Chapter Three

SLOANE

My head felt like a bomb had gone off inside it.

I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow as a bone-deep, skull-cracking headache pulsed right behind my eyes.

My throat felt like sandpaper. I could barely even swallow. I blinked my eyes open, but the sunlight pouring through the massive windows was so bright, it felt like I was dying.

Where was I?

This was definitely not my hotel room. My hotel room didn't have a ceiling this high, or sheets this soft, or...

I froze. The air smelled like expensive masculine cologne. Cedarwood and tobacco.

Slowly, with terror mounting in my chest, I rolled over.

There was a man sleeping right next to me.

Not just any man. It was the dark-haired stranger from the club. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned toward me, sleeping peacefully. The white duvet was pulled down to his waist, exposing a bare, sculpted chest that looked entirely too perfect to be real.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at my hands, shaking violently, and that was when I saw it. The cheap silver band was sitting tightly on my finger, glinting mockingly in the morning sun.

Everything from last night hit me in a brutal, suffocating wave. The club. The shots. The chapel. The officiant.

I sat bolt upright and let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Ah! What the hell!"

The stranger shot up instantly, his eyes flying open as he scrambled against the pillows. He looked around wildly before his gaze landed on me. Within three seconds, his panicked expression melted away, replaced by that same lazy, wicked smirk from last night.

"Good morning to you too, wife," he drawled, his voice deep and incredibly raspy from sleep. "Do you always wake up this loud?"

"Wife?" I choked out, the word tasted like actual poison. "Oh my god. Oh my god, no. No, no, no."

I flung the covers off and scrambled out of the bed, my feet hit the cold hardwood floor. I was full-on hyperventilating then, descending into a full-blown hysteria. I started frantically pacing the room, my hands gripping my hair.

"This is a joke. This is a dream. I am having a nightmare," I chanted, my voice cracking. "I am asleep in my own room. I am going to wake up and Adrian is going to call me and everything will be normal."

The man leaned up on one elbow, completely unfazed by my mental breakdown. "Who the hell is Adrian?"

"Nobody!" I yelled, spinning around to face him. "Listen to me, mister... whatever your name is. Last night was a joke. It was a blackout dare! My friends dragged me into it, and I was drunk, and the tequila made me crazy! it wasn't real!"

He raised an eyebrow, pointing a lazy finger toward the bedside table. "Tell that to the paperwork, sweetheart."

I followed his gaze. Right there, sitting crumpled under an overturned champagne glass, was a piece of paper with official-looking gold lettering at the top.

State of Florida. Certificate of Marriage. Aleck Vaughn and Sloane Richardson.

Fuck. He even had to go and have the same surname as….

My stomach dropped into my shoes. I ran over, grabbed my hand, and started frantically trying to claw the tight silver ring off my finger. I used my teeth, I scratched at my skin, but my fingers were slightly swollen from the alcohol and the heat. The metal refused to budge.

"Get off," I sobbed, tears of pure panic finally burning my eyes. "Get off me!"

"Hey, calm down. You're going to hurt yourself," he said, sliding out of bed.

He was wearing grey sweatpants, and he walked over to me with easy, fluid grace. He reached out to touch my arm, but I jumped back like he just tried to burn me.

"Don't touch me!" I wept, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "This is a disaster. You don't understand. I am getting married in New York in two days! To a billionaire! My entire family is counting on it! I am going to file for an immediate annulment the second I get home. I will pay you. Whatever you want. Just sign the papers and make this go away."

The smirk completely vanished from his face. His dark eyes went incredibly intense, flashing with something dangerous. He stepped closer, completely invading my space until I was forced to stop moving.

"An annulment?" he asked, his voice dropped into a low, slow drawl. "Do you think you can just use me for a little Miami rebellion and then erase me when you go back to your perfect little life?"

"Yes!" I screamed. "Because it was a mistake!"

"I don't think it was a mistake," he said, leaning down so his sharp jawline was right next to my face. "And I have absolutely no intention of signing anything to make you disappear, Mrs. Trouble."

"You're insane! You don't even know me!" I gasped, pushing against his solid chest.

"I know you kiss like your life depends on it," he murmured. "And I know you're mine right now."

Before I could even process the sheer madness of his words, a loud, aggressive buzzing sound cut through the tension. My phone was vibrating violently on the floor next to a pile of my discarded clothes.

I snatched it up. Tessa's name was flashing on the screen.

I hit answer, my hand shaking. "Tessa—"

"Sloane! Oh my god, where the hell are you?! Our flight back to New York boards in exactly twenty minutes. We're literally at the gate stalling the flight attendants with your luggage! If you miss this plane, your mom is going to murder all of us!"

My heart stopped. "Twenty minutes?"

"Yes! Get your ass to the airport right then!" she yelled before slamming the phone down.

The panic completely took over, erasing everything else. I dropped the phone, dove for the floor, and grabbed the scandalous red dress from last night. I yanked it over my head, not caring about how ridiculous I looked wearing a club dress at nine o'clock in the morning. I grabbed my heels in one hand and my phone in the other.

"Where are you going?" the man asked, watching me with narrowed eyes as I sprinted toward the hotel room door.

"Away from you," I panted, grabbing the handle.

"Wait," he called out, stepping toward me. "You don't even know my name. Aren't you going to ask?"

He didn't think I saw it on the document just now? God, I hated this.

"I don't care about your name!" I yelled, tears spilling over my cheeks. "This never happened. You don't exist!"

I twisted the handle, threw the door open, and fled into the hallway, running as fast as my bare feet could carry me. I didn't look back. I didn't stop.

This wasn't done? He was fucking kidding me.