Marrying My Nemesis

Audie pushed her weight against the heavy brass handles of the Waldorf Astoria ballroom doors.

The thick wood gave way, releasing a wave of warm air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meats.

She slipped inside, instantly handing her damp trench coat to a waiting attendant at the cloakroom.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her tailored pencil skirt, making sure her professional attire wasn't too wrinkled from the subway ride.

Her eyes scanned the sprawling, opulent hall.

It was a sea of Ivy League elites, men in sharp tuxedos and women in flowing gowns, all mingling under the golden glow of the chandeliers.

She was looking for Ryder.

A waiter in a crisp white shirt walked past holding a silver tray.

Audie reached out and took a flute of champagne, the chilled crystal cooling her warm fingertips.

She pulled her phone from her clutch and checked the screen.

The text from Ryder, received exactly ten minutes ago, stared back at her: Waiting for you inside.

A sudden eruption of loud, enthusiastic applause drew her attention toward the center of the room.

Directly beneath the largest crystal chandelier, a crowd had formed.

Through a gap in the tailored shoulders of the guests, Audie spotted the familiar broad back of Ryder's custom navy blue suit.

The corners of her mouth lifted into a genuine smile.

She took a step forward, ready to tap his shoulder and surprise him for their three-year anniversary.

Then, a woman in a stunning, custom Chanel gown stepped into view and intimately looped her arm through Ryder's.

Audie's heels stopped dead on the marble floor.

The sharp clack of her stilettos was swallowed by the chatter of the room.

The woman turned her profile slightly, laughing at something Ryder said.

It was Tatum.

Her older sister. The golden child of the Bell family.

Audie's chest tightened so violently it felt like her ribs were collapsing inward.

Her fingers clamped around the stem of the champagne flute.

The skin over her knuckles stretched taut and turned a stark, bloodless white.

She dragged in a sharp breath, the air burning her throat.

It's just family networking, she told herself. Just standard Manhattan social politics.

But then Ryder tilted his head down.

He pressed his lips to Tatum's forehead in a slow, lingering kiss that radiated absolute devotion.