I walked into my fiancé's hotel suite and found him fucking a model named Sienna.

My engagement ring was still on my finger. His hands were still on her hips.

Kieran didn't apologize. The first thing he said was, "Why didn't you call first?"

I texted my mother right in front of him and told her to call off the wedding.

That night, I drank until I stopped caring and slept with a stranger.

The next morning, I learned the stranger was Rhys Vale, Kieran's older brother, just back in the country.

---

I had three venue brochures in my bag. The Lakeview Pavilion. The Grand Ivory Ballroom. A vineyard in Napa that Kieran's mother loved.

I'd planned to spread them across his coffee table and make him choose.

The keycard he gave me months ago still worked. The door to the penthouse swung open without a sound.

Then I heard her.

"Harder, Kieran. God, right there."

The bedroom door stood half open. Sienna knelt on the white sheets, palms flat, back arched. Kieran was behind her, gripping her waist, slamming into her so hard the headboard knocked against the wall.

My bag slid off my shoulder. The brochures spilled across the marble floor.

Kieran turned his head. For one second his face went blank. Then it soured, like I'd stepped on his shoe.

"Jesus, Ivy." He pulled out and grabbed a towel. "Why didn't you call first?"

Sienna didn't even cover herself. She rolled onto her side and smiled at me.

"You must be the fiancée," she said.

I stared at Kieran. "Call first? Into your hotel room? The one I have a key to?"

"This is my private time." He knotted the towel at his hip. "You can't just barge in whenever you want."

"Private time." A laugh came out of me, thin and wrong. "We're getting married in four months."

"And whose fault is this?" He stepped closer, voice rising. "You're always busy. Seating charts. Flowers. Brunch with my mother. Dinner with your father. You've got time for everyone except me."

"Don't."

"Every time I touch you, it's 'after the wedding, Kieran.' What did you expect me to do? Wait like a monk?"

My face burned. Sienna giggled into the pillow.

I looked down at my left hand. The diamond caught the light from the window, the same way it had the night he proposed in front of both our families.

I twisted it off. My knuckle scraped raw.

I set the ring on the glass table. It made a tiny click.

"Ivy, come on." His tone shifted, softer now, almost bored. "Don't be dramatic. We'll talk when you calm down."

I pulled out my phone. I typed while he watched.

*Mom. I'm not marrying Kieran. Cancel the engagement.*

I hit send and held up the screen so he could read it.

His jaw ticked. "You won't go through with that."

"Watch me."

My phone buzzed before I reached the elevator.

*Ivy, the Hart family is in the middle of a major deal with the Vales. Breaking the engagement now will hurt both companies. Come home and we'll discuss this rationally.*

Not *are you okay.* Not *what happened.*

I deleted the message and pressed the button for the lobby.

---

The bar on Fifth was dark and quiet. I ordered a whiskey. Then another.

By the fourth, my hands had stopped shaking.

A man sat at the far end of the counter. Dark suit, no tie, collar open. Older than me, maybe early thirties. He hadn't touched his drink in twenty minutes. He hadn't looked at his phone either.

He just sat there, like he was waiting for something to be worth his attention.

I slid my glass down the counter and followed it.

"You look like you're having a bad night too," I said.

His gaze moved to me. Gray eyes, steady and cool. "What makes you think my night is bad?"

"You're drinking alone in a bar with no music."

"So are you."

"I caught my fiancé with another woman three hours ago." I tipped the glass toward him. "Beat that."

He was quiet for a moment. Then the corner of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile.

"I won't try."

"Good." I leaned on the bar. "What's your name?"

"Does it matter?"

I thought about Kieran's voice. *Every time I touch you, it's after the wedding.*

"No," I said. "It doesn't."

I set my hand on his thigh. His muscle tightened under my palm.

"I have a room upstairs," I said. "I don't want to think tonight. I want someone to fuck me until I stop remembering his face."

He studied me for a long beat. "How much have you had?"

"Enough to be brave. Not enough to be stupid."

"Say it again. Sober-sounding."

I met his eyes. "I want you. Tonight. Yes."

He stood and dropped cash on the bar.

---

The elevator doors had barely closed before his mouth was on mine.

He kissed like he had all the time in the world and none of the patience. His hand spread across my lower back and pulled me flush against him. I felt his cock, hard, pressing into my stomach.

"Fuck," I whispered against his lips.

"That's the idea."

In the room, he unzipped my dress and let it drop. He stared at me in my bra and panties like he was memorizing me.

"Turn around," he said.

