Chapter 2 – Flashbacks to the Wild Night

LENA

The moment Roman’s voice wrapped around me, deep and scratchy from sleep, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

But instead of answering him, my brain did that cruel thing it loved to do—it threw me back into the chaos of last night, forcing me to relive every blurred second I’d been trying so hard to ignore.

It started with tequila. Always tequila.

“Come on, Lena!” my best friend Macy had cheered, thrusting a shot glass into my hand. “It’s Vegas, babe. You can’t sulk about your ex forever. Time to live a little!”

I had rolled my eyes, muttering something about bad decisions and hangovers, but the truth was, my heart still ached. Seeing Tyler with another girl only a month after breaking things off had shredded my pride. I wanted to feel anything but that hollow ache inside my chest.

So I tipped the glass back. The burn of tequila seared down my throat, chasing away common sense. One shot became three. Three became… I lost count. The club lights blurred into streaks of neon, and the bass pounded through my body until I was more liquid than solid.

That’s when I saw him.

He was at the bar, tall and still, like the chaos around him didn’t touch him. While everyone else laughed too loud and stumbled into each other, he stood with quiet control, a drink in his hand, his eyes scanning the room.

And then those eyes landed on me.

It felt like the air shifted. Like the lights dimmed, the music softened, and the only thing that existed was the way he looked at me.

Dark. Unreadable. Hungry.

Macy noticed him too. She nudged me with her elbow, grinning. “Oh my God. He’s hot. Go talk to him.”

“No way,” I laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of my dress. “Guys like that don’t talk to girls like me.”

“Guys like that love girls like you,” she insisted, shoving me a little too hard in his direction.

I stumbled toward the bar, heart hammering. Before I could bolt back to safety, he turned fully, setting his glass down.

And smiled.

Not a wide smile, not even a charming one. It was slow, deliberate, like he already knew how the night would end.

“Careful,” he said as I caught my balance, his voice deep enough to vibrate in my bones. “Vegas floors can be dangerous.”

“I think that shove was more dangerous than the floor,” I joked weakly, glaring over my shoulder at Macy.

He chuckled, and the sound was low, smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. “You don’t belong here.”

“Excuse me?”

His gaze dragged over me, lingering in a way that made my knees weak but also lit a fire in my chest. “You look… out of place. Like you don’t usually spend your nights in loud clubs with cheap drinks.”

“First of all,” I said, leaning against the bar for balance, “the drinks are not cheap. They’re overpriced. And second—maybe I like loud clubs.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Do you?”

The truth was no. I hated clubs. But his eyes pinned me in place, and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Maybe tonight I do.”

That was when he stepped closer. Close enough for me to smell the faint spice of his cologne, the warmth radiating off his body.

“Then let me buy you something that isn’t neon green,” he murmured, signaling to the bartender.

One drink turned into two. Two turned into a blur of laughter, stolen glances, and the dizzying rush of something dangerous sparking between us. I couldn’t remember most of the words we exchanged, only how it felt—the way his hand brushed mine, how his voice dipped when he leaned close, the way everyone else in the room melted away until it was just him and me.

At some point, we left the club. I barely remembered Macy shouting something about “don’t do anything stupid,” but her voice was swallowed by the night as he guided me outside.

Vegas streets glittered under the neon lights, and the air buzzed with electricity. He held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I followed without hesitation.

“Where are we going?” I giggled, stumbling in my heels.

“You’ll see.”

I should have asked more questions. I should have pulled back. But the way he looked at me made me feel like I wasn’t broken, like I wasn’t the girl left behind by someone else. I felt wanted. I felt alive.

The next flash in my memory was a little chapel. One of those tacky Vegas wedding places with a glowing Elvis sign out front.

My jaw had dropped. “No way. We are not—”

“Why not?” he interrupted smoothly, his lips quirking. “You said you wanted to do something reckless.”

“I meant another shot, not… this!”

But his eyes had locked on mine, dark and unwavering. “You’re scared.”

That stung. “I am not scared.”

“Then prove it.”

The tequila coursing through my veins, the heartbreak still raw in my chest, and the way he made me feel like I was the only woman in the universe—all of it twisted together until the word okay slipped past my lips.

The rest was a blur of vows I barely remember, laughter echoing against chapel walls, and the weight of a ring sliding onto my finger. His hand trembled slightly when he slid it on, though his eyes never left mine.

And when the officiant declared us husband and wife, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled me in and kissed me like he’d been waiting forever for that moment.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate, hungry, consuming.

And I let it consume me.

We stumbled out of the chapel, giddy and breathless, me clutching the hem of my dress while he held me close. There were flashes of a limousine, champagne spilling down my wrist as he laughed, my head thrown back against the leather seat as his lips trailed along my throat.

Then the hotel. The suite. His hands pulling me into him, his voice low and rough against my skin.

Everything after that dissolved into fire and darkness and the sound of his name on my lips.

Roman.

The memory hit me like a punch to the chest, leaving me breathless in the present moment. I blinked, the hotel room around me snapping back into focus. The sheets still smelled like him. The ring still glinted on my finger.

And he was still watching me.

“Remember now?” he asked, his voice a velvet tease.

I swallowed hard, heat rising in my cheeks. He knew. He had to know I was replaying every reckless second in my head.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

Because the truth was… I remembered everything.

And the worst part?

I wanted more.