BECOMING MR. CROSS

ALEX

I woke up with a hangover from hell and a ring on my finger.

My head pounded like a goddamn drumline, my mouth tasted like stale whiskey and regret, and my tongue felt like sandpaper scraping against my teeth. The sheets beneath me were soft ,  too soft   like a thousand thread count, luxury hotel soft. Definitely not the scratchy, budget motel kind I remembered checking into last night.

I cracked an eye open, the morning light slicing through the floor to  ceiling windows like a blade. And that’s when the panic set in.

This wasn’t my room.

This wasn’t even my hotel.

I bolted upright, instantly regretting the move as nausea punched me square in the gut. My pulse raced as I took in the unfamiliar space …..sleek, modern furniture, abstract art on the walls, a view of the Vegas strip that screamed money. And there, on the marble nightstand beside the bed, a shiny Diamond ring caught the light, glinting accusingly at me.

On my hand.

“What the actual fuck….”

A low, gravelly voice cut through the haze in my head. “Morning, husband.”

I nearly fell off the bed.

There, leaning against the doorway of the massive en suite bathroom, stood a man. And not just any man. No this was a goddamn work of art.

Tall, broad shouldered, dressed in nothing but a pair of low slung black sweatpants that hung sinfully on narrow hips. Black hair slightly messy like he’d just rolled out of bed, sharp grey eyes that pinned me in place, and a smirk that promised nothing good.

He looked like sex and sin and danger wrapped up in a billionaire’s body.

And then it hit me.

The name. The face. The scandalous headlines Riley always drooled over in those trashy gossip mags.

Damon Cross.

The Damon Cross. CEO of Cross Enterprises. Infamous playboy. Richer than God. And apparently my… husband?

“Nope.” I scrambled out of bed, heart thundering in my chest. “This…..this is a mistake. A very bad, tequila soaked, blackout mistake.”

His smirk widened, and for a second I could see the devil underneath that polished exterior. “Well, sweetheart, you should’ve thought about that before you let me put a ring on it.”

I glanced at my left hand like it might spontaneously combust.

There it was.

A Diamond wedding ring .

Mocking me.

“I….this isn’t real. I don’t even remember getting married!”

Damon pushed off the doorframe, stalking toward me with lazy, predatory grace. “Vegas says otherwise.” He gestured toward the dresser, where a crisp white envelope sat. I snatched it up with trembling fingers, pulling out a marriage certificate, my name scrawled in drunken chicken scratch beside his flawless signature.

Alex Carter. Damon Cross.

Legally fucking married.

“Oh my god.” I sank onto the edge of the bed, head in my hands. “Riley’s gonna kill me.”

“Relax, it’s not the end of the world.”

I shot him a look. “Easy for you to say. You probably do this shit all the time.”

His jaw ticked, the playful smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he schooled his expression. “Actually, no. I don’t.”

An awkward beat stretched between us. The tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

I should’ve been freaking out harder. I should’ve been running for the door, annulment papers in hand. But instead, I found myself staring at him. At those sharp cheekbones and that annoyingly perfect mouth. At the way his eyes softened just a little when they met mine.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I shook my head. “Okay, fine. We’ll fix this. Get it annulled. Erase it like it never happened.”

Damon’s gaze didn’t waver. “About that…”

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

He crossed the room, stopping right in front of me, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. “I have a proposition for you.”

“No offense, but I’ve had enough propositions from you to last a lifetime.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Hear me out. I need to stay married for a little while. Six months, tops. It’s complicated. Business.”

I blinked. “Are you seriously trying to turn your drunken mistake into a business arrangement?”

Damon shrugged. “Call it… mutually beneficial.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re insane.”

His next words knocked the breath out of me.

“I’ll pay you five million dollars.”

The room went silent.

Five.

Million.

Dollars.

I stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You’re fucking with me.”

He pulled a leather-bound folder off the desk, flipping it open to reveal a contract. “I’m dead serious. Six months. Public appearances, a few interviews, pretend to be the doting husband. At the end of it, we get a clean divorce, and you walk away richer than you’ve ever dreamed.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Five million dollars.

A ticket out of my shitty life, my dead-end job, my homophobic family. A chance to start over. To be free.

It was insane.

It was reckless.

It was tempting as hell.

And looking into Damon’s stormy grey eyes, I already knew the answer.

“Fine.” I swallowed hard. “But I swear to god, if you’re lying to me…..”

His smirk was back, dark and victorious. “Welcome to the family, husband.”