The Villainess Takes Both

I wore "gold digger" and "twofaced" like a name tag for four straight years. And I won the male lead. Drove the female lead clean out of the country while I was at it.

He went down on one knee with a diamond ring and asked me to marry him. I thought with her gone, I could finally sleep easy.

But three years engaged, and we never made it down the aisle. Year four, she came back.

And that same night, my fiancé, a man who lived and died by his gentleman code, said something came up at the company. For the first time ever, he stayed out all night.

I picked up my phone and texted the contact saved as "Seven Inches, Lean Waist." Chapter 1 I sent a message to "Seven Inches, Lean Waist." [Me: My place.

Come over.] Three seconds later. [Him: How many times is this, Bianca Marlowe?

You drink, you come looking for me.] [Him: I'm your ex, not your free booty call!] I opened my pinned chat.

Theodore's last message sat there from an hour ago. [Theodore: Emergency at the company. Not coming home tonight.] He couldn't even bother to make the lie a good one.

No mystery who he'd gone to see. The one that got away. My ex best friend. She'd flown back into the country that very day.

I tossed the phone into the couch and flopped back after it, face to the ceiling. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.

I pulled the door open and there was Marcus Carrington's sour face. Brows knotted.

Impatience stacked all over those sharp, pretty features. "What, your fiancé can't keep up anymore?" He scoffed, then just stood there at the doorway, prim, like a stray cat waiting to be sweettalked inside.

I smiled, hooked a finger in his tie, and yanked him through the door. Then I shut him up with my mouth. His breathing went rough.

His arm clamped around my waist like an iron band, and just like that he took over, pinning me against the entryway wall, kissing me hard and fast and mean.

When it broke, I slumped against his chest, panting. My voice came out tipsy and wounded. "He's not coming home tonight… Willow's back." The arm around my waist went stiff. Oh.

Right. Almost forgot. His highness here kept a girl buried in his heart too. His own one that got away.

Standard equipment for a billionaire alpha, I guess? "So are you leaving him or not?" He bit down on my earlobe, voice gone vicious.

After all, his girl was the reason we broke up in the first place. "Not leaving." I shook my head, sweet and cruel about it. "I worked way too hard to steal him." He went quiet for a few seconds.

Then a low laugh, want and pity mixed together in his eyes. "Bianca Marlowe, you really are that cheap." I didn't answer. You steal a thing, you don't hand it back.

Even if it was never yours to begin with. My name is Bianca Marlowe. Ask anyone in our circle about me and you get the same three answers. Gold digger. Twofaced. Zero shame.

I never argued. I did, after all, waste four whole years of my youth on my best friend's boyfriend. Theodore Whitmore. Campus heartthrob, student body president.

Cold, polished, born expensive, never looked anyone full in the eye. I picked him out on day one of freshman year. I threw every flirty look I owned at him.

He stared straight through me, then turned around and took my roommate Willow Hastings by the hand. If this world was one giant fluffy romance, Willow was the female lead.

Sweet, scatterbrained, harmless as a bunny. Without making a sound, she bagged the most untouchable man on campus. And me? I was proof of the male lead's charm.

Look at her, the campus it girl, chasing Saint Theodore and embarrassing herself. He won't even glance her way. Ugh. Let's not. Theodore's love was the kind you could show off.

Expensive gifts, one after another. You could watch Willow get richer in real time. She tossed me a luxury skincare set she couldn't use up. Just like that. Casual.

And that actually got to me. Me. The gold digger. The first richlady skincare of my life came as charity from my rival. Chapter 2 A free gift buys a kind mouth.

The other roommates gushed and blessed their storybook love. All I felt was jealousy, and a hot lump of notfair. I looked in the mirror. Same face.

Bright, bold, everything right where it should be. And it clicked. Oh. So I got the villainess script. Fine. Then I'd do exactly one thing: steal Theodore Whitmore.

Willow called me her best friend. She dragged me along on her dates, every single one.

I couldn't tell if she was truly missing a brain cell, or just that confident in Theodore, or… maybe she was doing it on purpose? I gave her intentions the darkest read I had.

The first time Willow made me the third wheel, I did full glam. Cutout crop top. Brandnew perfume. Head to toe, every inch of me was trying. Then we got there and I froze.

