Butterflies

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

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.

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"Ding dong, ding dong." The sound of door bell ringing echoed through the large yet elegant sitting room.

"It's not my turn, " muttered a girl with long red curly hair. She was lying on the sofa with a magazine covering her face.

"Not me either, " a girl with shiny curls yelled from her seat, frantically smashing on her computer. "Hit him, hit him... noooo."

"Then it's me again, " a petite girl rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine." She took her time to the front door. When she opened the door, she found an old lady with a basket.

"Would you like some bracelets?" the old lady offered. "I made them myself."

The petite girl smiled politely and looked into the basket the old lady was holding. She found four silver bracelets with intricate designs, all with butterfly charms.

"It's very pretty, " the petite girl answered politely, yet noncommittally.

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