Page 1 of The Sweetest Devotion

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“Stop pouting.”

No matter how many times my mother made this demand, I couldn’t stop myself from fidgeting and scowling. My stomach was in knots, my palms were sweating, my skin crawled, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

This wasn’t what I wanted.

On paper, I had it all with no means to complain. And really, there was very little for me to complain about. Born with a diamond-encrusted spoon in my mouth, brought up among the upper echelon, and having attended a decent school for a time, it wasn’t a lie that any problems I may have had would be deduced as “First World Problems.”

I had never wanted for anything. Didn’t know what it was like to go to bed hungry or worry about choosing between paying rent or a light bill. I had never suffered a day in my life. So why was I currently in the midst of a grave mental breakdown?

It was like something out of a soap opera.

My parents had done the unthinkable: they’d gone behind my back and sold me to the Devil himself. And tonight, they were hosting my engagement party.

All of the who’s who of Hampton Hills were filling my parents’ lavish home to celebrate this joyous occasion—only, there was no joy to be had on my part.

My ring was gaudy, ostentatious, tacky—whatever you wanted to call the huge diamond my new fiancé had gotten me. A fifteen-carat cushion-cut ring set in platinum marred the fourth finger on my left hand, regrettably.

None of this was whatIwanted.

My father was Damon Nichols, co-founder of The Residence Hotel hospitality empire. And in order to solidify his latest contract with Las Vegas casino Cartier, he promised something he couldn’t afford. Something I had no say in.

My father had fallen ill, this new deal was potentially his last as chairman of the Nichols & Wagner group he’d built, and outside of a percentage of their joint venture, all the owner of the Cartier Casino wanted wasme.

I’d spent my whole life living in the lap of luxury, traveling the world and seeing all the exciting places my father had built his hotels in. I would give it all up for the opportunity to choose my future and my partner. Okay, maybe noteverything. I loved my purse and shoe collection too much to completely part with it.

Still, this was a disaster.

The guests were down on the first floor, while my mother attempted to coax me out of my old bedroom to make my debut and greet my fiancé.

Stylists had taken care of my hair and makeup as my mother saw to it that a rack of dresses was delivered to the house this morning.

My dress cost ten thousand dollars, and on any other night—that wasn’t my engagement party—I would’ve shined in it. Socializing, taking pictures, laughing at really corny dad jokes—the whole nine yards. But facing the dread that was my first official public appearance with my fiancé, Cain Carter, I was resenting the fact that there wasn’t enough material to shrink into the dress.

My flirty tulle mini dress featured a plunging neckline that offered up my busty cleavage, a ballerina-like skirt that accentuated my long legs, and an embroidered star pattern, which made me really stand out.

The sheer tulle material called for a nude bodysuit underneath, but I hadn’t bothered. If any of the evening’s guests stared hard enough, they’d see right through the dress. For my fiancé’s sake, I was nice enough to wear a nude thong underneath.

“You could have it alotworse,” my mother said dismissively, as if she were dealing with a child and not her twenty-four-year-old daughter. “He’s handsome, doesn’t drink or smoke allegedly, and he doesn’t have any kids for you to take after. You could be with an old troll.”

It was easier for her to say; she wasn’t the one being forced to marry a stranger. Her father hadn’t manipulated her into marrying against her own choosing as a “dying wish,” and for the good of the family business.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know Cain—well, I didn’t—but I didn’t want him.

He’d asked me out twice before and I’d turned him down both times. Once, because I was dating my ex, Gaius Jones. And the second time because I simply wasn’t interested. There was something about Cain I couldn’t put my finger on, something that told me to run the other way. Something…wrong.

He came out of nowhere. The long-lost heir to James Carter’s fortune. James had been the previous CEO and founder of the Cartier Casino in Las Vegas, a single property that was easily the most successful gambling and entertainment resort in Sin City. When he’d died suddenly at the age of sixty-eight, leaving behind a widow who hadn’t borne him any children, many were stunned when Cain came forward as the sole inheritor to Cartier holdings.

His mother was unknown, but through two DNA tests and legal binding from James himself, it was proven without a doubt that Cain was now in charge of the Cartier. No one knew him or where he came from, and that made men like my father uneasy. Cain was a wild card. The youngest billionaire in the owner’s box.

He was already on the cover ofForbesandFortunebefore he was twenty-five.

Now at twenty-seven, Cain was the most eligible bachelor on the West Coast. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Extremely private, he’d only been seen once or twice with a woman, some beauty who was linked to a modeling career or some form of entertainment.

And now he was linked to me.

I didn’t know much about the Bible, but I knew it was written that one of the most perfect angels turned out to be Satan. And considering Cain, I could believe that. He was young looking, mysterious, and intimidating in his Tom Ford suits, but there was no mistaking the air of wrongness about him.

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