Married To My Fiancé's Enemy

Lila Vance stared at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror of the bridal suite, her breath coming in shallow, terrified hitches. The woman staring back at her looked like a porcelain doll wrapped in fifty thousand dollars of French lace and misery.

"Stop fidgeting," her mother, Eleanor, snapped from the velvet chaise lounge, not bothering to look up from her phone. "You’ll wrinkle the silk before Marcus even gets to unwrap you."

Unwrap. As if she were a package. A peace offering. A debt payment.

"I can't breathe, Mother," Lila whispered, her hands trembling as she touched the suffocating neckline.

"You don't need to breathe. You need to look perfect," Eleanor replied coldly. "The merger depends on today. Your father’s legacy depends on today. Do not embarrass us, Lila. For once in your life, do something right."

The door to the suite creaked open. Lila flinched.

It wasn't her father. It was Linda.

Her sister glided into the room wearing a maid-of-honor dress that was technically appropriate but tailored so tightly it looked like a second skin. Linda was the golden child—the MBA graduate, the socialite darling, the daughter who could do no wrong.

"Oh, Lila," Linda cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. She walked over, adjusting Lila’s veil with sharp, aggressive tugs. "You look… adequate. Marcus is going to be so pleased"

Lila pulled away. "Get out, Linda."

Linda laughed, a tinkling sound that grated on Lila’s nerves. She leaned in close, her perfume sickly sweet. "Don't be sour. I did you a favor. I convinced Daddy not to let you back out. You should be thanking me. After today, you’ll never have to worry about money again. You’ll just have to worry about… pleasing him."

Linda’s eyes flashed with a malicious glint. She knew. They all knew. Marcus Thorne wasn’t just a businessman; he was a sadist disguised in Armani.

"Five minutes!" the wedding coordinator chirped, poking her head into the room. "The groom is taking his place at the altar!"

Her mother stood up, smoothing her skirt. "Come, Linda. Let’s leave the bride to compose herself."

As they turned to leave, the door didn't latch all the way. Through the crack, Lila heard a deep, booming voice from the hallway. It was Marcus, speaking to his best man.

"She’s feisty," Marcus was saying, his tone slurring slightly, he was already drinking. "But I’ll break that out of her. Once the ring is on, she’s property."

Property.

The word echoed in Lila’s skull, bouncing around until it turned into a siren.

Panic.

It hit her like a physical blow to the chest. She looked at the door. Then she looked at the window.

She couldn't do this. She would rather die than walk down that aisle.

"No," Lila whispered.

She grabbed the hem of the obscenely heavy gown. It was a prison. She couldn't run in this.

Adrenaline, sharp and electric, flooded her veins. Lila reached down, found the slit in the fabric, and ripped. The sound of tearing silk was the most satisfying thing she had heard in years. She tore it up to her thigh, freeing her legs.

She kicked off the diamond-encrusted heels her father had forced her to wear.

Barefoot. Half-dressed. Terrified.

Lila Vance opened the door, checked the hallway, and ran.

The Grand Imperial Hotel was a labyrinth of marble corridors. Lila didn't take the main elevators; they would be swarming with guests, paparazzi, and her family’s security.

She sprinted toward the service stairwell, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Hey! You there! Miss Vance!"

Lila froze. At the end of the corridor, two burly security guards in dark suits had spotted her.

"Shit," she cursed, a word her mother would have washed her mouth out with soap for using.

She didn't wait. She bolted.

She turned a sharp corner, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor. She saw a set of golden elevator doors closing, not the service elevator, but the private lift to the VIP penthouses.

It was a gamble. It was suicide. But she had no choice.

She threw herself between the closing doors. The metal sensors beeped, and the doors bounced back open. Lila tumbled inside, hitting the back wall with a thud, gasping for air.

She slammed her fist against the button for the top floor, the Penthouse.

As the doors slid shut, she saw the security guards round the corner, shouting.

Ping.

The doors sealed. The world went silent.

Lila slid down to the floor, her chest heaving. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. She looked down at herself. The hem of her dress was black with dirt. Her hair, which had taken three hours to style, was coming loose from its pins.

She was a disaster.

But as the numbers ticked upward 20… 30… 40 she felt a strange, hysterical bubble of laughter rising in her throat.

She had done it. She had run.

The elevator slowed. Floor 55. The Penthouse.

Lila stood up, trying to smooth the torn fabric over her thigh. She needed a place to hide. Just for an hour. Just until she could call Sophia, her best friend, to come get her with a getaway car.

The doors opened.

Lila expected a hallway. She expected a lobby.

She did not expect to step directly into a room that smelled of cedarwood, aged whiskey, and danger.

It was a sprawling living area with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the storm-tossed ocean. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the dark, modern furniture.

And him.

Standing by the window, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, was a man who looked like he had been carved out of shadows and sin.

He turned slowly.

Lila’s breath hitched, and this time, it wasn't from panic. It was from shock.

Adrian Sterling.

The Shark of the City. The man who ate companies for breakfast and destroyed legacies for sport. And, if the tabloids were to be believed, the man her sister Linda had been trying to seduce for three years.

