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Stealing The Groom For Sweet Revenge Novel Cover

Stealing The Groom For Sweet Revenge

I was an unwanted foster kid taken in by the Goodwin family, about to marry into the wealthy Cantu family to secure my adoptive father's power. But at my rehearsal dinner, my adoptive mother drugged my champagne, intending to have me assaulted and ruined. The next morning, my fiancé and my sister burst into my hotel room with a swarm of reporters, pointing fingers in manufactured horror. "You filthy whore! The engagement is over!" My fiancé roared for the cameras, while my sister sobbed about my betrayal. They had brought the press to publicly slaughter me, justifying their own secret affair while my adoptive family cursed me as a disgusting stray. For years, I had endured their toxic abuse, only to be thrown to the wolves so my sister could steal my life. They truly believed I was just a helpless pawn they could crush and discard. But they didn't know I had anticipated their trap and deliberately walked into the bed of Dorian Underwood—the ruthless billionaire and the only man the Cantu family actually feared. As I calmly hit 'send' to broadcast my fiancé's explicit sex tape to every reporter in the hallway, I met Dorian's dark, predatory gaze. I wasn't just surviving anymore; I was going to tear both their empires to the ground.
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Chapter 7

The flickering streetlamp caught the sharp angles of Dorian's face. He wore a long black cashmere coat, his hands buried deep in the pockets. The signature, mocking smirk played on his lips.

He walked toward them, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. There was a dangerous spark of genuine admiration in his dark gaze. He had expected a victim. He found a predator.

Elizabeth straightened her spine. She let her hands drop to her sides, forcing her breathing to slow.

Dorian stopped a few feet away. He looked down at Acey, who was still writhing on the ground like a crushed insect.

Dorian clicked his tongue. "Osteoporosis hitting you early, Acey? You look ridiculous down there."

Acey looked up. Terror flashed in his eyes, quickly buried under a wave of humiliated rage. He tried to push himself up, but his arm gave out, and he collapsed back onto the pavement with a sharp cry.

Dorian ignored him. He stepped closer to Elizabeth. Without asking, he reached out and grabbed her right wrist.

His large, warm fingers wrapped around her skin. He pulled her hand up, his eyes dropping to the blood soaking through the tissue. The smirk vanished from his face. His jaw tighted.

"Who did this?" Dorian's voice was a low, lethal rumble.

Elizabeth pulled her hand back, breaking his grip. "A rabid dog at the Goodwin house."

Dorian let out a dark chuckle. He turned his head slowly, looking back down at Acey. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Listen to me very carefully, Acey," Dorian said, his voice soft but laced with pure malice. "I enjoyed the show tonight. But if you ever come near my wife again, I will break the other arm myself. Do you understand?"

Acey scrambled backward like a crab. He scrambled to his feet, clutching his chest, and threw himself into the driver's seat of the Ferrari. The engine roared to life, and the tires squealed as the car tore out of the alley.

Elizabeth watched the taillights disappear. She turned toward the entrance of the bar.

Dorian stepped sideways, his massive frame blocking the neon light. He trapped her in his shadow.

He looked down at her. "I have to admit, I didn't expect you to flip a man Acey's size over your shoulder with one good hand."

Elizabeth tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze. "Are you worried I'll throw you over my shoulder next?"

Dorian laughed. The deep vibration hit her chest. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. The smell of mint and expensive cologne wrapped around her.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you try," he whispered, his voice dropping to a rough purr. "Preferably in bed."

Elizabeth's breath hitched, but she didn't back down. "I hope you have more stamina than your cousin."

Dorian's eyes darkened instantly. The teasing vanished, replaced by a heavy, consuming heat.

He stepped back, adjusting the collar of his coat, pulling the mask of the untouchable billionaire back into place.

"Since we are effectively partners in crime," Dorian said, his tone entirely business, "we need to make it ironclad. Meet me at City Hall tomorrow at nine. We're signing the papers."

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