Jessica C. Dolan

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn’t even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster—my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I’d met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he’s not letting me go.

I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Preston saw me hesitate and shoved down on my shoulder again.


I gripped the edge of the table, ready to throw a plate at him, but then he bent low beside my ear.


‘Relax,’ he whispered. ‘Maxwell can’t get it up. He can’t do anything. Just sit still and look pretty.’


I turned slowly and looked at Maxwell again.


His skin looked waxy. His eyelids drooped. He blinked slow.


The man probably couldn’t climb a flight of stairs without collapsing.


Preston’s hand lifted from my shoulder.


He moved around the table, filled a glass for Maxwell, poured a second for himself, then said, ‘This is Mr Gary Maxwell, Senior VP of Corporate Procurement. This is my cousin, Mirabelle Vance.’


Franklin chuckled. ‘Come on, Mirabelle. Say hello. Give Mr Maxwell a toast.’


I stared straight ahead and kept my mouth shut.


Franklin’s smile twitched. ‘She’s, uh… shy. Not much of a talker. Let’s eat.’


Chapter 132 Dinner With A Perv