Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Best Man

body registering pain in places she'd never considered before. She lay still, cataloging: the ache in her

The wine. Julian's hands, his mouth, the t

d, muscled, marked with red lines she dimly remembered carving there with he

erforman

g the floor, her legs trembling but holding. She needed clothes. Her dress was destroyed, scattered across

head, the fabric falling to mid-thigh, covering everything and nothing. She found her clutch, her keycard, her ph

amber gloom. Kloe walked to the elevator, barefoot, her reflection in the polished metal s

shifts. She walked past the front desk without meeting anyone's eyes,

he house where she'd planned to raise children, host dinner parties, grow old in c

she bypassed Justen's missed calls and dialed a private number. It rang twice. "Martha," Kloe whispered, her voice cracking as the faithful assistant answered. "I need my grandmother. Please... I'm going to the Long Island h

-

g. Kloe paid the driver with shaking hands, her clutch's contents scattered-c

living room sofa, still in yesterday's tuxedo pants and wrinkled shirt, surrounded by a constellation of

rged as gravel. "The

usten looked worse than she'd imagined-unshaven, disheveled, the po

hat the hell is this? Whose shirt are you wearing, Kloe?!" His free hand shot out, grabbing the oversized collar of the white button-down and twisting th

Who'd called her a corpse while fucking her cousin on their wedding night. The fear s

o," sh

ack. "Who is he? Who did you-" His voice broke, rage and injury tangl

ss sounds, Justen? Noises people make in hotel rooms?" She pulled her wrist

lm arching toward her cheek with the inevitability of gravity. She didn't flinch. Didn't close her eye

ammed open