My Fiancé Cheated, So I Dated My Billionaire Boss

Seven days before my wedding, I came home early with my grandmother's veil in a garment bag.

I'm Audrey Bennett, twenty-nine, a corporate lawyer. I plan everything. I had not planned on hearing my fiancé laugh from our bedroom.

"Don't wear her veil, Paige. You look prettier than the bride."

Paige. My cousin.

I pushed the door open.

Paige Bennett sat on my bed, bare-shouldered, the ivory lace slipping down her arm. Grant Mercer, the man I'd loved for five years, moved first. Not toward me. He reached over and pulled the sheet up to cover her.

Then he frowned at me. "Audrey? Why didn't you call first?"

I almost laughed. "Call first. To my own home."

"It's not what—"

"Don't." I took out my phone and hit record. The screen framed them neatly: my cousin, my fiancé, my bed.

"Audrey, put that down." Grant's voice sharpened. "Are you seriously filming this?"

"I'm a lawyer. I document things." I slid the ring off my finger and set it on the nightstand. It made a tiny click against the wood. "You two can continue. But get out of my house."

Grant's face shifted. The softness came back, the voice he used when I worked too late, when he wanted me to forgive him for forgetting something.

"Babe. It's wedding stress. I made a mistake. One mistake."

Paige pressed a hand to her mouth. Tears came fast, like she'd practiced. "We just lost control, Audrey. It only happened once, I swear."

Her handbag sat open by the bed. On the strap, a silver tie clip caught the light.

I'd bought it for Grant six months ago. He told me he lost it at the gym.

I picked it up. "Once?"

Paige went pale. Grant opened his mouth and closed it again.

I lifted the veil off the floor. My grandmother had worn it in 1961. Now the lace was stiff with spilled champagne, and a smear of red lipstick ran across the edge.

My eyes burned. I hated that they burned.

Grant saw it and stepped closer, catching my hand. "Hey. Hey. Don't throw away five years over one error."

I pulled free. "You threw it away. You just didn't ask my permission first."

Paige sniffed and sat up straighter. "Audrey, think about it. The venue's paid. People already booked flights. Aunt Linda flew in from Phoenix. You'd really cancel everything?"

"Watch me."

I called my wedding planner. Voicemail. I didn't step out of the room.

"Hi, Jenna, it's Audrey Bennett. The wedding is canceled. Please send me the final invoices. Thank you."

Grant stared at me like I'd slapped him. "You're insane."

"You have until Saturday at noon to remove your things. A third-party witness will be present. I'll text you the time." I turned to leave. "Paige, my robe stays here."

I made it to the elevator before my phone rang. Mom.

"Audrey, honey. Your aunt says Paige is very shaken up. Can't we all sit down and talk about this like a family?"

Shaken up. Paige was shaken up.

For twenty-nine years I had said yes to sitting down. Yes to keeping the peace. Yes to letting Paige borrow things she never gave back.

"No, Mom."

"Audrey—"

"No. I'm not sitting down with them. Goodnight."

I hung up.

In the parking garage, I sat in my car with the key in my hand. I tried to put it in the ignition. My hand shook so hard it kept missing. Once. Twice. Again.

I stopped trying and just sat there until the garage lights clicked off and on again.

---

The next morning I wore my navy suit, the one I'd pressed until the creases looked sharp enough to cut.

The conference room at Sterling Hospitality smelled like new carpet and burnt coffee. Twelve people around the table. I walked them through the partnership contract page by page.

"Section 14.3," I said. "The termination clause lets your partner exit with ninety days' notice but keeps your exclusivity for two years. That's a trap. They walk, you're stuck."

A VP shifted in his seat. "Legal on their side said that was standard."

"Legal on their side works for them."

A low sound came from the head of the table. Miles Sterling, thirty-two, founder and CEO, the man who had sent back my last draft three times with notes in red. He didn't smile often. He was almost smiling now.

"Fix it," he said. "Ms. Bennett's right."

The meeting ended. Chairs scraped. I gathered my files and tugged my sleeve down over my left hand, over the pale band where a ring had sat for two years.

"You missed a comma," Miles said.

I looked up. Everyone else had gone. He held my contract between two fingers.

"Page six," he added. "And the indemnity language is still too soft. That's the fourth time I'm telling you."

"Third."

"Fourth. I counted."

"Of course you did."

He set a paper cup in front of me. Black coffee. No sugar. Exactly how I drank it, though I'd never told him.

Then his gaze dropped to my wrist, to the sleeve I'd pulled too far.

"That ring didn't deserve your hand," he said, like he was reading a line item.

Heat rose up my neck. I folded my arms. "Wow. Are you moonlighting as a marriage counselor now, Mr. Sterling? Should I bill you for the session, or—"

My phone lit up on the table.

Paige.

A photo. Her and Grant on the steps of City Hall, his arm around her waist, her holding a small white bouquet. Wearing my grandmother's veil.

The caption: *Some love doesn't need a big wedding.*

The room went quiet in a way I felt in my teeth. My fingers went cold around the coffee cup.

Across the table, Miles had already picked up his car keys. He glanced at my screen. Then at my face.

He set the keys back down.

"Sit," he said quietly. "Tell me who she is."