A blazing Sichuan hotpot joint. Willow beamed through the introductions. "This is my best friend, Bianca. We share a dorm. Well?

Isn't she gorgeous?" Theodore got a clear look at me and his eyes narrowed. I waved, all grins. "Theodore. Heard so much about you." He twitched one corner of his mouth.

That counted as a reply. The steam melted my makeup. The chili had me coughing nonstop. Willow left for the restroom.

I hissed and panted over the bubbling red broth, grabbed a glass, and chugged. My nose ran like a faucet. Bang! A heavy thud. I flinched.

The glass noodle slipped off my chopsticks and made its escape. I looked up. Theodore held a glass. A lipstick mark sat on the rim.

He was looking at me like I was a bag of trash. "Bianca Marlowe. Don't tell me that was an accident." I looked down. My own glass sat right by my hand.

Same lipstick mark. "This was a genuine accident." I raised my hand and swore it. "I've seen plenty of twofaced girls like you." He laughed, cold. "Why you're cozying up to Willow.

You know exactly what you're after." Prejudice is a mountain.

His was a whole mountain range. "See, there you go again." I rolled my eyes so hard my colored contacts nearly slid loose. "My makeup's melted. My hair's flat.

Look at this face and tell me I'm in any state to seduce you." He choked for a second.

His eyes flicked over my sweatslicked collarbone and jumped away just as fast. "And that outfit isn't trying way too hard to seduce someone?" "Yep.

Like it?" I tugged the strap of my top, reasonable as anything. "Wore it for you." "A girl dresses for the man she wants. Never heard that one?" I threw him a wink with zero shame.

His face went red. Visibly. By the second. Rage. So much rage he smashed the glass in his hand. "Making a pass at your best friend's boyfriend.

Are you stupid?" He ground the words out through his back teeth, one at a time. "You're fucking disgusting." The glass wasn't the only thing that broke. So did my heart.

My sense of shame, I mean. Because that look on his face, disgusted and clean out of moves, felt way too good. "Mmhm. You're right.

I can get more disgusting." I sniffed, wiped my mouth, stood up, grabbed his collar, and pulled him down. And kissed him. One second. Two. His eyes flew wide. He shoved me off.

Hard enough that I staggered. He scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth like he wanted to take the skin off with it. "Get away from me!" He looked ready to throw up.

Cold sweat beaded at his temple. "Bianca Marlowe, you're insane! Don't make me hit a woman!" "Relax." I grinned, easy and shameless. "Willow's on her way back.

You don't want your girlfriend hearing about this, do you?" He glared at me, cold and hard, his face as red as the hotpot broth.

Chapter 3 Willow came back, all concern. "Theo, why is your mouth so red?" Theodore took Willow's hand and walked her straight out.

I sat back down and took my time finishing the tripe. After that, Theodore upgraded me from invisible to unbearable. If we crossed paths in a hallway, he took the long way around.

At student government meetings, he shuffled me off to the most useless committee.

The next time we ran into each other, he finally cracked. "I didn't think you could be this cheap." "Say it again. That felt kind of good." I leaned in closer.

I even reached for his hand. He jumped a full mile back, disgust and shock trading places on his face. I guess it's like hitting a dog and getting your hand licked.

With me, he was flat out of moves. The first time I got inside Theodore's social circle, Willow brought me. She said Theodore was taking her to meet his friends. She was nervous.

She begged me to come along for backup. I didn't say no. Wherever Theodore was, I'd be. When the door to the private lounge room swung open, the noise cut out for a beat.

Willow and I walked in, one behind the other. Somehow, right at the door, she fell half a step behind me.

So every stunned, curious pair of eyes in the room landed on me. "Is this the girlfriend? Welcome, welcome!" "The real deal, at last!

Whit sure kept you locked away!" Some fast mouth was already hollering with his glass in the air. I froze.

A second later, Willow peeked out from behind me, wearing that familiar, harmless smile. I stepped aside at once, voice pitched to carry just enough. "Your girlfriend's right here.

The headliner always goes on last." Every gaze swung over. Willow ducked her eyes, shy, hands with nowhere to go. Theodore looked up from the center of the couch.

The second he saw me, his brows slammed shut. Then his gaze moved past me and landed on the girl at my back. "Willow. Come here." Willow flew into his arms like a little bird.

