Married To My Billionaire Nemesis

　　EDEN

　　No way. I forgot my wallet. What the hell, Eden?

　　I'm already ten minutes late for a high school reunion I've been stressing over for the last three months. Three freaking months!

　　Damn it!

　　Annoyance burns hot in my chest as I reverse and speed back towards my apartment, which is at least ten blocks away.

　　Tonight is an opportunity to convince myself that I am indeed an accomplished adult. But apparently, the universe has other plans.

　　Because the moment I reach my apartment door, I notice it.

　　The door's open.

　　Every nerve in my body goes still.

　　My brain does this stupid thing where it tries to rationalize. Maybe I forgot to close it properly? Maybe the wind jerked it open?

　　Except I strongly remember locking it.

　　Or maybe… Alex, my boyfriend, decided to pop in. We live here together after all. No, wait. He's supposed to be miles away in Tokyo for a business meeting.

　　I grip my umbrella tighter. I'm already late. Why is this happening now?

　　Slowly, I inch forward, like I'm auditioning for a horror movie. One I definitely don't want to be in.

　　Inside, the living room light is on. A muffled grunt reaches my ear, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

　　"W-who's there?" I call, in what I hope is a threatening tone but probably sounds more like a panicked squirrel.

　　When I don't get any response, I inch closer, raising my umbrella over my head.

　　Then, I push the door open wider.

　　I freeze at the mortifying display in front of me.

　　Alex, my boyfriend of three years, is being rammed into from behind by a naked muscular male two times his size. Right there in our living room.

　　Holy…shit.

　　My brain practically glitches, my left eye twitching.

　　"Alex?" I croak and they both freeze, bare ass in the air.

　　"Eden," Alex blurts, his face pale. "This isn't—"

　　My heart is racing so fast now, it actually hurts. I dig my acrylic nails into my palm, letting the burn keep me sane. Don't lose it, Eden, I tell myself. Even as the tears begin to gather.

　　"Oh please," I say, my voice trembling as I try to hold on to sarcasm for dear life. "Don't you dare say what it looks like, because what it looks like is exactly what it is."

　　Every memory of us floods my mind until I'm practically choking on it.

　　The man pulls out, mumbling something about not knowing he had a girlfriend. He grabs his clothes, quickly slides them on, and hurries out.

　　For a second, all I hear is my own heartbeat and the faint sound of my dignity collapsing.

　　"You're home early," Alex says weakly.

　　There's a part of me that wants to scream. Another that wants to cry. Instead, I let out a slightly deranged laugh.

　　"Wow. You know, I actually thought today couldn't get any worse. I was wrong. It's always good to be reminded that life still has surprises."

　　"Eden, please—"

　　"Don't. We're done." I grab my wallet from the coffee table, forcing out a shaky breath. "I've got a reunion to attend. You can finish whatever that was. He's got great ass."

　　I walk out before he can answer, my head held high. Meanwhile, my mascara is already threatening to betray me.

　　But if I'm going to humiliate myself tonight, it's not going to be because of him.

　　I'm not… I'm not that weak.

　　…….

　　If there's a ranking for "Top Ten Ways to Ruin My Night," attending my high school reunion right after my heart's been ripped out sits at number one.

　　Number two? Doing it in heels that pinch like hell.

　　Unfortunately, forgetting to fake a boyfriend before showing up makes it to that same list.

　　The minute I step into the VIP LOUNGE, my breathing quickens. Everyone's glammed up, sipping champagne like their egos depend on it. A live jazz band is playing in the corner. The air smells like money and perfume. Lots of it.

　　I adjust my sunglasses and clutch my tiny purse, my hands shaky. It's a pathetic attempt to hide the possible redness of my eyes.

　　Breathe, Eden. Smile. Pretend you're not still the same socially awkward mess who tripped over her own shoelace at graduation. Pretend you didn't just get cheated on. Fake it till you make it, right?

　　"Eden Clarke!"

　　I freeze.

　　That voice belongs to Veronica Shaw. Head cheerleader, former queen bee, and current walking Botox advertisement.

　　"Wow," she says, air-kissing the air around my face. "You look... exactly the same."

　　I plaster on a polite smile. "Thanks. So do you. Except, you know, slightly... tighter."

　　She blinks, not catching the sarcasm. "What have you been up to? Married? Kids? Billion-dollar startup?"

　　"Oh, you know." I shrug. "Just trying to stay alive."

　　Cue laughter from her little circle of followers. Fantastic. Three minutes in, and I'm already the entertainment.

　　My gaze automatically slides over to Him. Standing across the room is my teenage crush.

