Stealing The Groom For Sweet Revenge

The cold marble of the vanity bit into Elizabeth's gripping fingers. She leaned heavily against the sink in the top-floor restroom of the Plaza Hotel. Her lungs pulled in shallow, ragged breaths. A foreign, suffocating heat crawled up her spine, pooling in her stomach and setting her nerve endings on fire.

She forced her heavy eyelids up. The woman in the mirror had flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. The champagne Meredith handed her ten minutes ago. It was laced.

Outside the heavy oak door, a hushed giggle echoed. Jami's voice.

"Yes, room 402. Give it five minutes. She won't be able to fight back."

Elizabeth's jaw ticked. A cold, deadpan smile stretched across her lips. She reached out with trembling hands and twisted the brass faucet. Ice-cold water rushed out. She cupped her hands and splashed it directly into her face.

The freezing temperature shocked her system, buying her a fraction of clarity. Drops of water slid down her chin, soaking into the neckline of her silk evening gown. Her mind remained sharp, fueled by a spike of adrenaline that cut right through the physical fever. Calling 911 meant a scandal, a blood test, and the Cantu family burying the evidence before the police even arrived.

She needed a shield. A weapon.

Her mind flashed to the rehearsal dinner downstairs. The man sitting in the darkest corner of the room, swirling his whiskey, watching the Cantu family with a look of absolute, bored disdain. Dorian Underwood. Her fiancé's cousin. The only man the Cantu family actually feared.

Elizabeth ripped a thick paper towel from the dispenser. She scrubbed the water from her face, her eyes hardening into sharp glass.

She pushed the restroom door open. The hallway was empty. The thick wool carpet swallowed the sound of her heels. She kept her back straight, hugging the wall to avoid the blind spots of the security cameras.

With every step, the burning in her veins flared hotter. Her skin felt like it was melting off her bones, the physical symptoms escalating, but her focus narrowed with deadly precision. She dragged her hand along the silk wallpaper to keep herself upright.

She reached the carved double doors at the end of the corridor. The presidential suite. She pulled in a sharp breath, raised her fist, and knocked.

Silence.

Her chest he heave. She hit the wood twice more, her knuckles aching.

The lock clicked. The heavy door swung inward. A wave of cool air, carrying the sharp scent of mint and rich cigar smoke, washed over her.

Dorian stood in the doorway. He wore a loosely tied black robe. His dark hair was messy, and his deep-set eyes narrowed with clear annoyance at the interruption.

His gaze dropped to her. It stalled on her flushed chest, the erratic pulse at her throat, and the glassy sheen in her eyes.

Elizabeth didn't wait for an invitation. She stepped forward, letting her knees buckle just enough so her weight crashed into his solid chest.

Dorian's arms instinctively banded around her waist. The heat radiating from her skin seeped through his robe. He raised a dark eyebrow.

"What exactly brings my future sister-in-law to my door at this hour?" His voice was a low, gravelly scrape that sent a shiver down her spine.

Elizabeth tilted her chin up. Her body was trembling with an unnatural, consuming heat, but her mind was an absolute fortress.

"Are you afraid of the Cantu family, Dorian?"

The provocation hit its mark. The amusement in his eyes darkened into something dangerous. A low chuckle vibrated in his chest.

His arms tightened around her waist like steel bands. He lifted her off her feet, turned, and kicked the heavy door shut.

The heavy thud plunged the room into dim, amber light.

Dorian walked her backward and tossed her onto the center of the massive king bed. He stood over her, his hands sliding into the pockets of his robe, studying her like a predator assessing a willing prey.

Elizabeth stared right back. She reached up and grabbed the collar of her ruined gown, pulling it down to expose her collarbone.

The drug surged, tearing a soft, breathless sound from her throat. She reached her hand out, her fingers curling into the lapel of his robe, pulling him down.

Dorian saw the calculation in her eyes. He knew exactly what she was doing. And he decided to play her game.

He didn't hesitate. He dropped his weight over her, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress. His mouth crashed down on hers, brutal and consuming.

The darkness of the suite swallowed them whole.

Morning sunlight sliced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains, hitting Elizabeth directly in the eyes. She blinked, her eyelashes heavy.

Her muscles ached with a dull, persistent throb. She turned her head against the feather pillow. Dorian was asleep beside her, his broad back rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

The memories of the night crashed into her brain. She pushed the duvet off her bare legs. The air conditioning chilled her heated skin. She picked up the discarded silk robe from the floor and slipped it over her shoulders.

Footsteps thundered in the hallway. Muffled, urgent whispers.

Then, the sharp beep of a master keycard.

Elizabeth's spine stiffened. She spun around, sat on the edge of the mattress, and deliberately pulled the lapels of her robe wide open, exposing her marked collarbone.

Dorian shifted. The noise woke him. He frowned, sat up slowly, and grabbed his own robe, pulling it over his shoulders with an irritating lack of urgency.

The bedroom door flew open, slamming against the wall.

Grandma Cantu stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on her silver-tipped cane. Her face was a mask of purple rage.

Behind her stood Jami, her eyes wide with a flicker of confusion before she forced them into manufactured horror, and Acey, whose face was already twisting into a violent scowl.

Jami slapped both hands over her mouth. "Oh my god!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the bed. She had stormed down the hallway primed for room 402, only to find it empty and the presidential suite door left ajar; now, seeing Elizabeth here instead, the shock in her voice carried an unscripted edge.

Acey's face turned a mottled red. He lunged forward. "You filthy whore!"

Grandma Cantu slammed her cane into the hardwood floor. The sharp crack echoed in the room. "What is the meaning of this, Dorian?"

