Chapter 2

A scream from upstairs.

Then a heavy thud — something hitting the floor hard enough to set the crystal chandelier in the foyer trembling.

I looked up at the closed door on the second floor.

My bridal suite.

I gathered my skirt and bolted for the staircase.

A hand shot out and shoved me hard in the shoulder.

I lost my footing. My lower back slammed into the banister.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

Chloe was leaning against the railing, chewing gum.

She wiped her hand off on her bridesmaid dress like I'd dirtied her.

"Where do you think you're running off to, Yara?"

"It's your wedding day."

"You jinx whatever's going on up there, and trust me — you can't afford the karma."

I stared at her face.

That thick, carefully applied foundation. That smug set of her jaw.

Another crash from upstairs. Glass shattering.

Then the sound of fabric ripping. A woman's muffled sobs.

The noises came through the door — muffled. Desperate.

I tried to push past her. "Move! Someone's crying for help!"

Chloe didn't budge.

She shoved me back. Her long nails raked three bloody lines down my arm.

"Help? Honey, the groomsmen are just having a little fun with her."

"That girl should count herself lucky."

"Half the women in Ashford Bay would kill for a night with Bash."

"Today's your wedding. You should be on your knees thanking him for noticing that little nobody."

I was shaking.

I raised my hand to slap her.

Someone caught my wrist mid-air.

Marcus.

My brand-new husband. Reeking of bourbon.

He flung my arm aside.

I staggered back several steps and nearly went down on my heel.

He yanked at his tie, impatient.

"Yara, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Those are my groomsmen up there blowing off steam."

"Why are you trying to kill the mood?"

I jabbed a finger toward the second floor.

"Kill the mood? Raping a girl is the mood?"

"That's a crime, Marcus. Open that door. Now."

He blocked the stairs with his whole body.

"Rape? Don't be so dramatic."

"It's just roughhousing."

"Your nobody sister plays the virgin act all the time."

"Bet she's loving it up there. One night with Bash, and she's set for life."

Donna remained seated on the velvet sofa, sipping her wine.

She didn't even glance up.

"Enough already. Stop embarrassing yourself."

"Bash taking an interest in her is an honor for your family."

"You should be grateful, not screaming like a lunatic."

Another scream from upstairs.

Sharp. Desperate.

"Help! Please, someone help me!"

My heart hammered.

I lunged for the stairs again. "I'm calling the police."

Marcus's eyes went dark.

He kicked me hard in the stomach.

I doubled over, gasping.

My phone flew from my hand.

He stomped on it.

The screen cracked under his heel.

He picked it up and tossed it into the champagne ice bucket.

It sank to the bottom.

Good thing he didn't know about the second one.

Then he pulled a key from his pocket, walked to the front door, and turned the deadbolt.

"Nobody leaves until Bash is done."

"Yara, if you screw this up for me, I'll kill you right here."

Donna stubbed out her cigarette.

She flicked the burning butt at my wedding dress.

The ember caught on the white silk and burned a small black hole through it.

"Really bad bitch," she said. "Calls the cops on her own husband on her wedding day?"

"Honestly, some women deserve what they get."