CHAPTER 007: LEXI
I wake up with a pounding headache.
Slowly, I open my eyes and glance around. Nothing looks familiar. I’m in a bedroom—someone’s private space—but I have no idea how I ended up here.
A deep voice behind me rumbles, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
I turn and see a man lying against the pillows, shirtless. He looks familiar. Right—the guy from the club. I remember dancing with him, but everything after that is a blur. I sit up fast, my heart pounding as I realize I’m naked under the duvet.
“Hi,” I mumble, trying to sound normal. “What time is it?”
He glances at the Rolex on his wrist. “Seven o’clock.”
“Seven?!” I practically launch myself out of bed, not caring that the blanket slips to the floor.
My clothes are scattered everywhere. I rush to grab them, painfully aware of his eyes following my every move. He watches me, tracing my body with his gaze, and it makes me feel even more exposed—more than I already am.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I have to get to work by eight,” I say, struggling to yank my dress over my head. It’s wrinkled and smells faintly of sweat and alcohol.
He nods, still calm, still watching. “I’ll miss you. Wish you didn’t have to go.”
Halfway into my stilettos, I freeze. “Look, I’m sure we had fun. But I don’t really remember what happened last night, so I’m just going to go and save myself further embarrassment.”
“Fun?” He chuckles. “Last night was the best night of my life.”
“It was?”
He leans forward, smiling. “You don’t remember? We made out at the club, then drove around the city. You told me you don’t sleep with strangers, so I suggested something.”
I narrow my eyes, bracing myself. “What did you suggest?”
“That we get married. You agreed. We found a place, got married, came back here, and had incredible sex.”
My heart stops. Married?
“Wait, wait... we got married?” I stammer, staring at him in disbelief.
He nods. “Yep. Got you a ring and everything.”
My eyes drop to my hand. Sure enough, there it is—a shiny gold band on my finger. My stomach flips. I don’t remember a thing. How the hell did I get drunk enough to marry a stranger?
“I don’t believe this,” I mutter, pulling out my phone in a panic. “Look, how about we exchange numbers, and I’ll call you after work? We need to undo... whatever this is.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “We already did that. You saved my number as ‘hobby.’”
I groan. I need to leave—now.
“I’ll call you,” I say quickly, slipping on my second stiletto and making a beeline for the door.
“I can give you a ride,” he offers.
“No thanks!” I call over my shoulder, then hesitate. “By the way, you have a really nice place.”
“Thanks. It’s yours now too, princess.”
Holy shit. What have I gotten myself into?
