Chapter 1

My oldest brother, Damian Vitale, was supposed to attend an exclusive charity gala hosted by the Larue family, the richest in Las Vegas.

But at the last minute, one of his shipments ran into trouble.

I thought it sounded fun, so I volunteered. Ethan and I slipped away from our bodyguards and went in his place.

It was a decision I'd regret for the rest of my life.

Halfway through the gala, the host's daughter, Isabella Larue, stormed over with a few hulking bodyguards and cornered me.

She threw a blurry photo in my face.

In the photo, a woman in a white couture gown sat on a man's lap, draped all over him.

Isabella pointed at the photo, then jabbed a red-lacquered nail an inch from my nose.

"You bitch! You've got the nerve to go after my husband?

"And then show up at my gala to rub it in my face?"

I looked down at it.

As it happened, I was wearing a white dress tonight too.

But anyone with eyes could see that my second brother, Alexander Vitale, had flown mine in from Paris Couture Week.

The fabric and cut put the dress in the photo to shame.

I took a deep breath. "Isabella, you've got the wrong person."

I pointed to Ethan, who was pressed close against my side, his face a little pale.

"I'm married. This is my husband. I have zero interest in your husband, the man who married into your daddy's money."

Ethan was extremely sensitive to bright lights and noise.

He gripped my wrist, and his breathing turned quick and shallow.

Isabella acted like she'd heard the joke of the century. Her eyes landed on Ethan, and her expression turned vicious.

"Who knows what kind of cheating slut you are? Who says being married would stop you from chasing other men?"

She raised her hand and swung her sharp nails at my cheek.

Crack!

The pain I braced for never came.

Ethan had stepped in front of me on instinct, and the slap landed square on his face.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Ethan!"

My heart ached, and I reached for his face.

Isabella watched Ethan trembling in silence and snorted.

"Oh, so he's an idiot? His wife's cheating on him, and he can't even tell? And he's still protecting her?

"A shameless whore and a mute idiot. A match made in heaven!"

She gave an imperious wave, and several bodyguards, each weighing over 200 pounds, closed in on us, fists clenched.

"Beat them! Drag them to the main hall. I want all of Las Vegas to see what happens when you try to steal Isabella Larue's man!"

Now I was furious. I pulled out my phone and hit Damian's speed dial.

He picked up instantly.

"Damian, someone at this party is picking on your little sister."

"Aww, can't win a fight, so you call for backup?"

Isabella strode over, snatched my phone, and smashed it on the floor.

The screen shattered.

"Brother? Sounds like another lover to me."

Her accusations grew uglier.

"What, one idiot husband isn't enough for you? How many other men are you seeing?"

I ran out of patience.

"Isabella, I'm only going to say this one more time."

I lifted my head and looked her straight in the eye.

"You've got the wrong person. Take your people and leave now, and I'll pretend none of this happened. But if you lay a finger on my husband, you'll wish you'd never been born."

Isabella laughed out loud.

She turned to the watching guests, and the bigwigs and socialites all joined in.

"Did you hear that? A hooker is telling me to get out?"

Stepping in close, she ground her heel into my foot.

She looked down her nose at me. "In Las Vegas, I am the law!

"Hit her!"

A bodyguard's thick arm swung at me.

I squeezed my eyes shut on instinct, but a pair of strong arms pulled me close.

It was Ethan.

He covered me with his body, his arms wrapped tight around my head.

He was having a panic attack. His whole body shook, and he could barely get the words out.

"Don't... hit Nia..."

Thud! Thud!

Fists rained down on Ethan's back. I felt every dull thud.

"Ethan! Let go of me!"

I struggled to break free, tears streaming down my face. "Let go! Your heart's weak. You can't take a beating!"

He shook his head stubbornly. His face had gone deathly pale, and sweat soaked his shirt, but his arms never loosened around me.

"Nia... won't get hurt..."

He even tried to give me a brave little smile.

"If I'm covering you... it won't hurt, Nia."

This idiot. Even now, he can't stand to see me get hit.

"Stop! Stop it right now!"

I screamed at Isabella, my eyes red with fury.

"He has severe heart failure! If you keep hitting him, he'll die!"

Some of the guests and staff exchanged uneasy looks and whispered to each other.

"I saw that dress in Paris last week... I think it really is couture."

"Come to think of it, she doesn't carry herself like an escort."

"Shh, do you have a death wish? Isabella's on the warpath. Who'd dare get in her way?"

Martin, the Larue family's butler, hurried over, sweat beading on his forehead, and spoke under his breath.

"Ms. Larue, the gentleman's face is turning blue. With a congenital heart condition like that, if he actually dies..."

Crack!

Isabella backhanded Martin across the face.

"Shut up! Who asked you?"

She pointed at Ethan, pinned beneath the bodyguards and slipping into shock, and looked at him like he was a dog.

"He's a mental case. What's with the fragile act? Forget one life, I could pay for ten of his! My family's lawyers will call it self-defense!"

She turned and glared at me.

"Drag these two lowlifes to the main hall!

"I want the whole city to know this is what happens when you mess with Isabella Larue!"

The bodyguards seized me by the hair and dragged me toward the center of the hall.

Ethan clung to my hand, his fingers ice-cold.

His chest heaved. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and every breath came in a painful gasp.

They yanked me so hard I fell.

"Don't touch him! He has a heart condition! You're going to kill him!"

Isabella walked ahead, her skirt swaying, and didn't even look back.

"Then let him die."