Light sliced through the gap in the curtains, hitting Sarah directly in the face. Her head throbbed as consciousness returned in painful fragments. Unfamiliar sheets. The scent of cologne. A warm body next to hers.
Vegas. The bar. Dancing. D. She kept her eyes closed, piecing together the night before. They'd been drinking—a lot. After they'd come back to his room, things had escalated quickly. Her cheeks burned at the memory of his hands on her body, the way she'd abandoned all control. Something heavy rested on her left hand. She flexed her fingers and felt metal scrape against her knuckle. Her eyes flew open. A ring. A platinum band with a row of diamonds that caught the morning light and scattered it across the ceiling. "What the hell?" she whispered, sitting up too quickly. The room spun. Next to her, D groaned and rolled over, dark hair tousled across the pillow. The sheet slipped down, revealing a muscular chest and—on his left hand—a matching platinum band. Sarah scrambled out of bed, wrapping the sheet around herself, panic rising in her throat. On the nightstand beside her, a folded piece of paper caught her eye. She snatched it up. Certificate of Marriage. Her eyes locked on the names. Diego Francisco Castillo and Sarah Elizabeth Walsh. "No, no, no," she gasped, the paper trembling in her hands. Her movement woke him. Diego blinked slowly, confusion crossing his face as he took in the scene—Sarah standing half-naked, clutching a marriage certificate, horror etched on her features. He sat up, noticed the ring on his finger, and muttered something in Spanish that sounded distinctly like a curse. "You," Sarah finally managed, her voice ice-cold. "You knew exactly who I was last night." Diego's expression shifted from confusion to wariness. "What are you talking about?" She thrust the certificate at him. "This has your full name. Not 'D.' Diego Castillo. You knew who I was and you—" She couldn't even finish the sentence. He scanned the document, his face darkening. "I was drunk, but not that drunk." He looked up at her sharply. "I didn't plan this." "Right," Sarah laughed bitterly, gathering her scattered clothing from the floor. "Just like you didn't plan to vanish before your brother's trial." Diego was fully alert now, eyes narrowed. "Wait. How do you—" He stopped, studying her face more carefully. "Sarah Walsh. The prosecutor." "Congratulations, you married the woman who put your brother in prison," she snapped, pulling on her dress from the night before. "Was this some twisted revenge plot? Get me drunk, marry me, then what? Ruin my career?" "I had no idea who you were," Diego said, getting out of bed and pulling on his pants. His movements were controlled but tension radiated from him. "I knew my brother's prosecutor was a woman named Walsh, but I never saw pictures. I was out of the country before the trial started." Sarah didn't believe him. It was too coincidental. "We need to get this annulled. Immediately." "Agreed," Diego said flatly. "This can't get out. For either of us." "I'll find a lawyer," Sarah said, shoving her feet into her heels. "One who specializes in quickie Vegas marriages." "I'll take care of it," Diego countered. "I have connections here." "Of course you do," Sarah muttered, searching for her clutch. "The Castillo family has connections everywhere." She found her purse under a chair and checked her phone. Three missed calls from Megan. "I need to go." As she headed for the door, Diego's phone rang. He answered rapidly in Spanish, his expression growing more serious with each passing second. Sarah paused, hand on the doorknob, something in his tone making her turn back. "¿Estás seguro?" he asked, then switched to English. "How did he find out already?" A pause. "Yes, she's still here." Sarah's stomach dropped. He was talking about her. Diego ended the call and looked at her, his expression unreadable. "That was my family's consigliere. Someone at the courthouse recognized your name when they processed our marriage license last night." "And?" "And they told Vincent. In prison." The implications hit her like a truck. Vincent Castillo, the man she'd just helped sentence to fifteen years, knew she'd married his brother. "He's placed a bounty on your head," Diego said evenly. "Five million to whoever kills the prosecutor who married into the family." Sarah's knees weakened. She sank into the nearest chair. "This is insane. All of it." "The consigliere has already spread word that the marriage was intentional—my decision to protect the family while Vincent is away." "What?" Sarah looked up sharply. "Why would he do that?" "To save both our lives," Diego said grimly. "If my brother's men think I married you as some power move, they won't touch you. If they think it was an accident..." He didn't finish. "So what now?" Sarah asked, her prosecutor's mind already calculating moves and countermoves. "Now we play along until I can get this handled." "Play along?" she repeated incredulously. "I have a job, a life. I can't pretend to be married to the brother of New York's biggest crime boss!" "You can for a few days, or you can take your chances with my brother's hitmen," Diego replied coldly. "Your choice." Before Sarah could respond, a sharp knock came at the door. Three heavy raps that made both of them freeze. Diego motioned for her to stay quiet as he approached the door, checking the peephole. His shoulders tensed. "It's Marco. One of our enforcers," he whispered. "He's alone, but we need to sell this. Now." "What—" "Kiss me," Diego ordered, moving back toward her. "Are you out of your mind?" The knocking came again, more insistent. "Do you want to live?" Diego hissed. "We need to look like newlyweds." Sarah hesitated, then stepped into his space, pressing her body against his. Their lips met just as Diego opened the door. A tall, broad-shouldered man entered, his face impassive as he took in the scene. Sarah pulled away from Diego, trying to look appropriately flustered. Marco's eyes widened in recognition when he saw her. He immediately dropped to one knee, taking her left hand and pressing his lips to her ring. "La moglie del capo," he said reverently. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Castillo." Two more men entered behind him, both armed, both repeating the same gesture of loyalty. Sarah stood frozen as they kissed her ring, called her by a name that wasn't hers, welcomed her into a family she'd tried to destroy. Diego placed a protective arm around her waist, his message clear: she was under his protection now. "My wife and I need privacy," he told the men firmly. "We'll return to New York tomorrow." "Of course, boss," Marco nodded, backing toward the door. "We've secured the entire floor. No one will disturb you." When the door closed behind them, Sarah wrenched away from Diego's grasp. "This is a nightmare," she whispered. Diego's face was grim. "It's about to get worse. We need to go to New York. My family is expecting to meet their new daughter-in-law." "I can't just—" "You don't have a choice," Diego cut her off. "Vincent's bounty is real. The only thing keeping you alive is being recognized as my wife." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Believe me, this isn't what I wanted either." Sarah stared at the wedding ring on her finger, at the marriage certificate on the rumpled bed, at the man who was now, legally, her husband. One weekend in Vegas had turned into a matter of life and death.
