{"id":264428,"date":"2026-07-15T02:07:04","date_gmt":"2026-07-14T23:07:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/jilted-bride-erosa-knowles-1\/"},"modified":"2026-07-15T02:07:04","modified_gmt":"2026-07-14T23:07:04","slug":"jilted-bride-erosa-knowles-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/jilted-bride-erosa-knowles-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Jilted Bride – Erosa Knowles (1)"},"content":{"rendered":"
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The severe angle of his jawline cast shadows across his face. Danger radiated from him in waves that Jonathan had never possessed. Unfortunately, my exhaustion weighed more heavily than any attraction. “What do you want, Simeon?” I needed space to think, to decide if I wanted to continue this game with Jonathan.<\/p>\n

“To know why you’re still here,” he said. “He’s a loser. You saw the cards. You saw the sweat beading on his forehead. Why sit in a lounge ten floors above him instead of packing your bags?” “Because I’m not done.” The truth escaped before I could trap it behind my teeth. “Not done with him?” “Not done collecting,” I clarified. The martini burned down my throat as I swallowed. “He took something from me. Not just money. He took…” My words trailed off.<\/p>\n

Simeon’s eyes narrowed, the cool detachment in his expression cracking. Genuine interest flickered across his features. Not merely lust\u2014 though that lurked in the shadows of his gaze\u2014but respect. “Revenge is a high-variance game,” he murmured. “The house usually wins.” “I’m not playing against the house,” I met his stare without flinching. “I’m playing against a man who thinks he’s smarter than me. And I have the answer key.” Electricity sparked in the narrow space between us\u2014the unmistakable friction of two sharp edges meeting.<\/p>\n

Simeon’s hand slid across the table, palm facing upward. An invitation. “I have a suite on the penthouse level,” he said. His voice dropped, low and rough. “It’s quiet. The bourbon is better than what they serve down here. And I’m very good at balancing ledgers.” My heart stuttered against my ribs. The path lay open before me\u2014 upstairs to let this dangerous, beautiful stranger erase Jonathan from my skin. To drown in being wanted. To burn in recklessness. Jonathan’s phantom whispered in my ear. The memory of myself\u2014 so available, so pliant, so safe for him.<\/p>\n

I wasn’t safe anymore. And I certainly wasn’t easy. My gaze traveled from Simeon’s outstretched hand to the intensity in his eyes. “No,” I said. Not a flicker crossed Simeon’s face. No offense darkened his features\u2014only a glimmer of respect. “No?” “I’m not a gambler, Simeon,” I said, rising to my feet without a wobble.<\/p>\n

“And I’m not a rebound. If I come up to that room, it won’t be because I’m sad, or drunk, or trying to forget a loser.” My fingers curled around my clutch. “It’ll be because I’ve decided you’re worth the risk.” I bent toward him until our faces almost touched, the scent of sandalwood and rain washing over me. “And I haven’t finished my audit yet.”<\/p>\n

Simeon remained seated, his eyes tracking me like a predator, dark and hungry. A genuine smile spread across his face, slow and deliberate. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can wait.” “Don’t wait up,” I replied.<\/p>\n

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Fiona St. James was the “Good Girl.” The “Useful One.” The woman who filed down her edges to fit into the life Jonathan Kelly built for them. But thirty minutes of silence at the altar changed everything. When Jonathan flees to their honeymoon suite with his secrets and her money, Fiona trades her wedding silk for midnight lace and heads to Miami. She isn’t there for an apology; she\u2019s there for a settlement. But the audit reveals more than just a cheating fianc\u00e9. Fiona finds herself caught between a father who ignored her to “toughen” her up and Simeon Lange\u2014a man whose gaze is as sharp as a blade and whose interest in her is as dangerous as it is real.<\/p>\n

Fiona is no longer playing by the rules. She\u2019s rewriting the ledger. And this time, she\u2019s making sure everyone pays their debts. OceanofPDF.com Chapter 1 Thirty minutes. In my line of work, numbers tell stories. A discrepancy of one percent is an error. A discrepancy of five percent is negligence. A discrepancy of thirty percent is a crime. The tri-fold mirror reflected a woman in white, alone in the center of the bridal suite.<\/p>\n

My fingers tapped against my thigh, calculating. Jonathan’s absence stretched to thirty minutes. Not five. Not ten. Thirty. The probability of a traffic accident: 12%. The probability of a medical emergency: 4%. The probability that the man who pressed his lips to my forehead every Sunday morning with steaming coffee in hand, whose fingers interlaced with mine during every airplane shake, and whose whispered promises of being his “calm in the storm” had simply chosen not to come: 84%. My phone lay on the velvet vanity stool, black and silent as a gravestone.<\/p>\n

“Fiona?” The mirror caught his reflection before I could turn. Not Jonathan’s warm, reassuring tenor, but the heavy, gravel-grinding baritone that had echoed through my childhood. Marcus St. James, CEO of Cardinal Finance, filled the doorway. His eyes swept past my face, scanning the room like one of his quarterly reports\u2014searching only for the bottom line. The charcoal custom suit hugged his tall, athletic frame, the same one he wore to board meetings and funerals.<\/p>\n

His fingers brushed the Patek Philippe on his wrist, a gesture that cost more than the tuition for my master’s degree. “Daddy,” I whispered. My middle finger pushed my oversized tortoise-shell glasses higher\u2014the nervous tic I thought I’d buried. “He’s just late. The traffic on I-95 is\u2014” “He isn’t coming, Fiona.” His words hung in the air like a gavel strike.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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