Chapter One

SLOANE

The second I stepped off the plane, the humidity hit me like a slap in the face.

It wasn't like New York at all. Back home, everything was crisp, polite, and freezing.

There, the air was thick, salty, and heavy enough to make my hair immediately start frizzing.

Welcome to Miami, I guess.

"Sloane, oh my god, look at those palm trees," Tessa squealed, practically knocking me over with her designer carry-on. "We're finally here. The bachelorette trip of the century is officially in motion."

Lila laughed, adjusting her massive sunglasses. "Correction. The bachelorette trip of the century before you married the most eligible bachelor in the entire country. Seriously, Sloane, Adrian is practically royalty. I still can't believe you locked that down."

"Right, locked down," I muttered under my breath, fixing my own sunglasses so none of them could see my eyes.

That was exactly how it felt. Like a lockdown. A beautiful, gold-plated prison sentence. In exactly forty-eight hours, I was supposed to walk down a long aisle in a dress that cost more than a sports car and swear my entire life away to Adrian Vaughn.

He was perfect. My parents loved him. The media loved him. He was the ultimate golden-boy billionaire heir, and on paper, I was the luckiest girl alive. But paper doesn't feel things. I did.

And right then, my chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. Did I love him? I don't think I even knew what that meant anymore. All I knew was the thought of the ring on my finger made me want to throw up.

"Earth to Sloane," Maren said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You're doing that thing where you look completely conscious but your brain is on another planet. Stop overthinking. This weekend is about bottomless mimosas and bad decisions."

"Exactly," Cassidy chimed in, pulling her rolling suitcase alongside mine. "If you don't wake up tomorrow morning married to a complete stranger or with a tattoo you can't explain, have we even really gone to Miami?"

"Please don't say the word married," I groaned, rubbing my temples. I was already getting a headache.

Tessa threw her arm around my shoulder, dragging me toward the airport exit. "No wedding talk. No Adrian talk. For the next two days, you're just our Sloane. Now let us get to the hotel, because we have a very important date with a bottle of tequila."

An hour later, we were in our hotel suite, and the girls had officially turned it into a war zone. Clothes were everywhere, three different pop songs were playing at the same time, and the smell of hairspray was so thick I could taste it. I was sitting on the edge of the bed in my normal silk robe, watching them lose their minds.

"Sloane, stand up right now," Tessa commanded, holding up a hanger like it was a weapon.

I blinked at the dress hanging from it. It was red. Not just red, but a scandalous, painted-on, bright red dress that looked like it had been made out of dental floss and prayers.

"Absolutely not," I said, shaking my head and crossing my arms. "Tessa, I can't wear that. It doesn't even look like a whole dress. Where is the rest of it?"

"it's a Miami dress, Sloane," Tessa said, rolling her eyes. "You aren't in New York anymore. You can't wear your conservative high-society midi dresses here. You're a bride. You need to look hot."

"it's too much," I protested, but Lila and Cassidy were already dragging me out of the bed and toward the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I was staring at myself in the mirror, and I didn't even recognize the girl looking back at me. The dress clung to every single curve, cutting dangerously low in the front and showing way more leg than I had ever shown in my entire life. My hair was down in wild waves, and my lips were painted a matching shade of red. I looked reckless. I looked dangerous. I looked like someone who was definitely not about to marry a billionaire in two days.

"Oh my god," Maren gasped from the doorway. "Adrian would literally faint if he saw you right now."

"Good thing he isn't here," I whispered, looking at my reflection.

A tiny, wicked spark lit up in my chest. For the first time in months, I didn't feel like the perfect, dutiful daughter. I felt alive.

The nightclub they dragged me to was pure chaos. The bass was so loud it literally vibrated through the soles of my heels, thumping right in time with my racing heart. Neon lights flashed in pinks and blues, blinding me every two seconds, and the crowd was just a sea of sweaty, moving bodies. It was loud, sweaty, and completely perfect. It was exactly the distraction I needed.

"To the bar," Tessa screamed over the music, grabbing my wrist and pulling me through the crowd.

We shoved our way to the front, and before I could even say anything, five shots of dark tequila were lined up on the sticky counter. The liquid looked menacing under the neon lights.

"To Sloane," Tessa yelled, raising her glass. "The last night she's technically, legally, totally single. Let us get ruined."

The girls cheered, slamming their glasses together. I hesitated for a split second, staring at the amber liquid. If my mother had seen me right then, she would've had a literal heart attack. Adrian would've probably just smiled that polite, disappointed smile of his.

Screw it, I thought.

I grabbed the glass and slammed it back. The tequila burned a fierce path down my throat, making my eyes water instantly. It tasted awful, but almost immediately, a warm, fuzzy wave of heat spread through my stomach. The strict boundaries I had spent my whole life building started to blur at the edges.

"Another one," I shouted, laughing as the girls stared at me in shock. "Give me another."

Three shots later, the room was spinning in the best way possible. The suffocating weight in my chest was completely gone, replaced by a dizzy, floating feeling. I was dancing with my friends, laughing so hard my stomach hurt, and completely forgetting about wedding dresses, seating charts, and vows. I was just a girl in a red dress, having fun in Miami.

Eventually, the girls dragged me away from the dance floor and toward a booth in the corner of the VIP section. We flopped onto the leather seats, breathless and laughing.

"Okay, okay, game time," Cassidy said, leaning over the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "The alcohol has officially kicked in, which means it's time for the real traditions to start."

"What traditions?" I asked, leaning my head back against the seat, feeling incredibly dizzy.

"Truth or dare," Tessa said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Bachelorette edition. And since you're the bride, Sloane, you get to go first."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Tessa, we're twenty-two, not twelve. Truth or dare? Really?"

"Just pick one, Sloane," Lila pushed, nudging my shoulder. "Don't be a buzzkill. You have been a good girl all night. Time to play."

"Fine," I giggled, the tequila making me feel braver than I actually was. "Dare. Give me your best shot."

The four of them exchanged a look that instantly made me sober up just a little bit. It was the look they got when they were about to do something completely terrible. Tessa leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her eyes locking onto mine with determination.

"I dare you," Tessa said, pointing a finger out toward the crowded club, "to go find the single hottest guy inside this place right now, walk right up to him, and make out with him. There's no backing out."

My jaw dropped. The dizziness evaporated, replaced by a sudden rush of pure adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" I yelled, looking at her like she had grown a second head. "Tessa, I am getting married in two days. I can't just go around making out with random strangers in Miami clubs."

"You said dare," Cassidy reminded me, grinning wildly. "And you're technically single until you sign that marriage license. Come on, Sloane. One last kiss with a beautiful stranger. A little harmless rebellion before you become Mrs. Vaughn forever."

"No, I can't," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Yes, you can," Tessa insisted, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to stand up. "Look around, Sloane. Just look. One kiss. Nobody is ever going to know. It stays in Miami."

I looked out at the crowd, my breath caught in my throat as my eyes started scanning the faces under the flashing neon lights.

My hands were shaking, and the red dress suddenly felt entirely too tight against my skin.