by Hamel, B. B.
“Where else would I keep it?” he grunted.
“Investments. Property. I don’t know, but I do know you shouldn’t just have that kind of cash sitting around.”
He laughed again. “I told you, I don’t give a shit about the money. But that’s enough proof that I can pay, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it is.”
He tossed his phone onto the bed and sat back down. “So, should we talk terms?”
“Okay,” I said, nodding.
“First, you can’t tell anyone the truth. Not your best friend, not your parents, not some stranger on the internet. Understood?”
“Okay,” I said, nodding.
“Next, you have to maintain the illusion as faithfully as possible. That means we sleep in the same room, maybe we kiss for the cameras, hold hands, all that shit.”
“No sex,” I said quickly.
He smirked. “No sex,” he agreed. “Contractually, at least.”
“This is all business, Nash.”
“Of course. All business.” He leaned back in his chair, appraising me. “Think you can handle this so far?”
I nodded, my heart beating fast. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Last condition. You get paid if and only if we make it through the entire book tour without getting caught. If someone figures out the truth, then you don’t get paid. If you tell someone on the last night, you don’t get paid. Understood?”
I nodded. “Sounds fair.”
“Okay then. That’s it for me.” He smiled. “Anything you want to add?”
“Just one thing. No sex,” I said. “I can handle the fake relationship stuff, the kissing and hand holding and all that, but when the doors are closed, we’re just business associates.”
“No sex,” he agreed. “I’m not interested in forcing you to fuck me if you don’t want to.”
“One last thing,” I said. “I need you to make me understand why you want this marriage thing, because right now I think you might be an insane person.”
He laughed, leaning back. “If you think I’m insane, why are you here?”
“Like I said, I’m here for the money.”
“Fair enough.” He paused for a second, thinking. “Simple, really. I told you some of it already. The publisher has me by the balls, and I’m not a fan of that.”
“So how does marrying me help?”
“Because I need to get my shit together and play by their rules. That’s going to be your job.”
I stared at him. “So I’m your babysitter?”
He laughed. “Not exactly. I have enough of those. No. Your job is exactly what I described, no more or less.”
I sighed. “You think that if you’re married, you’ll somehow stop acting like an ass.”
“Something like that, sure,” he said, laughing again.
I wanted to say something else, but there was a knock at the door. Nash stood up and opened it. The room service guy brought in a tray and placed it at the end of the bed, not sparing me a second glance. Nash tipped him and then closed the door behind him as he left.
“Hungry?” he asked. There was steak and whisky on the cart.
“No, thanks.”
“I suggest you eat,” he said. “Because when we’re done here, we’re getting on a plane.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“You and me, babe, we’re flying to Vegas.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised. “When?”
He picked up his glass of whisky and shot it back. “As soon as I’m finished with this steak.”
“But I don’t have any clothes or anything like that.”
He shrugged. “I’ll buy you new things.”
I frowned. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You’re about to be my wife,” he said. “I have to be able to buy you presents.”
“But why Vegas?”
He laughed, sitting down with the steak in front of him and digging in. “You didn’t think we were getting married at the Philadelphia courthouse, did you?”
“I didn’t think about it,” I admitted.
“No, we’re getting married in Vegas, baby.” He grinned hugely at me. “We’re doing this right, so get ready for a wild ride.”
I sat back, letting the shock roll over me. I hadn’t prepared myself to leave that night, but he had a point.
And I was committed to this. I could tell this wasn’t just some crazy prank or something like that. Nash may have been dangerous and seductive, but he wasn’t a psychopath. He was in a bad situation and wanted to find his own way out of it.
So we were going to Vegas. In about ten minutes.
Things were moving fast, and I had a feeling they were going to move faster still.
Chapter Eight: Nash
I stepped out of the hotel room door and checked the hallway. Selena followed me, moving quietly, as we went to the stairwell. I pushed open the door and we went down the steps, moving fast and quiet.
I had my single duffel bag, but Selena had nothing. We might get some strange looks at the airport, but that shit didn’t matter. I was famous enough that I could get away with running around with some pretty young girl.
My night sure had taken an interesting turn. There I was having just jerked my cock off thinking about Selena’s incredible body when she just showed up. I hadn’t expected it, but I was glad she did.
And now I was going to marry the girl. Not for real, of course. Selena was all business, and I liked that about her.
It fucking turned me on. The girl was a challenge, a little uptight, a little scared. I wasn’t going to pressure her into anything, but I had a feeling that by the time the tour was over, I’d have her body in the palm of my hand, her ready to let me get her off over and over again.
