"Oh no..."
My stomach dropped to my feet and everything came crashing back in on me, while the hangover continued to hammer my head and my gut.
"Oh my God..." This couldn’t be happening. I didn't really marry Kade Kingston.
But the ache between my thighs and the way my eyes burned like I'd been crying were evidence to the contrary.
"Oh my God," I gasped again, horrified as I looked around the room. This wasn't a normal hotel room. This wasn't the Bellagio either. Branding on the pillows and the stationary labeled everything as belonging to the Atlas Hotel and Casino, and what I’d had was not a dream.
It was real, every single bit of it.
"Oh holy—" I clamped my eyes shut to stop my world from spinning as I tried to process what was happening.
I remembered walking into the casino to get a drink, because it made more sense to hang out in Vegas until my family dealt with the angry wedding guests. I’d planned to call Mandy when I felt like things had settled enough that she could pick me up, but that never happened.
"Oh my god," I whined again, letting every ounce of fear come out in that one audible groan. "I am so stupid. How could I be so stupid?”
There was no way this was real, was there?
Kade wasn't in the room, but my lips were raw like I'd been kissing someone—a lot. And the way my lady bits burned slightly and felt extra moist pointed to a night of fun. But my God, I wasn't on the pill or anything, and I didn’t remember what I'd done or how I got to this room, for Christ's sake.
I had to get out of here.
There was no way I was sticking around to find out what really happened. If he wasn’t here, maybe he took off to leave me or maybe he just went to get coffee. But if he was coming back, I didn't want to be here when he got back.
I dove for my dress and snatched it off the ground, finding my purse tucked there under it with my shoes, but no sign of my panties anywhere. I tossed out the sheets but no luck, so I tugged the soiled dress on and zipped myself into it as best I could. It looked like I’d spilled at least one drink on the white satin, maybe more than one, and my shoes were scuffed and black in places.
What the heck had I done?
With my head spinning and my heart racing, I did a once-over to make sure I didn’t forget anything important and then I slipped out the door and down to the elevators, praying I didn't bump into Kade on the way. This was a nightmare of epic proportions.
I just had to be the adventurous one, didn't I? And I couldn’t even be smart enough to do something silly like steal a pack of gum or key Brandon's Range Rover. I had to go and throw myself at the first available man. Look where that got me.
The doors dinged and slid open. I stepped on, grateful the carriage was empty with no sign of my apparent husband floating around. I thought it was a bad dream. I thought Brandon cheating on me was the worst thing that could happen, and here I was with a billionaire playboy's ring on my finger and his name tattooed on my side.
I hoped to God that was removable. My God, did I regret everything about the past twelve hours.
As the elevator carried me toward the ground floor, I dug into my purse to find my car keys. The crappy old Toyota was my ticket out of here and back home, where I would have to face the music. But any amount of nagging from my parents andbest friend would be better than sticking around to deal with an angry celebrity hotel heir. What was I going to tell them?
When I fished deeper into the purse, several papers fell out onto the ground at my feet. I recognized the letterhead immediately. Except it was different.
The paper on top had the Washoe County Clerk's Office letterhead and logo on it, stamped and dated for yesterday. I stooped to pick it up cautiously, because I knew what it was… but I knew it wasn't mine. Or was it?
The Clark County Clerk's Office had issued my marriage license to Brandon months ago when we started receiving RSVPs to the ceremony. And even if it was mine, this would say Clark County, not Washoe County.
Dread filled my stomach as the carriage bounced to a stop on the ground floor and the doors slid open. If this was what I thought it was, I was screwed. Majorly and unequivocally screwed.
I stumbled toward the elevator door as I unfolded the paper to see a very real, very damning marriage license with my name and signature next to Kade Kingston's, with last night's date, here at the Atlas Chapel.
My shoulder bumped into the wall and I looked up to see Kade vanishing into a different elevator. I shrank back fast and let the doors close for a moment, but the carriage didn't move yet.
I'd really done it.
I had really married Kade Kingston in a Vegas chapel after learning my fiancé slept with the stripper at the bachelor party that I didn’t even want him to have. Now I was standing in an elevator hiding from the man to whom I was genuinely married—if this certificate was real—and my entire life was poised to implode.
Nothing on Earth could explain this away, and there would be no way for me to hide from it for long.
As the doors slid back open and two older folks who smelled like pancakes and syrup stepped into the car with me, I bolted. My purse dangled at my side, keys and marriage license in hand, and I ran as fast as I could down the hallway, reaching for the train that no longer existed. It was discarded somewhere last night in the chaos, and I didn't even know where to look.
