Stealing the Mean Heiress’s Fiancé

"Take off your clothes."

The icy command landed like a blow. Serena Lancaster's face drained of color, her hands clenched around the fabric of her shirt.

She'd mentally prepared herself before coming here, but stripping in front of someone like this? This was beyond humiliation.

When Serena didn't move, Wendy Wright leaned back into the sofa, her voice dripping with mockery. "What's wrong? Having second thoughts? Or would you rather work at that strip club, taking it all off for a bunch of sleazy old men?"

Serena's whole body trembled.

Her mind flashed back to half an hour ago, to the underground third floor of that club. Those degrading scenes. Nauseating.

Better to go along with Wendy's plan than end up there. Pretend to be Wendy, sleep with her fiancé, get pregnant. That's all.

Better than being a stripper.

Serena's fingers shook as she unbuttoned her collar.

One piece after another fell to the floor until she stood there completely exposed.

Wendy's gaze swept over her dismissively. "Well, well. What would everyone at Acton University think if they knew? Their famous Vienna piano prodigy, selling her body to be a surrogate. Can you imagine the scandal?"

Serena's face went pale. She bit her lip, not daring to argue.

"Ms. Wright, you promised this would stay between us..."

That pitiful look only fed Wendy's jealousy, especially knowing she was about to send Serena into Zayn Sinclair's bed.

"Whatever. If Zayn wasn't such a germaphobe, you wouldn't even get this chance."

Wendy had partied too hard at that sex party last time. Ended up pregnant.

Getting an abortion would be discovered by the all-powerful Sinclair family. She needed a solution, fast. Find a virgin surrogate.

Zayn had always refused to touch her before. This time, she'd make damn sure it happened.

Wendy grabbed a revealing black lace slip and threw it in her face. "Put this on. Make him feel good tonight. Remember, don't slip up even once, or you'll end up just like those whores in the club's basement. Got it?"

"Yes, Ms. Wright. I'll do exactly what you want. I'll take good care of Mr. Sinclair."

Serena's fists clenched in humiliation as she pulled on the lingerie.

"Do this right and your family's debt disappears. Screw it up, and you know what happens."

Wendy tossed out that final threat and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor.

The frightened-rabbit look vanished from Serena's face. She slowly lifted her head, studying her reflection. The curvaceous body, the delicate features.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, a flash of deeply buried hatred flickering in her eyes.

Wendy, you finally took the bait.

...

Late that night, the dim bedroom filled with a strangely sweet fragrance.

Serena sat on the edge of the bed in that body-hugging lace slip, her heart pounding. A diffuser on the nightstand released that sickeningly sweet scent.

She knew what was in it. An aphrodisiac.

The door swung open. A tall figure walked in, bringing a wave of cold air with him.

Zayn stood there, his build imposing, his features sharp. But his expression was frozen, distant.

Before Serena could react, the sheer force of his presence made her hold her breath.

"Get out." Zayn's voice was colder than ice.

Serena went rigid. So Mr. Sinclair was even more heartless than the rumors suggested. This cold toward his own fiancée.

Then came the sharp click of the door locking from the outside. Wendy.

Zayn's voice cut through the darkness. "Wendy, if you want to keep living here, drop these stupid games."

The figure on the bed didn't move. Didn't respond.

He frowned, reaching for the light switch to see what the hell Wendy was up to now.

But then she threw herself into his arms.

A clean scent hit him immediately. Iris flowers. Nothing like Wendy's overpowering perfume. This was fresh, intoxicating.

Heat surged through his body instantly. A restless energy building low in his abdomen.

"You..." Zayn's eyes darkened.

He hadn't expected Wendy to be bold enough to drug him.

And that slip she was wearing barely covered her ass, her full breasts practically spilling out.

Combined with the aphrodisiac in the air, this was lethal.

Zayn turned his head away, gripping her shoulders to push her back.

Serena didn't give him the chance. The moment she'd decided on revenge, she'd accepted she was throwing everything away. No turning back.

She rose on her toes and kissed him.

That soft contact ignited something fierce in him.

Zayn's breathing grew ragged. He pushed her away, anger and desire warring in his eyes. "Stop. Stop now and I'll forget this ever happened..."

The second he opened his mouth, Serena saw her opening. She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding past his lips, tangling with his.

"Zayn, I want you." Her voice came out sultry, seductive.

That breathy whisper shattered what was left of Zayn's control.

"You asked for this. Don't blame me if I fuck you to death."

He bit out the words, then took over completely. His large hand gripped the back of her head as he kissed her hard, his other arm locked around her waist, giving her no room to retreat.

This was Serena's first time. The kiss left her weak-kneed, her eyes glazed.

The night dissolved into chaos. Endless, consuming passion.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains.

Zayn opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was that stark crimson stain on the sheets.

His pupils contracted.

Wendy was... a virgin?

The marriage arrangement between the Sinclair and Wright families had been set years ago. But Wendy's reputation around Acton City had always been wild, which was exactly why Zayn had resisted.

Still, the two families' business ties ran deep. The engagement had dragged on.

Then earlier this year, his grandfather Finnian Sinclair had issued an ultimatum. Zayn had compromised by letting Wendy move in, though he'd kept his distance.

Wendy had pushed back at first with her little schemes, but Zayn had shut them all down.

But last night...

Zayn's gaze shifted to the diffuser on the nightstand.

Flashes of last night's feverish intimacy flooded his mind. Even now, he felt a lingering pull, an unfamiliar craving that unsettled him.

Apparently, he'd been wrong about Wendy all along.

Zayn threw off the covers and headed to the bathroom. His lean, muscular body was covered in scratches, especially the red marks across his back. They brought back the memory of her soft moans.

A thread of guilt wound through him.

If Wendy wasn't what the rumors claimed, then he had no reason to keep delaying this marriage.

After showering, Zayn dressed in a tailored silver-gray suit and stepped out of the room.

In the open kitchen, a slender figure stood with her back to him, bathed in morning light that traced the elegant line of her neck and shoulders. A rich aroma filled the air.

Thinking of last night, something softened in Zayn's usually cold expression.

Almost without thinking, he walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

Serena went rigid. She spun around, stumbling back a step, her voice timid. "Mr. Sinclair..."

That unfamiliar voice made Zayn release her immediately, stepping back. Only then did he realize this woman wasn't Wendy.

But that scent clinging to her, that familiar, intoxicating fragrance, was identical to last night's.

"Who are you?"

Before Serena could explain, a coy, languid voice drifted down from upstairs.

"Zayn!"

Wendy descended the stairs in a white silk nightgown, deliberately showing off the marks on her neck. She pouted playfully. "You were so rough last night. I'm still sore..."

Zayn's sharp gaze landed on Serena's delicate face, then shifted subtly to the love bites on Wendy's neck.