We went down the staircase, trying to stay quiet. I couldn’t risk running into Livy and having her somehow try to talk me out of it, or maybe threaten me with the publishers again. So we were going the back way, like I was back on a mission.
I glanced back at her and smiled. She looked nervous as hell, maybe even a little frightened, but I could tell she was excited too. I had her pegged as a do-gooder, but maybe she really was wilder than I had initially thought.
Which could be good or bad, depending. My fucking hard cock was definitely not a good thing if we were going to try to keep our relationship professional.
But I couldn’t get too hung up on that just yet. First, we had to sneak out and get on a damn plane.
I stopped once we reached the bottom of the staircase. “Stay here,” I said to her.
“Why?”
“I need to make sure there aren’t any paparazzi.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded, frowning. “Seriously. The rats follow me around.”
“Okay. Be fast.”
I grinned at her and then pushed through the door, moving fast and low toward the first car I saw.
I stayed there for a few minutes, taking in the parking garage. There was no movement that I could see, and the cars all looked empty. At least there was nobody rushing to try to take my picture just yet. I stood up to get a better view.
Still empty. I turned and pushed open the door. “Come on.”
She followed me back out into the parking garage and we followed the wall, sticking away from the center aisle, trying to stay in the shadows.
She did a good job keeping up with me. I was hustling, moving fast, trying to minimize our chances of getting caught. It felt like a mission again, and I loved the adrenaline racing through my veins. Although, if we got caught, our punishment would be photographs, whereas my old missions were all life or death.
Still, it felt good to be sneaking around again, putting my training to use. We moved down the wall and slowly wound our way upward toward ground level.
I paused and held my hand out, stopping Selena. I looked around the corner and saw the entrance to the garage just ahead, with the street beyond.
That was our chance. Once out in
the street, nobody was going to find us. We’d grab a cab or an Uber and get the hell out of there.
Except standing right next to the garage entrance were two paparazzi. They thought they were being slick by hiding their cameras, but it was obvious what they were. They stood there in too-plain clothing, smoking cigarettes, with huge cups of coffee next to them. Normal people didn’t drink tons of coffee late at night and hang around parking garages.
I turned to Selena. “The two guys up there are paparazzi, so we need to get around them.”
“How?” she asked.
I frowned and began to work on it. The garage had only one entrance, and we couldn’t just go up through the lobby. There were absolutely paparazzi lingering up there.
And then I had an idea.
“Nobody knows you yet, right?” I said to her.
“Sure.”
“Go upstairs into the lobby. Poke your head out the door, look back inside, and yell something about seeing me.”
“What?”
“Go act like you spotted me on the street. Then walk fast away from the building. Hopefully that’ll draw those guys away long enough for me to slip out.”
“Where should we meet?”
“There’s a bar right around the corner called Sabrina’s. Meet me there.”
She frowned. “I don’t know if I can do this. What if everyone ignores me?”
“Then head back here and we’ll think of something else.” I looked at her seriously. “You can do this.”
She nodded. “Okay. See you soon.”
I watched her leave, heading back toward the stairwell. I turned back to the paparazzi standing at the entrance and waited, keeping myself calm.
A few minutes slipped by. I began to wonder if she hadn’t just walked away from the whole thing, giving up as soon as things got a little hairy. Maybe it was a mistake to drag a normal girl into this. Maybe I really did need a crazy actress or someone like that.
And then I heard some shouting from the street. I watched with a delighted smile as the two paparazzi assholes began to walk away.
I took my chance. Silently, I moved from the spot and kept to the wall. The men disappeared from view, and so I walked fast, slipped out behind them. I glanced up the sidewalk and noticed them walking slowly up the hill toward the entrance.
I turned around the corner and was gone.
I laughed the whole way to the bar. Selena had done it; she really had.
Maybe this was going to work out better than I thought.
I found the bar and pushed the door open. Sitting on a stool was Selena, looking flushed but grinning like mad.
“What happened?” I asked her.
“I started yelling about a man stealing my purse.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Smart. That was a good call.”
“I can’t believe that happened. I just walked away as soon as people started coming over to me. I pointed down the street and then walked away.”
I grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Good job. You did good.”
She grinned back at me, and I felt a thrill run through my chest. The girl was impressive, absolutely amazing.
“Thanks,” she said. “I can’t believe it.”
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get a cab.”
I kept hold of her hand, pulling her along as we went back out into the street.
She was grinning like mad, still clearly running on an adrenaline high. I knew the feeling, and was maybe a little jealous of it. Eventually I dropped her hand as we got a cab, but the feeling of her skin against mine still lingered.
