Sleeping With The Enemy's Empire

Summary

My roommate was a kept woman. The kind who collected designer bags and slathered her face in five-hundred-dollar La Mer creams, playing house on someone else's dime.

I would stare at my own reflection in the mirror, tracing the lines of my face, knowing full well she wasn't even half as beautiful as I was. And so, with cold, calculated precision, I maneuvered my way into Tristan Roth’s bed.

I played the game perfectly. Right up until the night I stood hidden in the shadows of a velvet-lined corridor at an exclusive Upper East Side social club, listening to Tristan laugh with his friends.