Rain hammered against the windows outside.
Serena Whitfield lifted her soaked wedding dress and ignored every stare in the lobby as she made her way up to the twenty-seventh floor of the Four Seasons Hotel.
Tomorrow was supposed to be her wedding day with Ethan Caldwell.
And yet right now, she stood there in a total mess, outside another man’s door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Mr. Caldwell."
Her voice was soft and sweet, with a faint tremble in it, like she was trying hard not to fall apart.
Inside, Marcus Caldwell opened the door wearing only a white bathrobe. His hair was still damp, like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
"Miss Whitfield," he said lazily, looking her over, "if you’re unhappy with that wedding dress, you should be talking to your fiancé, not your fiancé’s uncle."
Serena pressed her pale lips together. Her big eyes were glossy, pitiful, full of grievance and fake innocence all at once. Her body swayed too, and before he had even finished speaking, she tilted forward and fell right into his arms.
"Mr. Caldwell, let me in. I’m cold."
It was like his chest was the only heater left in the world. She clung to him like some homeless little creature, fragile on the surface, but with something sly flickering in her eyes.
The smile in Marcus’s eyes deepened, but he didn’t call her out.
"Showing up at your fiancé’s uncle’s room in the middle of the night, Miss Whitfield..." His tone was cool, almost mocking. "Are you cold, or are you just that needy?"
Serena knew Marcus had a sharp tongue. He was brutal with words, the kind of man who could slice people open without even raising his voice.
But she didn’t care.
She rose unsteadily on tiptoe and brushed a light kiss against him.
His throat.
His jaw.
His cheek.
Bang.
The door shut hard behind them.
Her boldness lit Marcus up in an instant. He lowered his eyes, cold and dangerous, then took control without hesitation.
He gave her no room to back out.
She had come to him on her own, so she didn’t get to regret it now.
Marcus pinned her against the door at once. That pure white wedding dress, the one she had prepared for Ethan, was now torn apart by Ethan’s own uncle.
The taboo in it was insane.
And that was exactly what made it hit harder.
That sharp, forbidden thrill sent both of them further and further over the line, until neither cared anymore.
One was eager.
One was fierce.
Their bodies pressed tightly together, and somehow, absurdly, they fit with a wordless, dangerous kind of chemistry.
...
By dawn, the room smelled like total chaos.
When Marcus Caldwell pulled his clothes back on, several raw, bloody nail marks stood out across his bare back.
He casually raked a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed, just about to get up, when a pair of pale hands caught hold of him.
Those fair, delicate fingers looked soft and well-behaved, the kind that seemed made for piano keys or flower petals. But right now, they were doing anything but behaving, slowly tracing up his toned, powerful arm, inch by inch.
"Not satisfied yet? You want another round?"
Marcus lowered his gaze to that hand and let out a faint chuckle, lazy and low, like the easy release of a man who'd genuinely enjoyed himself, body and mind.
Thinking back to what had just happened, he honestly didn't mind going again.
After all, their bodies fit each other insanely well. It had been a long time since he'd had this kind of all-out pleasure. Once you'd had a taste, it was hard not to want more.
"Mr. Caldwell..."
"Why me? Give me a reason." Marcus's voice came out low and husky, rich with that rough magnetic edge.
Serena Whitfield's brows drew together slightly. A reason? Honestly, it was pretty simple.
Her fiancé had been fooling around with her own sister on the bed meant for their wedding night, and she'd seen it with her own eyes.
That trash excuse for a man didn't want the real daughter of the family, but was head over heels for the fake little green-tea act.
Fine then. Trash guy, trash girl. Match made in hell.
Serena had wanted to go straight to her parents and expose those two shameless people. But after another thought, ever since the Whitfields had brought her back, other than her grandmother, who had already passed away, her parents had never really been close to her.
Whether they'd twist the truth and cover for them instead... that was still a big question mark.
Back then, her marriage arrangement with Ethan Caldwell had been personally set up by her grandmother before she died, supposedly to fulfill an old promise between the families.
But Serena had never really felt anything for Ethan. Because of her grandmother's dying wish, she'd had no choice but to go along with it. Funny enough, on the day of the engagement, the one she actually noticed was her fiancé's uncle.
She had a thing for looks. And for a good body.
Marcus Caldwell's build was seriously lethal, the kind that practically screamed temptation. Compared to Ethan's weak, pretty-boy frame, he was on a whole different level.
So yeah, she'd been unable to get him out of her head ever since.
Today, she finally got a real taste of it. He wasn’t just hot on the surface—when it came down to it, he was the real deal too, not sloppy for a second.
Since Ethan Caldwell had already cheated on her, there was no reason for Serena Whitfield to play nice anymore.
An eye for an eye. That had always been Serena’s rule for living.
So she had deliberately changed into the wedding dress she was supposed to wear tomorrow, just so another man could tear it open with his own hands.
What a rush.
Serena was aching, but weirdly satisfied too, wrapped up in that messy, reckless thrill of revenge.
"Again."
"What a little minx."
"Isn’t that exactly your type? A troublesome little minx like me?"
Serena slid her arms around Marcus Caldwell’s neck and pulled him down with her, dragging them both deeper into the fall.