had curled up in the chair across from him.

I didn’t move nor even budge, and I had no intention of accepting any of them. My bottle was halfway gone, and my patience was thinner than the dress the redhead in heels was wearing as she made her way toward me.

One unimpressed look was enough to have her steer towards Nikolai instead.

“Damn, Zane,” Niko said, laughing under his breath. “Three years without touching a woman, and now you can’t even let one sit on your lap?”

“I came here because we agreed that there’d be no distractions.”

Nike shook his head. “Well, everyone is worried about you,” his tone dropped. “You’ve been completely locked up since Courtney. You don’t even look twice at anyone. And that’s not healthy.” He let out a sigh, watching my reaction carefully to see whether I would explode right there. When he was certain I wouldn't, he continued, “So Tristan and I decided to help—”

“Get my fucking name out of that,” Tristan cut in, glaring hard at Niko. “This was all your brilliant idea, not mine.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t agree,” Niko shot back, the blonde still clinging to him, grinding against his lap like she wasn’t hearing any of this. “He needs to loosen up before he explodes.”

“Explodes?” I stared hard at the bottle of beer and cursed low under my breath, “So your genius idea was to drug me?”

“Jesus, no.” He raised both hands immediately. “I would never go that far. There's not a drop of drug in that beer, I promise. You are probably feeling tired, but it isn't drugs. I figured—hell, I found someone respectable, a model and she's someone who wouldn't drag your name later on. She’s clean and agreed to help. Sex only. Plus, she’s on the pill. And an extra plus, there’s a box of condoms just in case.”

I gritted, brushing my fingers through my thick hair. “How long have you been planning this?”

He made a gesture of counting with his fingers, “Like eight days back.”

Tristan groaned. “This was all Niko. I swear.”

Niko shot him a glare. “Quit throwing me under the bus.”

Their voices went on, but I couldn't concentrate on anything anymore. I was beyond furious that they had gone this far without telling me.

I dragged a hand down my face. “You’re both fucking insane.”

The laugh that left Niko was low. “It's going to be one night. That’s all.”

Reaching for my suit, I grabbed it and stood up, walking towards the door, beyond pissed and knowing the longer I spent here, the higher the urge to snap something.

This had dragged on long enough. I was done with everyone sticking their noses into my sex life.

Grandfather wouldn’t shut up about producing an heir. Mom, of course, was worried I’d never want to marry anyone again after that disaster of a night when I tried to propose to my ex. As for my friends, they were simply worried about how I've been handling my sex life for the past three years.

The media had been even worse by spreading rumors that I was impotent or that I preferred men! just because no one had seen me with anyone since Courtney.

I was sick of explaining myself. None of it had anything to do with my ex. I simply wasn’t interested, and that should have been enough to stop anyone from pushing further.

But I’ve also realized that the more stubborn I played, the more relentless they'd be.

I raked my fingers through my hair. After this night, I'm done with their games.

My fingers gripped the handle, and just before I could step out, I suddenly asked, “What’s her name?”

“Huh?”

“The model,” I spat. “You set this shit up; at least tell me her name.”

“Bella.” Niko finally answered, checking the time on his wristwatch, “She should be here in five minutes. I'll send her down to your room.”

I let out a slow breath and nodded once. “Fine. Send her in.”

Niko smirked, clearly pleased that I’d finally given in. “Atta boy.”

✦✦✧✦✦

Stephanie:

“Booze 99?!” I slid my glasses higher by gripping the rim and hissed as Sloane practically dragged me out of the taxi. “A club? That’s your best idea? I don't even have a single penny to waste!”

Sloane laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. Yes, again. And yes. Girl, chill; the bills are on me.” Her hands gently brushed my shoulders as she turned me to face her. “You need this, because truthfully, sitting at home crying over your ex and your stepsister isn’t helping anyone. I mean, just look at your eyes.”

I groaned and shook my head. “Oh my God, yes, I did cry, but it's because some hostel trolley rammed into my waist, and it still hurts.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just can’t leave you alone. When I came in, you were basically on the floor drinking apple juice, with both eyes all red. The juice wasn't even cold!”

It’s been seven days since the wedding that never happened.

“I wasn’t crying,” I muttered, tugging at my pajamas. She’d basically barged into my apartment and dragged me out, fully aware I wasn’t dressed for a night out.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Sure. Come on, before I drag you in by your hair.”

She chuckled and looped her arm through mine, pulling me toward the entrance where bouncers stood outside, dressed in complete black and standing in the dark.

Sloane smiled at one of them, and he let us in.

The moment we got inside, she pulled me through the crowd, and I couldn’t help but wince at the loud music from the speakers and the disco ball reflecting blue, green, and red light across every moving body.

I pressed my eyes close and sighed.

Sloane didn’t wait for me to adjust. She leaned over the bar and shouted something at the bartender, who nodded and quickly handed her a couple of drinks. One ended up in front of me.

I scrunched my nose and shook my head before yelling across the music, “I'm not drinking that.”

Sloane leaned in, smiling like she hadn’t heard a word. “Huh? Say that again? I didn’t catch it!”

“I said I’m not drinking that!” I repeated, louder this time.

Sloane tilted her head, pretending to examine the lights above. “Mmm… yes, it’s cool… I love the music too, and you know, the disco ball.” She slid the glass closer to me anyway, ignoring my glare.

I narrowed my eyes. “Sloane—”

“Huh? What’s that? Speak up!” She interrupted, chirping while holding back a smile.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I said—never mind!”

Sloane giggled, leaning over to tap the glass with her fingers. Her hazel eyes shifted to me, and they turned warm. “Just one drink, Steph. I really just want you to forget everything for tonight. Come on, live a little.”

Despite my reluctance, I eventually picked up the glass and took a sip.

My eyes squinted shut as the sharp taste of the vodka warmed my throat, making me cough slightly.

Without dwelling much on the aftermath I’d suffer from a hangover tomorrow morning; I finished the first glass.

I was slightly grateful she had dragged me here; left to me, I wouldn't have come over. And would probably be in my bedroom, wondering what to do next with my life.

Everything had been planned out from the start, but I watched it all turn into nothing. Cole proposed to me exactly five months ago, and my mom was admitted to the hospital a week later after I found her slumped on the living room floor, unconscious. She’d been admitted to the same hospital I worked at.

The doctors said she needed a kidney transplant because both of her kidneys were failing—chronic kidney disease. At the time, I didn’t have a single penny to my name. My hospital paycheck for a month barely scraped ten thousand dollars.

So when Cole's family decided to push the wedding up and fund everything, I was relieved. The plan was to get married to him, take the Wright family’s name, and secure the loan of four hundred forty-six thousand five hundred dollars that Mom needed for her surgery.

In my own way, I was taking advantage of Cole, but it didn’t feel wrong. I loved him, yes—but I also saw an opportunity and grabbed it with everything I had.

How would I have known that the careful plan I made was already in shambles exactly two months after my engagement?