My Fiancé Was Sexting My Best Friend

My fiancé, Don Luciano Carbone, and my best friend, Maya, never got along. They fought every time they met. But just before my wedding, I found out they’d been sleeping together for a long time.

Today, Maya flew in from Miami for my last week of freedom.

She’d chopped her hair. Short, black, and rebellious.

Leather jacket, ripped jeans, and the same old pair of Doc Martens.

She was an anarchist in my world of etiquette and order. But she was my best friend.

We ordered takeout on her phone, ready for a girls' night in.

But when she went to shower, her phone buzzed on the couch. The screen lit up.

I glanced over, thinking it was the food delivery notification.

"Catherine, can you see who it is?" Maya called out.

But it wasn't a delivery app on the screen.

It was a text.

From: King of Spades

[Game on. My weapon's ready for you tonight.]

My hand froze over the screen.

That nickname… Fucking weird.

But what was weirder? The contact was pinned to the top.

The phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a picture.

I shouldn’t look. This was Maya’s business.

But my eyes were already locked on the screen.

The photo showed a set of black lace lingerie. So sheer it was almost transparent.

Next to it… My face burned. Things I’d only seen in movies. Bondage gear.

My heart pounded. Maya was into…

Then I noticed the background of the photo.

A man's chest. Hard, tanned skin. And a scar.

A jagged scar, like a lightning bolt. It ran from his left shoulder down toward his heart.

My hands started to shake.

I knew that scar. I’d seen it a thousand times.

I’d traced it with my fingertips in our most intimate moments. Luciano said he got it in a shootout. Said it almost killed him.

No.

It couldn’t be.

I had to be wrong. There were a lot of men in New York, a lot of scars…

The phone slipped from my grasp, landing softly on the rug.

I stared at it, my heart about to explode.

This couldn’t be real.

Maya was my best friend. Luciano was my fiancé.

They couldn't stand each other.

Maya thought Luciano was too dangerous for me. Luciano thought Maya was a bad influence…

I practically had to chain them to their chairs just to get through one dinner. It only happened once.

I snatched the phone and quickly dialed Luciano’s number.

A video call connected.

"Baby." Luciano's face appeared, handsome as ever, his dark hair a little messy. "Miss me already?"

"Where are you?" I tried to keep my voice steady.

"Handling some business. Boring stuff." He frowned. "You don't look so good. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just…" I took a deep breath. "Can you come over tonight?"

"Of course. Give me an hour." His gaze softened. "Catherine, you sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure."

But I wasn't. That scar…

"By the way," Luciano said suddenly. "Maya's back, right?"

"Yeah, she's in the shower."

His expression turned serious. "Catherine, I've told you a hundred times. She's bad news. She's a bad influence."

"Luciano—"

"I'm serious," he cut me off. "She's from the gutter, Catherine. Violence, drugs... that's her world. Not yours."

I remembered high school.

An alley after school. Three punks had me cornered.

Maya showed up, swinging a bike chain. Her eyes were cold enough to kill.

That was the first time I saw real violence. That was the day I fell in love with the wild, untamable fire in her.

"She saved my life," I said softly.

"That was a long time ago." Luciano's voice grew gentle again. "You have me to protect you now. You don't need friends like her."

I nodded, but the knot in my stomach only tightened.

"I love you," he said. "See you in an hour."

The call ended.

I sat on the couch, staring at Maya's phone.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe the scar was just a coincidence. Maybe—

The water in the bathroom shut off. Maya would be out any second.

I put the phone back where I found it, pretending nothing had happened.

But the image was burned into my mind. The black lace. The bondage gear. And that lightning-bolt scar.

I walked out to the terrace for some air, trying to clear my head.

The wedding was in one week.

I was about to marry the most powerful man in New York.

My best friend flew in from Miami to be with me.

Everything was supposed to be perfect.

So why did I feel the ground cracking open right under me?

I heard footsteps behind me. A hand touched my shoulder.

"Catherine."