I did. He unhooked my bra and cupped my breasts from behind, thumbs rolling over my nipples until they ached.

"Say my— no." He laughed low against my neck. "You don't know it."

"Then tell me what you want."

"I want to taste you first."

He pushed me back onto the bed, dragged my panties down my legs, and spread my thighs wide. His tongue went straight to my clit, slow circles, then fast, and my hips jerked off the mattress.

"Oh, fuck. Don't stop."

He slid two fingers inside my pussy and curled them. I grabbed his hair.

"You're soaking wet," he said. "Did he ever make you this wet?"

"Never. Fuck, never."

I came on his tongue, shaking, my heel digging into his shoulder.

He stripped. His cock was thick and flushed, and I reached for it without thinking, stroking him until he swore.

He rolled on a condom and pushed into me in one long stroke.

"Christ, you feel good," he groaned.

"Harder. Fuck me harder."

He did. He pinned my wrists above my head and drove into me deep, steady, merciless. The bed creaked. My nails raked down his back.

"Look at me," he said. "Not at the ceiling. At me."

I looked. Those gray eyes held mine while he fucked me through a second orgasm, and then he buried his face in my neck and came with a rough sound that went straight through my chest.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then I started laughing. I couldn't stop. Tears ran into my hair, and I was still laughing.

He didn't ask why. He just pulled the blanket over both of us.

---

Somewhere near dawn, half asleep, I heard his phone vibrate.

He sat up. His voice was low, careful.

"Yes. I landed yesterday."

A pause.

The man on the other end spoke loudly enough that one phrase reached me through the fog.

"...Mr. Vale, your father wants you at the house by noon."

*Vale.*

The word drifted past me like smoke. I tried to grab it.

But my eyes were already closing.

I woke up alone.

The sheets beside me were cold. The bathroom door stood open, dark and empty. For a second I thought I'd dreamed the whole night.

Then I saw the watch.

It sat on the nightstand, black face, black steel band. Heavy. Expensive. The kind of thing a man doesn't forget unless he means to come back for it.

My head pounded. My thighs ached. My dress lay crumpled by the door like a shed skin.

*He's coming back.*

I dressed so fast I put my heels on the wrong feet. I dug through my wallet, pulled out every bill I had, and fanned them across the nightstand next to his watch.

Two hundred and forty dollars.

I didn't know what it was for. Room service. An apology. Proof that I'd been the one to walk away this time.

I didn't wait for the elevator. I took the stairs.

---

Rhys Vale came back with two coffees and found the room empty.

He set the cups down. He looked at the cash beside his watch and laughed once, under his breath.

Then he pulled back the blanket.

A small rust-colored stain marked the white sheet.

He stood very still.

*Enough to be brave. Not enough to be stupid.*

She'd said it like a woman who'd done this before. She'd touched his thigh like she knew exactly what she wanted. And she'd never been touched at all.

He picked up the money and folded it slowly.

A woman who just happened to sit down next to him, on his first night back in the country. A woman who didn't want his name.

He took out his phone. "The bar on Fifth. Last night. I want to know who she is."

---

My parents were waiting in the front room when I got home.

My father didn't stand. My mother set down her tea.

"Kieran called," she said. "Twice."

"Did he tell you why I ended it?"

"He told us you two had a disagreement."

"I walked in on him with another woman, Mom. He was inside her."

My father's jaw shifted. He looked at the window, not at me.

"Men make mistakes before they settle down," he said. "That doesn't change the merger."

"Dad."

"The Vales have invited us to lunch." My mother stood and smoothed her skirt. "You'll change into something decent. You'll apologize for the text."

"*I'll* apologize?"

"You embarrassed him in front of his family, Ivy." Her voice stayed soft. That was always the worst part. "Go upstairs. The car leaves in forty minutes."

---

The Vale house smelled like lilies and money.

Kieran rose when we walked into the dining room. He wore a pale blue shirt and a wounded face, like he'd practiced it in a mirror.

"Ivy." He kissed my cheek before I could turn away. "I'm glad you came."

His mother squeezed my hand. "Sweetheart, sit. Sit."

I sat. Kieran took the chair beside me and laid his napkin across his lap.

"I want everyone to know I'm not angry," he said to the table. "Ivy's been under so much pressure with the wedding. She hasn't been sleeping. She's been... emotional."

I stared at him. "Emotional."

"It's okay." He patted my wrist. "Nobody's blaming you."

Mr. Vale nodded slowly. My mother nodded faster.

I opened my mouth to tell them all exactly what I'd seen.