Theodore tucked her against his side and introduced her to his friends, in a voice softer than any I'd ever heard from him. Me? Not one word.

Willow nestled in, cheeks pink, looking like she'd forgotten I existed at all. I stood there. Hung out to dry. "The girlfriend's friend?

Come play!" Someone handed me a drink and an easy out, all in one motion. "Sure." I smiled, took it, sat. And my ears caught the low conversation over by the couch.

Theodore's voice, dripping open annoyance. "Why did you bring her?" Willow mumbled, small. "Bibi wants a boyfriend too… I figured your friends must all be amazing." "Ha." A cold huff, pure contempt. "She's dreaming.

Nobody in my circle would look twice at a scheming snake like her." Then his tone melted into fond, helpless indulgence, one finger tapping the tip of her nose. "My silly Willow.

Stay away from Bianca Marlowe. You're too clean to see how dirty she plays. She's always stealing your spotlight.

Just now, she—" "Bibi's not like that…" Willow pushed back, soft as cotton. Theodore let it go. He pulled her closer, then lifted his head like he'd sensed something.

I was staring right at them, savoring every word of my eavesdropping. Our eyes locked. No caughtintheact panic from me.

My lashes dipped, my gaze put a hook in it, and I threw it at him. Blatant. He looked away like I was something spoiled. Eyes back. Glass up. I don't hide what I am. Never have.

The group started up the King card game. Everyone draws a numbered card, and whoever pulls the King hands out dares by number.

At first they played it tame, minding sweet, innocent Willow. Until the guy beside me shot up with a yell. "AHHH!

I drew the King!" Chapter 4 He swept the room with a grin that promised trouble. "It's the midnight round. We need some spice.

My command: numbers three and nine swap matching profile pics for three days!" Oooh. The room broke into suggestive whistling. I checked my card.

Three. "Three, present." I waved my card, thrilled. "Where's my lucky match?" A few seconds of standoff. "I'm nine." Theodore tossed his card down, flat. Oh no.

Everyone traded looks. The most awkward possible thing had just happened. Willow bit her lip.

She and Theodore had switched to handpicked matching profile pics that very day. "I'll take the penalty." Theodore picked up his glass, clean and quick.

Willow stopped him. "It's fine, Theo. If it's you and Bibi, I don't mind one bit." "The future missus is a class act." The compliment landed instantly. Theodore said nothing.

He drank three full glasses back to back and didn't spare me a single glance. The room started up on cue. "Whit, most devoted man alive!" The worry on Willow's face turned to honey.

I just watched him. Him turning me down didn't sting. My brain flooded with something closer to a high. The stronger the gentleman code, the more I wanted to wreck it.

When my turn came around again: "Seven and ten. Name the sexiest thing about each other." "I'm seven." A lazy voice rolled out. I turned toward it.

A man lounged in the corner of the couch. I'd clocked him the moment I walked in. A face that could go round for round with Theodore's, but the air around him was something else.

A leopard that hadn't finished waking up. Danger wrapped in slouch. Marcus Carrington. Later I'd learn he was Theodore's cousin.

His gaze landed on me and took one slow, unhurried lap. "This beauty… there is nothing on her that isn't sexy." A beat. "But the sexiest part has to be that beauty mark on the tip of her nose." His eyes drifted somewhere far away.

The whole room went delicately quiet. I got it. There was a grave in this man's heart, and buried in it was his own one that got away.

And apparently that beauty mark outranked my entire body. It stung. Who exactly was he seeing when he looked at me?

A face this gorgeous, and it still couldn't flood your senses and squat in your head rentfree? It actually got to me. Again. I lifted a hand and covered my face, playing bashful.

Covering exactly one thing: the beauty mark. Leaving only a pair of eyes pretty enough to be one of a kind. "Keep staring like that, Mr.

Carrington, and a girl might think you're falling for her." He came back to himself. His gaze refocused on my face, and this time there was interest in it.

I stepped outside the lounge room for air. A middleaged man blocked my path, reeking of liquor. "Hey, pretty thing. Have a drink with me?" I went around him.

He blocked me again. "What, too good to drink with me?" I stopped. Ran my eyes down him, then up him, and laughed through my nose. "How much is even in that wallet?

Why would I waste breath on you? This broke, and still out here fishing for attention?" He lost it and swung his hand up to hit me. His wrist froze in midair