　　Golden hair, too-white teeth, dazzling blue eyes, and a million-dollar smile.

　　Dylan Foster.

　　The boy who made algebra bearable. The boy who once smiled at me in the hallway and made my entire week. He's older. Broader. Hotter.

　　And…

　　My gaze roams over his bare fingers. No ring, whew!

　　Maybe—just maybe—this night could redeem itself.

　　I'm getting ahead of myself, but right now, it's better than breaking down.

　　He turns, and our eyes meet.

　　Okay, Eden. You've got this. Be confident. Be normal. Don't trip.

　　I walk up to him with what I hope is casual grace. "Dylan, hi! It's been forever!"

　　He smiles warmly. Then he steps aside, revealing the woman clinging to his arm.

　　It's Savannah Hilton. My ex-best friend who ended our relationship because she thought I had my eyes on Carter, her boyfriend at the time. When in reality… I only had eyes for Dylan.

　　"Eden, meet my fiancée," he says, pride dripping from every word.

　　I blink. Smile. Blink again.

　　"Oh, wow. Congratulations."

　　Internally, I'm breaking apart painfully slow..

　　"You remember me, right?" Savannah says, and I smile.

　　My voice trembles when I speak. "It's been a while, Savannah."

　　Veronica walks up to us and grins.

　　"I remember now! You used to have such a big crush on Dylan in school. You'd blush whenever he said your name!"

　　Laughter ripples through their group. Suddenly, it feels like I'm a teenager again back at Hawton Academy. I'd always been the outcast. No matter how hard I tried. You would think coming from a rich family would help. But no, it didn't.

　　"Guess that's why you're still single, huh?" someone teases.

　　I let out a shaky laugh. "Actually... actually, no."

　　Oh no, Eden. What are you doing?

　　"I'm not single," I hear myself say. "My boyfriend's just... parking the car."

　　The silence that follows is nuclear. Veronica tilts her head, smirking.

　　"Really? He's here?"

　　My brain short-circuits.

　　"You know what? I'm leaving. I have somewhere else to be," I say.

　　"Come on, now, Scrap. Introduce your boyfriend to us," Parker, one of the bad boys from back then, urges.

　　Anger burns in my chest at the mention of that old nickname.

　　My phone rings, and Alex's name flashes on the screen. Tears well up in my eyes, and I swallow past the lump in my throat.

　　"That's my boyfriend. He's, uh, picking me up right now." I wave my phone. "If you'll excuse me, he hates waiting."

　　And I march—no, flee—towards the exit, my heart pounding so hard I swear it's trying to resign.

　　Perfect, Eden. Absolutely perfect. Now all you have to do is leave this building before someone—

　　I slam right into a wall.

　　Except this wall is warm. And breathing. And smells sinfully expensive. Strong hands grip my waist to steady me, and a deep, smooth voice says,

　　"Hey, babe. Leaving already?"

　　I look up.

　　Jawline sharp enough to end civilizations. Green eyes colder than a stock market crash. That smug, soul-destroying smirk.

　　Hayden. Freaking. Wolfe.

　　My nemesis.

　　He arches a brow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

　　"More like a demon," I mutter.

　　A slow grin tugs at his lips. "Good to see you too, squirrel."

　　"Hayden?" Someone comments, their voice laced with disbelief.

　　"You're dating…Scrap?" Veronica gasps.

　　Hayden chuckles, pulling me flush against his chest.

　　"Of course."

　　Well, shit.

　　I part my lips to protest, but he dips his head, his lips dangerously close to my ear. "Play along, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low enough to melt my last three brain cells.

　　And I do. Because apparently, my survival instincts have left the building.

　　"Um... yeah," I say weakly, plastering a shaky smile on my face. "My boyfriend."

　　I'm shaking with both rage and infinite disgust at the mere sight of him. But what can I do? I'm trapped.

　　He straightens up and flashes the group his movie-star grin. "If you'll excuse us, I need to talk to my squirrel for a minute."

　　He still hasn't dropped that nickname, what the fuck?

　　Before I can blink, his hand is already on the small of my back, steering me out of the lounge room.

　　The moment we hit the empty hallway, I spin and slam my heel into his shin.

　　"OW! What the hell, Clarke?!" he grits out, staggering back.

　　"That's for—" I wave a hand wildly. "For whatever that was!"

　　He scowls, rubbing his leg. "Is that seriously the thank you I get for saving your ass in there?"

　　"Saving me?!" I bark out a laugh. "You practically ambushed me! What are you even doing here, Hayden? And were you—" I point at him accusingly. "Were you eavesdropping on me?!"