My Fiancé Married Me To His Brother

The car didn't go to her house. It pulled up to the curb of Velvet, the most exclusive nightclub in the city.

"You can't go home looking like G.I. Jane," Killian said. "Go inside. Clean up. Blend in."

He didn't get out. He just waited.

Delia slipped out of the car and into the club's side entrance.

In the bathroom, she scrubbed the blood off her hands. She ditched the cap. She shook out her hair. She took off the tactical jacket, leaving her in the tight thermal top. It looked intentional. Edgy.

She walked out onto the floor. The bass thumped in her chest, masking her heartbeat.

She found Elsie Kidd in a booth near the bar.

"Delia!" Elsie screamed over the music. "Oh my god! I thought your dad locked you in the dungeon!"

Delia slid into the booth. "He tried."

She signaled the waitress. "Tequila. Double."

Elsie grabbed her arm. "Is it true? About Ansel?"

"Yes."

"Everyone is saying he dumped you because of his... condition."

"He's just ugly, Elsie," she said, downing the shot the waitress brought. "Inside and out."

Elsie grinned mischievously. “Oh? And what kind do you like, then? The deadly type? Like Killian Gibson?”

Delia choked on the lime.

Elsie's eyes widened in alarm. "No way! You're actually into that devil? He'll eat you alive!"

The image of Killian handing her a handkerchief in the car just moments earlier flashed across Delia's mind.

Delia quirked up the corner of her mouth. "Maybe I want a taste of being devoured too."

"Well, well." A slur of a voice interrupted them.

Delia looked up. Luke Higgins. Ansel's best friend. He was swaying, holding a drink that was mostly spilled.

"The reject," Luke sneered. "Ansel told me you begged him. On your knees."

Her hand tightened on her glass.

"Go away, Luke," she said.

"Or what?" He leaned in, his breath smelling of sour whiskey. "You gonna cry to your daddy?"

He reached out, his hand grasping for her shoulder.

Her muscle memory triggered. She grabbed his wrist. She twisted.

"Ow! Fuck!" Luke yelled.

"Let go of her!" Elsie shouted, standing up.

Luke shoved Elsie. She stumbled back, hitting her hip against the table. She cried out.

That was it.

The red haze dropped over her vision. She stood up. She was about to break his arm. She was about to snap it like a dry twig. She didn't care about the cover anymore. She was going to hurt him.

Suddenly, the music cut out.

The silence was instant. Violent.

Every light in the club swiveled upward. They focused on the VIP balcony overlooking the dance floor.

The crowd froze.

Killian Gibson stood at the railing.

He held a glass of amber liquid. He wasn't looking at the crowd. He wasn't looking at Luke.

He was looking directly at her.

Two men in black suits materialized behind Luke. They didn't speak. One of them kicked the back of Luke's knee.

Luke hit the floor with a crack.

"Hey! What the-"

"Mr. Gibson requires quiet," the bodyguard said. His voice was flat.

Luke looked up at the balcony. His face went white. "Mr. Gibson... I... I was just..."

The bodyguard grabbed Luke by the collar and dragged him backward. Luke's heels scraped across the floor. He didn't dare scream.

Killian didn't even blink.

The club was dead silent. Five hundred people, and you could hear a pin drop.

Elsie gripped Delia's arm. Her nails dug into her skin. "Oh my god. Delia. Look."

Delia looked up.

Killian raised his glass. He tilted it toward her. A toast.

I see you.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. It wasn't fear. It was... recognition.

She grabbed her tequila glass. She held his gaze. She raised her glass and downed the rest of the shot.

A slow smile spread across Killian's face.

The music blasted back on. The spell broke. But the air around her felt charged.

A bartender appeared at their table. He set down a glass filled with a dark, smoking liquid.

"Compliments of the gentleman upstairs," the bartender said. "It's called 'Dangerous Love'."

Elsie squealed. "He is totally into you!"

Delia stared at the drink. It was a trap. A beautiful, intoxicating trap.

"We need to go," she said.

"What? No! Stay!"

"Now, Elsie."

She dragged Elsie toward the exit.

They reached the doors. But a large figure blocked the way.

Dirk. Killian's assistant.

"Miss Fitzgerald," Dirk said. He wasn't smiling. "Mr. Gibson insists. It's raining. He will drive you home."

Delia looked past him. The rain was pouring again.

"I have a friend," she said.

"A car has been arranged for Miss Kidd," Dirk said. "You come with us."

It wasn't a request.