Sleeping With My Ex's Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

The crystal chandelier inside The Plaza Hotel emitted a blinding light.

Adelia Graves stood directly beneath it, holding a flute of champagne. The harsh light forced her to narrow her eyes. She forced the corners of her mouth up, maintaining the flawless social smile she had practiced for years.

A Wall Street executive's wife walked up to her, her diamond necklace catching the light.

"Where is Coleman hiding tonight, Adelia?" the woman asked.

Adelia swallowed the hard lump of panic forming in her throat.

"He had to take a quick call with the London office," Adelia lied smoothly, keeping her voice steady.

Her phone vibrated violently inside the tiny beaded clutch she held tightly in her hand. The delicate metal clasp dug into her palm as she quickly snapped it open. She pulled the phone out, her thumb pressing the screen.

It was a text from Coleman's private assistant.

Elia Tate was in a car accident. Mr. Cooper has left the building.

The cold words burned her eyes. Her lungs stopped working. The air in the ballroom suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

Her bridesmaid, Audrey, leaned in close, noticing the sudden drop of color in Adelia's face.

"What's wrong?" Audrey asked.

The loud, brassy notes of the live jazz band drowned out the question. Adelia could not speak. She only shook her head, her neck stiff.

She grabbed handfuls of her heavy skirt and turned toward the side doors of the ballroom. The intricate lace hem caught on the heel of her stiletto. She stumbled forward, her ankle twisting painfully, but she caught her balance against a marble pillar.

She pushed open the heavy oak doors.

The cold draft of the hallway hit her bare shoulders. Fifty feet away, Coleman was sprinting toward the elevators.

"Coleman!" Adelia called out.

Her throat was completely dry. Her voice sounded weak, echoing off the empty walls.

Coleman stopped and looked back. There was zero apology in his eyes. His jaw was tight with pure, unfiltered impatience.

"Elia needs me," he said.

The blunt words hit Adelia like a physical slap to the face. Her stomach dropped.

She ran to him and grabbed the sleeve of his tuxedo.

"You cannot leave our rehearsal dinner," she said, her fingers trembling.

He yanked his arm away with brutal force. The smooth silk of his jacket slid against her hand, bending her fingernail backward until the skin tore.

The elevator doors opened. Coleman stepped inside without a second glance. The metal doors slid shut, cutting off his face.

At the far end of the hallway, a rapid series of clicks echoed.

Camera flashes exploded in the dim light. Paparazzi had breached the floor. The bright bursts of white light blinded Adelia. She threw her bleeding hand up to cover her eyes.

Hotel security guards rushed past her, shoving the photographers backward. The chaotic pushing forced Adelia to retreat. Her back hit the wall. Her chest heaved as she struggled to pull oxygen into her lungs.

She