Page 1 of The Villain Edit

Chapter one

Ashley

I’mthevillainofseveral stories, but mostly my own.

Maybe other people tell themselves they’re the heroes of theirs, but there’s power in embracing the truth. I’m at my best, truest self when I’m at my worst.

Take tonight. My cousin invited me to her wedding and I’m here to steal her man.

Any minute Dominic Fontana will walk into this boudoir-styled dressing room and see me draped seductively on a chaise in lingerie that reveals everything. I hope he’ll see me, sweep me into his arms, and take me on this chaise, but I don’t expect him to. I don’t need him to. He only needs to be in this room with me for a few minutes.

He might not be happy, at first, but he’ll come to see how much better we are together. I’m doing him a favor, showing him now so he won’t discover it down the line.

We’ve had this connection since childhood, but our timing is off. I can’t wait one year, or two or more, for this inevitable divorce. Something in my life has to change, and I’m afraid if I don’t take this opportunity, the universe might not give me another chance.

I have nothing to lose. My career is effectively over after my season on the reality TV showLove on the Lineand my extended family…well, they don’t like me anyway.

Footsteps come down the hallway and stop at the door.

This is it.

There’s a mirror on the dressing table, and I turn my head for reassurance. My platinum blonde hair is perfectly tousled, my lips are the perfect shade offuck mered, matching the delicate lace of my lingerie. It was a bitch to put on, ribbons crisscrossing my body. Uncomfortable under my black dress.

Yes, I wore black to this sham of a wedding.

I don’t look too closely at my reflection. If I don’t see the slim shadow of fear in my eyes or the uncertain tremble on my lips, they don’t exist. All I see is what Nic will see when he opens the door.

Me.

Hot as hell. Ready to commit a sin or two.

The door opens and I say a quick prayer that the tits I gave myself for my twenty-third birthday will keep him in the room long enough for this to work.

The lighting is dim, but the man moving through the shadows of the short hallway has a natural panther-like grace. Nic, for how incredibly hot he is, doesn’t move like this. I frown. I don’t think his shoulders are this broad either.

Sitting straighter, I peer into the darkness. Something’s wrong.

This isn’t Nic.

Oh fuck.

The man steps into the light and sees me, his jaw dropping.

My eyes are burning with tears I don’t dare shed. I am going to murder my assistant Lea so dead it will be like she never existed.How could she mix them up?

Gabriel Sinclair, Hollywood’s golden boy, is staring at me like someone dropped a whole live squid on his plate and he’s not sure if it’s a prank.

Gabriel and I have never met, but everyone knows him. He rescues kittens from trees (twice) and helps old ladies with their shopping.Literally.It was on the damn news. He’s an obnoxious do-gooder who manages to pull off theI’m so much better than youwithout opening his damn mouth.

He clears his throat as he tugs at the cuff of his suit, and it sounds like the universe slamming another door shut on my path to Nic.

No. I refuse to accept it. This still could work. They look a little alike—averylittle. Enough that Gabriel Sinclair was cast as Nic’s replacement in the Warwick superhero franchise. They’re both white, but Gabriel’s skin has a golden hue compared to Nic’s porcelain. Gabriel’s hair isn’t as dark, his eyes are dark brown not gray, and he’s a smidge bigger, his features a little stronger.

Gabriel Sinclair is also the kind of guy who needs six months of dating and a diamond ring before he’ll take a woman to bed, only to fuck her in missionary. Once. With the lights off.

Nic would fuck a woman against the wall in a club without needing to know her name.

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel’s voice is deep. Plush. “I must have the wrong room. I’ll—”

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