He was taller than she imagined. His tuxedo jacket was discarded on a chair, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that were corded with muscle. But it was his eyes that froze her—steel gray, cold, and utterly devoid of mercy.

He didn't look surprised. He looked… annoyed.

"I wasn't aware room service included runaway brides," his voice was deep, a baritone rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

Lila stood frozen in the elevator threshold. "I… I’m sorry. I took the wrong elevator."

"Did you?" Adrian took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes raking over her form. He took in the torn dress, the bare feet, the heaving chest. "You look like you’re fleeing a crime scene, Miss Vance."

He knew who she was. Of course he did. He was Marcus’s biggest rival.

"Please," Lila said, her voice trembling. She stepped out of the elevator, the doors closing behind her. "I just need to hide. Just for a moment. Please don't call security."

Adrian turned fully toward her, leaning back against the glass window. The storm raged behind him, making him look like the god of thunder himself.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call Marcus right now and tell him his property is wandering around my suite."

He said the word property with a sneer, but the threat was real.

Lila took a step forward, desperation overriding her fear. "Because if you send me back down there, I’ll jump off your balcony."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. He set his glass down on a side table with a sharp clink. He walked toward her.

He moved with the predatory grace of a panther. Lila wanted to back away, but her back hit the wall. He stopped inches from her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome, sharp jawline, straight nose, and a mouth that looked like it rarely smiled.

"You’re bluffing," he murmured, his voice low.

"Try me," Lila challenged, lifting her chin. Her hazel eyes locked with his gray ones.

For a second, something flickered in his gaze. Amusement? Respect? Hunger?

"You’re supposed to be marrying my enemy in..." he checked his platinum watch, "...ten minutes."

"I’m not marrying him," Lila said, her voice gaining strength. "I’m not marrying anyone."

"Is that so?" Adrian placed a hand on the wall beside her head, boxing her in. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating. "Then why are you dressed like a sacrificial lamb?"

"I escaped."

"From the wolf?" Adrian leaned in closer. His breath smelled of expensive scotch and mint. "And ran straight into the dragon’s lair. Not very smart, Lila."

Her name on his lips sounded like a caress and a warning all at once.

Suddenly, the phone on the wall buzzed. The concierge line.

Adrian ignored it. He kept his eyes on her.

"That will be security," he said calmly. "They likely saw the elevator come up. They’ll be here in two minutes."

Lila grabbed the lapels of his shirt, forgetting propriety. "Hide me. Please. I’ll do anything."

Adrian went still. His gaze dropped to her hands on his shirt, then back up to her face. A dark, dangerous smile played on his lips.

"Anything?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave.

"Yes."

"Dangerous word, sweetheart."

He reached out, his rough thumb grazing her lower lip. The touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to Lila’s core, making her knees weak.

"They are going to come through those doors," Adrian said, his thumb pressing harder, dragging her lip down slightly. "If they find you, they drag you back to the altar. If they find us..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

"Where can I go?" Lila begged. " The bedroom? The bathroom?"

"No," Adrian said. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair. His grip was firm, possessive. "If you want my protection, you stay right here."

"But they’ll see me!"

"Not," Adrian whispered, leaning down until his lips brushed against her ear, "if you’re occupied."

Before Lila could process what he meant, the elevator chimed.

Ding.

Voices. "Mr. Sterling? We have a report of an intruder..."

Adrian didn't look at the doors. He looked at Lila.

"Last chance to run, little bride," he taunted softly.

Lila looked at the elevator doors opening. She saw the flash of security uniforms. She saw her future, a life of slavery to Marcus.

She made her choice.

Lila reached up, wrapped her arms around Adrian’s neck, and smashed her lips against his.

The shock on Adrian’s face lasted for a fraction of a second. Then, a low growl rumbled in his chest. He didn't push her away.

He kissed her back.

And he didn't kiss like a gentleman. He kissed like a man starving. One arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her against his hard body, lifting her off her feet so that her toes dangled. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, taking, conquering.

It wasn't a kiss for show. It was an ignition.

"Mr. Sterling, we... oh!"

The security guards froze in the doorway.

Adrian broke the kiss but didn't let her go. He turned his head slightly, shielding Lila’s face with his broad shoulder, totally hiding her, keeping her pressed tight against him. He glared at the intruders with a look that could freeze magma.

"Get out," he snarled.

"But sir... the bride..."

"I said," Adrian’s voice was a whip crack, "get out. Can’t you see I’m busy?"

The guards stammered, turned red, and the elevator doors scrambled to close.

As soon as the latch clicked shut, silence returned to the penthouse. But the air had changed. It was charged, heavy with static and the scent of aroused pheromones.

Lila was panting, her lips swollen, her body burning where he touched her. She started to pull away, but Adrian tightened his grip.

"You started this, Lila," he whispered, his eyes dark, the pupils blown wide. "But you don't get to finish it."

He spun her around, pinning her against the glass window, the storm raging behind her and a different kind of storm standing right in front of her.

"You said you’d do anything," Adrian reminded her, his hand drifting down to the torn slit in her dress, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her thigh.

Lila shivered, but she didn't stop him. For the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of the fire. She wanted to burn.

"I did," she breathed.

Adrian smirked. "Good. Then let’s see if you’re as brave as you act."