The Heiress's Wager Chapter 1

I pushed open the double doors of the main salon and froze.

My best friend, Sienna Banks, was straddling my fiancé, Julian Thorne. She was practically naked.

All she had on was a sheer lace camisole.

Julian’s hands were gripping her bare waist.

Texas Hold'em cards were scattered across the mahogany table, mixed in with a pile of discarded women’s clothing.

I stood in the doorway, feeling like someone had just sucker-punched me in the gut.

"Julian?" My voice came out steadier than I expected.

He didn't even look up. He just continued lazily shuffling the deck. "Regular poker was getting boring. We decided to make it interesting."

He spoke about it like he was discussing the weather.

Like I wasn't his fiancée.

Like this wasn't our engagement party.

Sienna turned her head, her eyes flashing with pure provocation. She deliberately pressed her body tighter against Julian. "Strip poker, sweetie. Loser sheds a layer. Just a game, right?"

She called me "sweetie" like we were still sisters.

Like she wasn't currently grinding on my future husband’s lap.

Like her hand wasn't resting on his chest.

My fingers curled into fists. "Get off him."

Julian finally looked up. His eyes were as cold as the North Atlantic ocean outside. "Excuse me? Are you giving me orders now?"

"We aren't married yet, Seraphina. Don't act like you own me."

His words were like razor blades across my face.

There were about fifteen people in the room watching us—the elite young money of the Upper East Side. They were looking at me like I was the evening entertainment.

I took a deep breath, walked over to the table, and sat in an empty chair.

"Deal me in."

The salon went dead silent for three seconds.

Then, the whispers exploded.

Julian frowned. He looked me dead in the eye, his gaze filled with warning. "Seraphina, go back to bed. This isn't for you."

"We dock tomorrow. I'll buy you whatever you want. That Birkin you've been eyeing? It's yours."

He was trying to pay me off.

Like a disobedient child.

Like a trophy wife who could be silenced with luxury goods.

In the past, I would have been moved. I would have thought he cared about me and obediently went back to my room.

But tonight, I just wanted to vomit.

"I said, deal me in," I repeated, my voice dropping an octave.

Sienna let out an exaggerated sigh, tracing circles on Julian's chest. "If you don't like the game, we can switch, babe. No need to make a scene."

But her ass was still glued to his lap.

And her hand was still on his shoulder.

Julian suddenly laughed, a sound dripping with mockery. "Seraphina Vane, throwing a tantrum at her own engagement party. Did Daddy not teach you better?"

"Let me guess—next you're going to check my phone? Stalk me? God, we aren't even married and you're already acting like a jealous housewife."

Laughter.

They were laughing.

I heard snickers rippling through the room.

I looked at Julian.

The face I had loved for ten years.

The man who had saved me from kidnappers when I was fourteen.

The man I had changed everything for, hidden everything for, sacrificed everything for.

He was humiliating me in front of everyone.

With another woman.

At our engagement party.

Something inside me snapped.

"You're right," I heard myself say, my voice eerily calm.

"It's just a game. And I’m not a sore loser."

I grabbed a stack of chips from the table and tossed them into the center.

"Deal the cards."

Julian’s eyes narrowed.

Someone whistled.

Leo Maxwell—Julian’s best friend—cleared his throat. "Well, this just got interesting. Sera, I didn't know you played Texas Hold'em."

He winked at Julian, trying to diffuse the tension. "Good thing Julian is basically a poker god. If you two team up, the rest of us are screwed."

But Julian didn't play along.

He kept his arm around Sienna’s waist, staring at me coldly. "Everyone is equal at the table. Either go to bed, or don't come crying to me when you lose."

Sienna giggled, her eyes darting between Julian and me. "How about we up the stakes? Besides the betting and the stripping—the winner gets to make anyone at the table do anything."

She paused, feigning concern. "But go easy on Seraphina, okay? She’s a beginner. Don't bully my girl."

The salon instantly buzzed with energy.

"Hell yes! If I win, I'm making Julian sign over that plot in the West Village!"

"Dude, you have to beat Julian first. Good luck."

"If I win, can I kiss Miss Vane?" someone cracked a dirty joke. "She's about to be back on the market anyway, right?"

More laughter.

I sat up straighter amidst the mockery.

I pulled a stack of chips from the rack.

I threw them into the center.

"Deal."