Dorian leaned back against the tufted headboard. He lazily tied the belt of his robe. A slow, mocking smirk touched his lips.

"Exactly what it looks like, Grandmother," Dorian said. "We had a wonderful night."

Acey roared. He rolled up his sleeves and took a step toward the bed, his fists clenched.

Dorian's smirk widened into a lazy, taunting grin. He didn't even bother to stand up. "Go ahead, cousin," Dorian drawled, gesturing toward the flashing cameras in the hall. "I'm sure tomorrow's headline, 'Cantu Heir Throws Tantrum and Assaults Man in Bride's Bed,' will do wonders for the stock price. Give the press a real show." Acey froze mid-step. The mockery in Dorian's voice hit him harder than a fist, and the reminder of the cameras drained the impulsive rage from his chest, making him suddenly unwilling to cross the distance.

Seeing Acey back down, Jami rushed to the side of the bed. Tears spilled over her perfectly applied blush.

"How could you do this, Elizabeth?" Jami sobbed, her voice cracking. "How could you betray Acey? You ruined the wedding! You ruined everything for both our families!"

In the hallway behind them, the distinct click and flash of camera shutters erupted.

Meredith and Jami had brought the press. They wanted her publicly slaughtered.

Elizabeth lowered her head. She let her shoulders shake, playing the part of the broken, caught woman. Beneath the curtain of her hair, her lips curved into a cold smile.

Grandma Cantu barked at the bodyguards in the hall. "Get those vultures out of here!"

It was too late. The flashes had already captured the scene.

Acey pointed a shaking finger at Elizabeth. "I will never marry a disgusting bitch like you."

He puffed his chest out, looking at the remaining reporters in the hall. "The engagement is over. I am done with her."

Jami's eyes gleamed with triumph. She stepped back and wrapped her arms around Acey's waist, pressing her face into his shoulder to comfort him.

Grandma Cantu pointed her cane at the door. "Get your things and get out of my hotel, Elizabeth."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The execution was complete.

Dorian turned his head. He caught the slight shift in Elizabeth's posture. He saw the predatory glint in her eye as she lifted her head.

He leaned back, resting his arms on his knees. The show wasn't over.

Elizabeth reached out and picked up her phone from the nightstand. She wiped a dry eye with the back of her hand.

Elizabeth stood up. She pulled her robe tight, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. She looked at Acey and Jami, who were still clinging to each other.

"Get out," Acey spat, his face twisted in disgust.

Elizabeth didn't blink. Her thumb hovered over her phone screen. The video had been waiting on her device since the early hours-a file Dorian's security team had extracted from the spa's hidden surveillance and forwarded to her while she slept. The media contacts were simpler: the standard press distribution list every bride kept for wedding announcements, now repurposed for a very different kind of reveal. She tapped 'Send'.

Five seconds later, a chorus of sharp pings erupted in the room.

Every reporter's phone in the hallway chimed simultaneously with a high-priority email containing the video file. At the same moment, the hotel's guest network-still running on access protocols Dorian controlled-pushed an auto-play clip to every device connected on the floor, including Jami's and Acey's phones.

Jami pulled her phone from her pocket with a frown. She tapped the screen. All the blood drained from her face. The device slipped from her trembling fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

A high-definition video began playing on Acey's phone. The audio filled the tense silence of the bedroom.

It was Jami's voice, moaning loudly, mixed with Acey's breathless dirty talk. The video showed them pressed against the lockers in the hotel's spa changing room, completely naked and entirely occupied with each other.

Grandma Cantu stared at the screen of her own phone. Her hands shook so violently the cane clattered to the floor.

Acey's eyes bugged out of his head. He lunged for his grandmother's phone, trying to snatch it away, but a bodyguard stepped in and shoved him back.

In the hallway, the reporters went into a frenzy. Camera shutters fired like machine guns. The headline had just changed.

Elizabeth stood perfectly still. Her voice was flat, carrying clearly over the chaos.

"Who is the disgusting one, Acey?"

She looked at the reporters. "I was drugged last night and left in my room. I came here seeking help from Dorian. Meanwhile, my fiancé has been sleeping with my sister for months."

The narrative flipped in an instant. The cheating whore became the victim of a sick family conspiracy.

Jami dropped to her knees. She grabbed Grandma Cantu's skirt, sobbing hysterically. "It's a lie! It's deepfake! Please!"

Grandma Cantu kicked her leg out, sending Jami sprawling onto the carpet.

The old woman's chest heaved. The Cantu stock would plummet at the opening bell. The family name would be dragged through the mud. She needed a tourniquet, and she needed it now.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room and locked onto Dorian.

Grandma Cantu took a deep breath, forcing her spine straight. "The wedding tonight will proceed as planned."

Acey whipped his head around. "What? I can't marry her now!"

"You aren't marrying anyone," Grandma Cantu snapped. She pointed at Dorian. "Dorian will take your place."

A collective gasp sucked the air from the room.

"That's impossible!" Acey yelled.

"It is the only way to save this family," Grandma Cantu said, her voice like cracking ice. "We will issue a statement that Dorian and Elizabeth were the intended couple all along. Acey and Jami fell in love, and we supported them. It was a mutual switch."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. He looked at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth met his gaze. She tilted her chin up, a silent confirmation.

Dorian let out a low laugh. He stood up, walked over to Elizabeth, and wrapped a heavy arm around her bare shoulders. His skin was burning hot against hers.

He looked at his grandmother. "Fine. I'll take out the trash."

The bodyguards began physically shoving the reporters toward the elevators.

Dorian leaned down, his lips brushing Elizabeth's ear. "Well played, wife."