Dishearten Chapter 7

The stalker scares his runaway bride...

Dishearten is a spicy, dark-gray romance inspired by Alice in Wonderland, and Book 2 in the Frayed Satin Series, interconnected standalones giving classic ballets dark and twisty HEAs. Preorder today! Releasing June 26, 2026.

New to the series? Start with Book 1, Unveil, a dark Swan Lake retelling where the ‘villain’ steals the girl. Or jump into the first generation with Rouge, a Moulin Rouge x Romeo & Juliet remix.

PS: This is a spicy romance that explores dark themes and should only be read by 18+ mature audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

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Trigger warnings: ROUGH DRAFT + SUBJECT TO CHANGE—aka DON’T GET ATTACHED Y’ALL… harsh language, violence depicted, sexual descriptions

Copyright © 2026 by Greer Rivers. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations for social media promotion on behalf of Greer Rivers. No part of this book may be used or uploaded to train Generative AI. AKA: Pls don’t steal or copy! It’s not nice and hurts authors’ feelings!

Dishearten Chapter 7

Hatch

Her eyes widen. “Y-Yes I have.”

“No…” I slowly shake my head, sounding out the word. “The stage stuff you’ve done. But you’ve never done this part before. What’d you call them? Semi-private dances? And the floor—you said it’s ‘more chatty’? That’s all you do, isn’t it? The stage and talk on the floor, where you don’t have to get this up close and personal?”

She rolls her lips between her teeth, and I know I’ve got her. Her small nod is the confirmation I don’t need.

“Okay then,” I say and rest back against the seat. I pat the spot next to me. “Let’s just talk.”

“Just… talk.” Her lips purse, eyes darting to where I patted the booth.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Just talk.”

“And you’re okay with that? You paid a lot of money.” Her brows are so furrowed her mask is bunched in the center, and her words are laced with suspicion. “Not many men would be okay with just talking, no hookah, no dance, and no touching.”

I’m not most men, I’m your goddamn fiancé. Is right on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t like the curious way she’s looking at me. The last thing I need to be is memorable, even if it’s all I want.

I cross my arms and scoot over the slightest of inches to allow her room. “I don’t know. Talking’s cheaper than therapy.”

She snorts. “Not with what you’ve paid.”

“Know the going price of therapy do you?” My question instantly makes me feel like such a prick, but the fire that flashed in her expression makes up for it.

“Do you?” she asks it with a hint of frustration, but I just answer honestly.

“I probably should.”

That makes her blink. She tilts her head, then as if she’s decided something, she steps forward to sit beside me.

I’m an asshole who refused to give her too much room, so she has to perch awkwardly on the edge of the seat to both sit facing me and without getting too close. This girl is trying so fucking hard not to touch me, it’d be laughable if it wasn’t starting to sting. I don’t even bother hiding my scowl as I glare at the careful inch between her knee and my thigh.

“What really brought you to The Rabbit Hole tonight, Hatter?”

“A girl.” Still annoyed, the word came out before I had a chance to finesse it, it’s only when she falters that I realize what I said.

“A girl?”