Then footsteps came down the staircase behind me.

"Ah," Mr. Vale said. "There he is. Ivy, you haven't met my eldest. Rhys just got back from London."

I turned.

Dark suit. No tie. Collar open.

Gray eyes.

The glass of water in my hand tipped. Ice spilled across the tablecloth.

"Oh, honey." My mother dabbed at it. "Clumsy."

Rhys walked around the table and offered his hand. "Ivy. Nice to meet you."

His voice was polite. Flat. A stranger's voice.

But his eyes stayed on mine one beat too long.

I took his hand. His thumb pressed once into the center of my palm, right where a pulse would be.

"Nice to meet you," I whispered.

He sat directly across from me.

---

The soup came. I couldn't taste it.

"So, Ivy." Rhys broke a piece of bread. "Kieran tells me you're the planner in the relationship."

"Was," I said.

Kieran laughed too loudly. "She's joking."

Something slid against my ankle under the table.

A shoe. Smooth leather, cool through my stockings. It moved up slowly, over my calf, to the soft hollow behind my knee.

My spoon clattered against the bowl.

"You okay?" Kieran asked.

"Fine."

Rhys sipped his wine. "You seem tense."

"I'm not."

The shoe pressed higher. I locked my knees together. He waited, patient, then nudged them apart one inch.

My mother was talking about seating charts. Mrs. Vale was talking about peonies.

I gripped the edge of the chair until my nails bent.

"Excuse me," I said, standing. "Restroom."

---

The hallway was long and dim. I made it halfway before an arm wrapped around my waist from behind.

I gasped. A hand covered my mouth.

"Don't scream," Rhys murmured against my ear. "My mother hates noise at lunch."

I clawed at his wrist. He let my mouth go but not my waist.

"You knew," I hissed. "Last night. You knew who I was."

"I didn't." His breath stirred my hair. "But I know now. And I'm very curious how my brother's fiancée ended up in my bed on my first night home."

"It was an accident."

"Was it?"

He turned me around and backed me into the wall. Before I could answer, his mouth came down hard on mine. I shoved at his chest. He didn't move. His knee pushed between my legs, pinning me in place.

I tore my face sideways. "Stop. Please."

He stopped. Just barely.

"Don't tell them," I said. My voice cracked. "My parents. Your parents. If they find out, they'll—"

"They'll what?"

"They'll say I did it on purpose. They'll ruin me."

He studied me the way he had at the bar. Measuring.

Then he stepped back.

"I won't say a word," he said. "On one condition."

He reached into his jacket and took out something small and pink, smooth as a pebble. Then a slim black remote.

My stomach dropped.

He slid the little toy into the pocket of my dress, flat against my hip. He held up the remote.

"Keep it there. Through dessert. If I hear you've taken it out, I start talking."

"You're insane."

"I'm back." He smoothed my collar like a gentleman. "Come on. They'll wonder."

---

He pulled out my chair for me. Kieran smiled. My mother smiled.

Rhys sat down and set the remote beside his wineglass, next to the salt.

Nobody looked at it.

"Ivy," Mrs. Vale said warmly, "we were just saying you two should set the date again. Kieran, ask her."

Kieran turned to me, all teeth. "What do you say, babe?"

Across the table, Rhys rested two fingers on the remote.

He met my eyes.

And pressed.

The vibration hit low and sharp against my hip.

My fork scraped the plate. I pressed my knees together under the tablecloth and smiled at nobody.

"Ivy?" Kieran waved a hand in front of my face. "Babe. The date?"

"I... need to think about it."

Rhys tilted his head. "You've gone pale. Are you feeling all right?"

Every face at the table turned toward me.

"I'm fine."

"You're shaking." He said it gently, like a worried older brother. "Mom, maybe she should lie down."

"Oh, sweetheart." Celeste reached over and touched my forehead. "You're warm."

"It's just the wine."

Rhys's fingers rested on the remote. The buzz dropped to nothing. I sagged against the chair.

"So," he said, cutting into his lamb. "What do you actually do, Ivy? Besides wedding planning."

"I work at a gallery. In acquisitions. I—"

The buzz came back stronger.

My voice broke in half. I grabbed my water glass and drank until it was gone.

"Sorry. Went down wrong."

"Take your time." Rhys didn't look up from his plate. "Acquisitions. So you know how to judge what something's worth."

"Most of the time."

"Only most?"

"Sometimes people lie about what they're selling."

He finally lifted his eyes. Something like approval flickered there. Then he turned the dial again.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.

