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

Then all three of them burst out laughing.


‘Ashton Laurent? Come on, Mira. Pick a more believable name next time.’


Maxwell swirled his wine. ‘Miss Vance, don’t joke like that. I’m the Senior VP, and I see Mr Laurent maybe once a year. You think he’s just sitting around waiting for you to text him?’


I tapped the table. ‘You’re really not scared I’ll report you?’


He shrugged. ‘I told you what I did because I don’t care if it gets out. Besides, you’re not going to do anything.’


I reached across the table, picked up my phone, and held it up. ‘And if I recorded everything just now?’


‘Sure you did,’ he said, lips stretched in a smug, lazy smile.


‘Oh, I sure did.’ I tilted the screen towards him. ‘And I’m sending it to Ashton Laurent right now.’


Maxwell snorted out a scornful laugh. ‘Oh, come on. Are we still playing pretend?’


Chapter 134 Playing Pretend