MARRYING MY FIANCÉ’S BROTHER

POV: AUDREY 

"If you step out of this VIP lounge to meet her, Carter, don’t bother coming back to the altar in thirty days."

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. My tone was smooth as polished marble, cutting effortlessly through the low, ambient chatter filtering through the heavy oak doors of the Manhattan St. Regis ballroom. Outside, three hundred of New York’s most influential elite were sipping vintage champagne. Inside, my world was quietly cracking at the seams.

Carter Cross adjusted the platinum cufflinks on his custom Tom Ford suit, a smirk tugging at the edge of his immaculate jawline. He didn't even look at me. He was looking at his own reflection in the gold-rimmed mirror above the velvet lounge sofa.

"Don’t be dramatic, Audrey," Carter said, his voice dripping with that effortless authority he loved to perform. "It’s Chloe Belmont. Her father controls sixty percent of the deep-water logistics infrastructure I need for the European expansion. I’m giving her ten minutes of my time. It’s business."

"She’s been staring at you like a piece of meat all evening," I said, taking two deliberate steps toward him. The heavy silk of my ivory designer dress rustled soft against the carpet. "And you’re letting her. In front of the press, Carter. In front of my family."

"I’m securing a five-billion-dollar merger." Carter turned, catching my chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed just tight enough to remind me who held the power in this room, then pressed a quick, dry kiss to my lips. It tasted like expensive scotch and utter indifference. "You’re Manhattan’s darling, Audrey. Everyone knows you’re marrying me in a month. Stop acting like an insecure child over a spoiled heiress who happens to hold the keys to my corporate growth."

He pulled away before I could respond, smoothing his lapels. Without a second backward glance, Carter opened the heavy oak door and stepped into the dazzling flash of the photographers’ cameras outside.

I stood frozen in the center of the private lounge, my chest tight, my blood running ice-cold beneath my skin. The silence in the room hit me like a physical blow.

"He’s always been terrible at hiding his greed."

A deep, velvet voice drifted from the darkened alcove near the lounge's private balcony.

I whirled around, my heels digging into the rug. "Who’s there?"

A tall figure stepped out of the shadows, swirling amber liquid in a crystal tumbler. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal tux that made Carter’s attire look off-the-rack. Dark hair swept back, high cheekbones carved from shadow, and eyes so dark they looked pitch-black under the dim chandelier lighting.

Xavier Cross.

Carter’s half-brother. The black sheep. The man the Cross family spent the last five years trying to erase from the board of directors.

"Xavier," I breathed, my posture instantly stiffening as I wiped any trace of vulnerability from my face. "You weren’t on the guest list."

"I don’t need an invitation to watch my brother make a fool of himself," Xavier said, taking a slow, calculated step toward me. His dark eyes tracked over my face, scanning every inch of my expression with unsettling precision. "He’s about to hand Chloe Belmont the key to his empire, and he genuinely thinks he’s the one playing the game."

"Carter knows what he’s doing," I lied, keeping my chin raised. "He’s ambitious."

Xavier let out a low, dry chuckle that echoed against the high ceilings. He stopped just two feet away from me. The faint, intoxicating scent of cedarwood, tobacco, and high-end bourbon wrapped around us.

"Does he?" Xavier leaned down slightly, lowering his voice until it was a lethal whisper against my ear. "Because from where I’m standing, my dear future sister-in-law, you’re holding a wedding dress for a man who’s already looking for an exit."

I pulled back, glaring straight into his dark eyes. "Watch your tongue, Xavier. Carter built Cross Enterprises into what it is today."

"No," Xavier corrected coldly, taking a sip from his glass. "I built the foundation. Carter just put his name on the building because our father preferred his mother's bloodline over mine. And now, he’s about to trade you for a Belmont shipping line."

"He’s not trading me," I said, though the conviction in my own voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. "We’re getting married in thirty days. The venue is booked. The press is ready."

"Then you’d better keep him on a tight leash, Audrey," Xavier said, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes. "Because Chloe Belmont doesn't ask for permission. She takes. And Carter has never said no to a shiny new asset in his life."

Before I could fire back, the lounge door clicked open again.

My best friend and maid of honor, Julianna, hurried into the room, her eyes wide as she clutched her phone. She stopped dead when she saw Xavier standing dangerously close to me.

"Xavier?" Julianna blinked, her expression shifting to sheer confusion before she turned her attention to me. "Audrey... you need to see this. Right now."

"What is it?" I asked, stepping away from Xavier.

Julianna handed me her phone. On the screen was a live feed from a high-society gossip blog. The headline was already flashing in bold red text:

CARTER CROSS AND HEIRESS CHLOE BELMONT SPOTTED LEAVING ST. REGIS GALA THROUGH PRIVATE ELEVATOR.

Beneath the headline was a crystal-clear photograph of Carter entering a VIP elevator, Chloe’s hand resting intimately on the small of his back, her lips inches from his ear.

My breath caught in my throat.

I glanced up at Xavier. He wasn't looking at the phone. He was looking directly at me, a calm, unbothered expression on his face, as if he had already read the script before the play even started.

"Thirty days, Audrey," Xavier said quietly, taking a step toward the balcony doors. "Let's see if your groom even makes it to the church."