Kieran laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Look at her. Trembling like a rescued puppy." He spread his hands to the table. "This is what she does. Ivy loves playing the victim. One little fight and suddenly she's the tragic heroine."

"Kieran," his father said quietly.

"What? I'm being honest." He turned to me, voice silky. "Where'd you go after you left my place last night, anyway? You didn't come home. Your mom said so."

My stomach turned to ice.

"Out," I said.

"Out where? With who?"

I said nothing. The thing in my pocket hummed against my skin like a secret about to be spoken out loud.

"See?" Kieran snapped his fingers. "Nothing. Because she was probably—"

"I didn't—"

"—with some guy she met an hour earlier. And now she's here, staging this whole meltdown so she can wriggle out of the engagement and blame me."

"That's not—"

"You've wanted out for months. Admit it."

"Enough."

Celeste set her napkin down hard. Silverware rattled.

"You are humiliating your fiancée in front of her parents," she said. "Do you understand what that makes us look like? Both families?"

Kieran's mouth opened. Closed.

My mother straightened in her chair. For the first time all day, her voice wasn't soft.

"My daughter found you in bed with another woman, Kieran. And you're questioning *her* night?" She folded her hands. "You'll apologize to Ivy. Right now."

Kieran's ears went red. He stared at his plate like it had insulted him.

"Fine. Sorry."

Nobody believed it. Not even him.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Then Rhys wiped his mouth and set his napkin aside.

"May I suggest something?"

Mr. Vale frowned. "Go ahead."

"The merger needs a marriage. Kieran clearly doesn't want one." Rhys spoke like he was reading a quarterly report. "Swap the groom. Let it be me."

My father's eyebrows rose. Celeste blinked twice.

Kieran laughed, short and ugly. "You're joking."

"I rarely joke about contracts."

I pushed my chair back an inch. "No. Absolutely n—"

The remote clicked under his thumb.

The vibration surged, deep and relentless. The word died in my throat. I clutched the table edge and stared at my plate, lips pressed tight, eyes stinging.

Kieran jumped in before I could find my voice again.

"She's not good enough for you, Rhys. Trust me." He jabbed a finger at me. "Half the men in this city have had her. You want *that* carrying the Vale name?"

Something inside me snapped clean.

The buzzing went quiet. Maybe Rhys turned it off. Maybe I just stopped feeling it.

I stood up.

"Half the men in this city?" My voice came out loud and strange. "You were inside another woman yesterday, Kieran. I watched you. You didn't even stop to apologize. You asked why I didn't *call*."

"Ivy, sit down," my father said.

"You're a liar. You're a coward. You can't even own your own filth, so you smear it on me in front of your mother." Tears spilled over, hot and fast. I didn't wipe them. "I'd rather die alone than marry you."

I turned and walked out. Then I ran.

---

I got as far as the foyer before a hand closed around my elbow.

"I'll look after her," Rhys called back toward the dining room. Calm. Responsible.

"Let me go."

"You're crying in my parents' hallway. Come with me."

He steered me up the stairs and into a guest room, the door shutting soft behind us.

"Give me the remote." I held out my palm. It trembled. "Give it to me."

"Sit down first."

"You *told them* to marry us off. Like I'm a—"

The buzzing returned, low and steady. My sentence crumbled.

"Like you're a what?" he asked.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around myself. "Please. Turn it off. Please, Rhys."

He crouched in front of me so our eyes were level. He didn't touch me. He didn't need to.

"You'll understand eventually," he said. "Everything Kieran couldn't give you, I can."

"I don't want anything from you."

"You wanted it last night."

He turned the dial.

I stopped arguing after that. I stopped being able to. I pressed my face into my hands and shook, sobbing and hating my body for answering him anyway, until it broke over me and left me curled on the bedspread, hollow and burning with shame.

The room went quiet.

Rhys pulled the toy from my pocket, slipped it into his jacket, and laid the remote on the nightstand beside me. Like a gift.

"Wash your face," he said. "They'll be deciding things downstairs."

---

They were.

By the time I came down, my mother's eyes were red and my father was shaking Mr. Vale's hand.

"Nothing is final," Celeste said carefully. "But given the circumstances... we'll revisit the terms. Who stands at the altar may change."

My mother didn't look at me. She just nodded.

Across the foyer, Kieran stood in the open front door, his face gray with fury.

He wasn't looking at his parents.

He was staring at Rhys, who stood one step behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him at my back.

Kieran's lips moved. I couldn't hear it.

But I didn't need to.

*This isn't over.*