2. Who Did I Just Fuck?

I shrieked, nearly tripping over myself as I scrambled to stand. My limbs didn’t want to cooperate. My mind was a tangled mess of horror, disbelief, and adrenaline. “This isn’t a game! You weren’t even supposed to be here!”

The stranger’s grin only widened as I stumbled upright, breathing like I’d run a marathon. His wrists strained against the ropes—not out of panic, but to test them. Leisurely. Like he had all the time in the world.

“Technically, neither were you. I mean, unless you usually show up in lingerie with a bottle of champagne and a gag. In which case…” His eyes raked over me slowly, his voice dipping low. “...your fiancé is a very lucky man. Or, was.”

My stomach flipped. “Don’t—don’t talk about Ezra—!”

“Oh, now we’re bringing him up? Bit late, Angel. You were already riding me like I was your bachelorette gift.”

“I’m not!”

A laugh tumbled from him, deep and amused. “Feisty. I like that.”

“I swear to God,” I hissed, heart crashing against my ribs. “You better start talking or I’m calling the police.”

He blinked slowly, genuinely intrigued. “Right after you explain why you kidnapped, tied, gagged, and—how do I put this gently?—absolutely ravished a stranger six days before your wedding?”

My mouth dropped open. Then shut. Then dropped again.

Oh god. He had a point.

A very horrifying point.

“What did you do to Ezra?” My voice cracked like shattering glass. “Where is he?!”

“If I’d done something to him, do you think I’d still be tied up, Angel?”

I hesitated. Damn it, he had another point.

He smirked again, slow and crooked. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

“You’re psychotic.”

“Probably,” he said cheerfully. “But that’s not today’s headline, is it?”

I backed away to the bathroom, practically clawing at the doorknob. “This is a mistake. I’m so sorry you got tangled up in this, but—wait there.“

“Seriously?”

With shaky hands, I scrambled to dial the number Sadie gave me and locked the door behind me.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Voicemail.

‘Hi! You’ve reached Phantom Fantasy Experiences. We’re unable to answer right now, but your pleasure is our passion—’

I hung up with a strangled scream and shook my phone like I wanted to strangle it. “You kidnapped the wrong goddamn man!”

I sank to the cold bathroom floor, robe clinging haphazardly to my thighs, and groaned into my palms. I barely had time to hyperventilate when a deep, smug voice called from the bedroom.

“Hey, Angel?”

I froze, mortified. He was still tied up… right?

“Not to rush you, but do you have any snacks? That ride worked up an appetite.”

Then I heard a shuffle. A snap. Another shuffle.

Was he…?

I scrambled to the door and yanked it open, still clutching my phone and my robe like they were weapons. “What are you doing?!”

The man was halfway through untangling himself from the ropes like it was a casual Tuesday.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said without even glancing up. “I’ve had worse knots. Marine training. Plus, I always did have nimble fingers.” He shot me a wink. “Clearly, so do you.”

“Stop untying yourself!” I yelped.

He shrugged, pulling one wrist free. “Bit late for that. You got anything besides wine? I feel like we shared something mind blowing, might as well split a sandwich and soda.”

“This isn’t sharing,” I said, on the verge of throwing myself out the window. “This is a felony wrapped in a health violation wrapped in a tragic misunderstanding!”

He finally looked at me and grinned wide enough to show a dimple. “Oh, Angel, you just described my whole life.”

“You need to stay here. You can’t leave. I need to… figure out how much jail time I’m looking at.”

He stood with a fluid grace that made me irrationally mad. “Relax, Angel. I’m not pressing charges.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” he asked, casually sipping from the same wine glass I’d downed earlier. “Because I gotta say, you really nailed the surprise element.”

“I didn’t mean to nail you!” I exploded, cheeks blazing.

He arched his brow and licked his bottom lip like it was instinct. “Sure felt intentional.”

“I—no—oh my god, please shut up.”

“No promises.” He lightly fixed his disheveled shirt, still chuckling to himself, then paused at the door. “Oh, by the way, if Ezra’s still a no-show next week, I’ll be at the wedding. Wouldn’t miss it.”

I stared at him.

He winked again. “What can I say? I like commitment.”

“Get. Out!”

He laughed all the way down the hall.

About an hour of panic attack later, I tightened the belt of my robe, even though it had no business clinging to me anymore. My hair was brushed back, lips scrubbed raw, and every trace of what happened in that room was shoved into the hotel laundry bag slung over my arm—ropes, wine glass, lingerie, all of it.

The duffel bag over my shoulder felt heavier than it should have. Probably because it carried mistakes. And confusion. And the ridiculous hope that somehow this would all go away if I just walked out fast enough.

I opened the door.

And stopped cold.

Right across the hall, the door to the other honeymoon suite swung open at the exact same time. And there he was.

Ezra.

For a heartbeat, everything inside me dropped. My lungs, my stomach, the fragile scaffolding I’d built in the bathroom to keep myself from collapsing.

It was him. I would know that profile anywhere. The slope of his jaw, the way he always ran his hand through his hair when he was laughing. The exact shade of that self-satisfied smirk he wore whenever he thought he was cleverer than everyone else.

My brain couldn’t keep up. What the hell was he doing here?

This wasn’t right.

This didn’t make any sense.

First, Sadie’s guys kidnapped the wrong man. That alone had flipped the universe off its axis. I’d spent the night with a stranger, thinking it was Ezra. A stranger who was tied to the bed with a black hood covering his head and a gag in his mouth.

Now Ezra was here? Across the hall? In the other honeymoon suite?

Had I been pranked back? Did Ezra somehow know what I was planning? Had he found out I arranged to bind, blindfold, and ravish him like a revenge-fueled Greek tragedy?

No. That didn’t track. This was something else entirely.

He hadn’t come for me.

Because just before the door clicked shut again, I saw who was with him.

A girl. Younger. With the same hazel eyes as mine. The same dimples. The same family curse of falling for narcissists in perfect suits.

Meredith.

My baby sister.

She pulled him down by the collar, laughing like this was a weekend getaway and not the moment the Earth opened under my feet.

Then the door shut.

Right in my face.