His Uncle, My Revenge.

"I'm telling you, boys," he laughed, "a week tops. She's sweet, but not that smart. I give her a few more nights, and she'll be begging me to put a ring on her finger. Easy win."

The words hit harder than a slap.

Celeste Marlowe stood frozen at the doorway of the private lounge, the soft clink of champagne flutes and muted laughter filtered around her when she heard those words. Her fingers trembled around the stem of her untouched glass, the strawberry she'd carefully garnished earlier now tasted so bad, just like her pride.

They didn't know she was there. What was worse was that they weren't even whispering. They were laughing without care, not caring who overheard them.

Landon, the man she'd spent two years loving, was the man in there, laughing with his friends and saying those things about her. Hr was the same man who just last week talked about "forever" with stars in his eyes, and now, he was boasting about her like she was some joke between cigars and scotch.

A bet? This wasn't even a rumor. She heard it herself. She had been a bet. She had been a bet for two years. Was this supposed to last forever if she hadn't overheard them?

Two years. He took this too far.

"I mean, come on," Landon chuckled, leaning back on the velvet sofa, smugness carved into every inch of his pretty-boy face. "She's gorgeous, sure. But all heart. So easy to impress. Daddy's gone, mom's a wreck, and she's just... waiting to be saved." He raised his glass mockingly, and with a slow smirk, he added. "Guess who gets to play hero?"

Celeste didn't feel her heartbeat anymore. She felt a perfect crazy storm in her as she tried to second guess who said those words in Landon's body.

Her throat tightened. She could taste the sour twist of humiliation already burning behind her eyes. Every memory of late-night talks, whispered I-love-you's, every time she had believed in him, they all meant nothing.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw the damn champagne in his smug face, and let him know that she heard him. That she stood there.

Instead, she smiled.

She stepped into the room like she hadn't just overheard her entire soul being dissected for sport.

"Hey, baby," she said, her voice syrupy sweet, as she locked eyes with Landon. His smug expression froze. "You forgot your phone in the car. Thought you might need it."

His friends stiffened, sensing the shift in the air. Landon stood up a little too quickly, too awkwardly. "Celeste, I-"

"Oh no, don't stop on my account." She tilted her head, with her eyes sparkling like broken glass. "You were on a roll. I especially liked the part about me begging you to propose. So flattering."

The room became silent.

She let the moment breathe. She already had her adventure listening to them. She let the shame simmer around him like smoke from a slow burn.

Then she leaned in. Just close enough for only him to hear and then, she whispered, "One week, right? That's what you gave yourself?" she chuckled sweetly, and licked his ear lobe sensually. "Game on, Landon."

She picked up a cigarette from the table, lit it, and walked out before the first apology could tumble from his mouth. She wasn't going to cry over a man like that.

She was going to ruin him, and she knew exactly how to start. There was no man to start with better than the one man Landon hated more than anyone else.

She took in a puff from the cigarette as she thought about the one man who could destroy Landon just by breathing in his direction.

Dominic Cross. Her stomach tumbled when she realized that was Landon's uncle, and her new target.

The corridor outside the lounge was colder than she remembered. Or maybe that was just her.

Her heels echoed down the marble hallway like she owned the place but inside? She was crumbling and screaming.

She had loved him. God, she had loved him.

She gave him her heart, her vulnerability, her firsts snd he had turned her into a joke with a deadline. Just another story to tell over drinks. Just another conquest between designer sheets.

Celeste didn't make it past the empty ballroom before her breath caught in her throat. She staggered into a corner behind the curtain and covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

She swallowed, pushing her sobs back inside. Men like Landon would never get one sob from her.

Celeste swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. Her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window caught her eye. The silky blush gown clung to her body like a second skin. Seductively romantic, soft, naive.

She hated it. She hated how small she looked. How easy, and convenient she looked.

She fixed her posture. "You wanted a bet, Landon?" she whispered to herself. "Let's raise the stakes."

She didn't need to destroy him by screaming. She'd destroy him with silence. With smiles. With the one thing he thought was safely out of reach.

His uncle.

Dominic Cross.

The name alone could clear a room.

He was whispered about in business halls, feared in underworld circles, and hated by Landon's entire family. Mostly because he didn't need them. Dominic had money, power, and a face that could shut you up with one raised brow. He didn't attend family events. Didn't pose for holiday cards. And he certainly didn't entertain girls half his age.

But he would tonight. She was half his age but he would look at her.

Celeste squared her shoulders and turned. She walked out of the ballroom with her head held high and her eyes already searching.

She didn't know what Dominic looked like exactly. The only thing she knew about him was that he was older, colder, and didn't like to be found.

That made two of them.

She caught a glimpse of a figure at the bar. Dark suit, broad back, whiskey glass in hand, posture too relaxed. That already gave him away. There was a presence around him. People kept their distance.

Her stomach tightened. That had to be him. Celeste took a steadying breath, threw her cigarette beneath her shoe, and slipped her mask of innocence back on, and walked toward him.