Chapter 1: The Invitation That Felt Like a Knife

"Serena, open this door. I swear to God, I will break it down."

I flinched at the sound of my own voice. It echoed off the bathroom walls, sharp and desperate and nothing like the woman I used to be. My hands were shaking. My chest was heaving. The red dress I had chosen for tonight felt like a noose around my throat.

"Sloane! People are waiting. Devon is asking where you are."

Devon. His name hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of the marble sink and stared at my reflection. The woman looking back at me had wild eyes and trembling lips. She looked broken. She looked like she had been crying for hours.

She had.

"Sloane, I am not playing games. Open the door."

I closed my eyes. For a moment, I was back in our apartment. Our bed. The silk sheets tangled around our bodies. His lips on my neck. His whispered promises.

You are the only woman I will ever love, Sloane. You are my forever.

The bathroom door rattled again. I opened my eyes. The reflection in the mirror was still there. Still broken. Still alone.

The door creaked open. I did not turn around. I did not need to. I knew exactly who it was. I knew the sound of her heels. I knew the cloying sweetness of her perfume.

"Look at you," Serena said. Her voice was soft, almost pitying. "Crying in the bathroom at my wedding. It's pathetic, really."

I said nothing. I could not find the words.

"Devon wants to see you before the ceremony. He wants to make sure you're not going to embarrass yourself. Or him." She paused. I could feel her smile without seeing it. "You know how he is about his reputation."

His reputation. Not my heart. Not my pain. His reputation.

"I am not going to embarrass anyone," I said. My voice sounded foreign. Hollow. "Tell Devon I will be out in a minute."

Serena laughed. It was a light, tinkling sound that made my stomach turn. "You know what, Sloane? I almost feel sorry for you. Almost." Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked away. The door clicked shut behind her.

I stood there for another minute. Maybe two. Long enough to feel the tears dry on my cheeks. Long enough to remember how to breathe.

Then I reached for my phone.

No messages. No calls. The escort agency had promised me a man. A handsome, wealthy-looking stranger who would walk into that wedding with me and make Devon regret everything he had ever done to me. I had paid a fortune. I had given them every detail. His suit size. His hair color. The exact moment he was supposed to approach me.

And he was not here.

I called the agency. The phone rang three times. Four times. Then a woman answered, her voice smooth and practiced.

"Good evening, Elite Companions. How may I assist you?"

"This is Sloane Cross. I arranged for a companion to meet me at the Grand Hotel an hour ago. He never showed."

Silence. Then the woman cleared her throat. "Miss Cross, I am so sorry. There seems to have been a complication."

"What kind of complication?"

"The gentleman assigned to you was in an accident this afternoon. He is fine, but he will not be able to fulfill the arrangement. We tried to contact you, but your phone was not reachable."

I stared at the wall. My phone had been off while I was getting ready. Of course it had been. Of course the one night I needed it, my phone had been off.

"Is there someone else? Anyone?"

"I am afraid not. We can offer you a discount on your next booking—"

I hung up.

The bathroom spun around me. I grabbed the edge of the sink again, my heart hammering in my chest. I was going to walk into that wedding alone. I was going to face Devon and Serena and every single guest who had ever whispered about me behind my back. I was going to stand there while they exchanged vows, while they kissed, while they celebrated the love they had built on my ruins.

And I was going to do it alone.

I looked at my reflection one more time. The red dress. The dark hair. The eyes that had once sparkled with hope and now looked like shattered glass.

"You are a Cross," I whispered to myself. "You do not break. You do not crumble. You walk into that room and you remind them who you are."

I did not believe a single word.

I stepped out of the bathroom. The hallway was empty now, the guests already seated in the ballroom. I could hear the music. A string quartet playing something soft and romantic. It made me want to scream.

I walked toward the entrance. My heels clicked against the marble floor, the sound echoing in the silence. I kept my head high. I kept my shoulders back. I kept my heart locked in a cage of ice.

The doors to the ballroom were open. I could see the altar. The flowers. The candles. And Devon, standing there in his black tuxedo, waiting for my sister.

He looked up. His eyes found mine. For a moment, something flickered across his face. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. Then it vanished, replaced by a cold, careful smile.

I wanted to throw something at him.

Instead, I stepped into the ballroom.

The music stopped. Every head turned. I felt their eyes on me, hundreds of them, burning through my dress like fire. I heard the whispers. I saw the pity. I felt the humiliation settle into my bones.

And then I saw him.

A man standing near the entrance. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair swept back from a face that looked like it had been carved from marble. His suit was black. His tie was silver. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

I did not think. I did not hesitate. I walked toward him, grabbed his wrist, and held on tight.

He turned. His eyes met mine. There was surprise there, and something else. Something that looked like curiosity.

"You are late," I said. "Just follow my lead and do not say a word."

He opened his mouth. He was about to speak.

I did not let him.

I pulled him toward the center of the room.

The guests watched in stunned silence. I could feel their confusion, their shock, their desperate need to understand what was happening. I held the stranger's hand tighter and raised my chin.

"I have an announcement to make," I said.

Devon stepped forward. "Sloane, what are you doing?"

"I am already married," I said. "This is my husband."

The room went dead silent.

Devon's face went pale. Serena's mouth fell open. My mother gasped. My father looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

And the stranger beside me did not pull away. He did not look confused. He did not deny it.

He looked down at me. His dark eyes gleamed with something I could not name.

Then he leaned down. His breath was warm against my ear. His voice was low and amused and dangerous.

"You have no idea what you have just done, do you?"