We sped along toward the airport.
Toward Las Vegas.
Toward our damn wedding.
I smirked to myself in the back of the cab, heart pumping, ready.
Chapter Nine: Selena
As far as last-minute flights went, ours was pretty uneventful.
The first flight to Vegas didn’t leave until five in the morning, and so we were stuck sitting around in the terminal all night. I tried to sleep while Nash sat around reading on his phone or whatever he was doing. He didn’t seem particularly talkative, which didn’t exactly surprise me. He wasn’t known as a super chatty guy.
He was a Navy SEAL, after all. He was supposedly a badass, trained to kill in a thousand different ways. Part me of understood that and was afraid of it, and part of me was excited beyond belief.
Eventually, though, we boarded the plane. Nash got us first-class tickets, so the flight out to Vegas was actually pretty comfortable. We both finally got some sleep, thanks in part to the free whisky Nash drank like water.
Eventually, though, the plane landed, and we were out walking into the dry Las Vegas air.
We took a cab to the main strip, and I couldn’t help but gape around us as we walked.
“This is amazing,” I said.
Nash laughed. “Yeah. Looks that way on the outside.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It’s Las Vegas. This whole damn city is rotten on the inside.”
I frowned at him. “Why are you so pessimistic all the time?”
He shrugged. “Realistic, babe.”
I sighed. “Listen, I need to buy some clothes. I feel disgusting.”
“Here,” he said. He pulled a card from his wallet. “Go get whatever you want. I’ll check us into the Bellagio.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The Bellagio? Isn’t that really fancy?”
“Fuck yes it is,” he said, laughing. “It’s our damn wedding; we might as well go all out.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling despite myself.
“I’m checking in under the name Glen Patton. Ask for that at the front desk. I’ll instruct them to give you a key when you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
He grinned at me. “Welcome to Vegas, wife.”
Without another word, he turned and walked off.
I watched him go for a minute, completely overwhelmed, before walking again. I was looking for somewhere to buy some decent clothes that wouldn’t cost thousands, but I couldn’t exactly find a Gap.
Eventually I wound up in a little boutique, picking out clothes. I got some underwear, a couple shirts, a couple skirts, pants, and finally ended up in the dress section.
I looked around, biting my lip. I felt strange knowing that in a few hours I was going to marry a perfect stranger. And yet my stomach was doing flips from the nerves, and I knew I was excited. The rational part of me was aware that it wasn’t really my wedding day, but I couldn’t help myself.
I’d always thought about what it would be like to get married. I figured it would be to some handsome, kind person who I’d fallen in love with, not some brash, rich asshole who only wanted to use me.
But I was using him too, after all. It was a business deal, plain and simple.
Still, I wanted to look good. I looked through the dresses idly until stopping on the perfect one.
It was revealing, low cut but not too inappropriate. It was more of a cocktail dress than a wedding thing, but it was white. I grabbed it and tried it on.
And it fit. Actually, I looked pretty damn good. I laughed, looking at myself in the dress in the mirror. It hugged my hips and flattered my body in a way I didn’t think was even possible, but there I was.
Wearing my wedding dress.
I got changed back into my regular clothes and went to pay for everything. I was shocked when the cashier told me how much it all would be, but I didn’t worry too much about it.
It was on my new husband, after all.
Smiling to myself, I left the shop and headed toward the Bellagio. I saw the sign in the distance and suddenly felt nervous all over again.
I was going to meet my husband in our hotel room. Then we were going to get married.
That still seemed like madness, even if I knew it was true.
I made my way to the hotel and gave Nash’s fake name at reception. They gave me a key and I made my way up to the top floor.
/> The Bellagio was all classy decorations and wealth. It was beautiful and chic, the sort of place I could never stay at on my own. The ceilings were huge and people were milling about everywhere. The marble floors were shined to perfection, and I felt completely out of place in the clothes I’d worn for the last day straight.
Finally, the elevator made it to the top floor. I checked my key, frowning, and walked forward.
There were only two doors. I tried the key on the second door, and it popped open immediately.
I walked inside. “Nash?”
The room looked like the living room of an incredibly rich family. A couch, some chairs, a table, plus its own little kitchen; it was incredible.
“In here,” I heard him say.
I walked toward the back and entered the bedroom. The whole place was huge, and the bedroom was no different. The bed was large and luxurious, and Nash was sitting in it with his shirt off, watching football on television.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
I held up my bags. “You’re a lot poorer now.”
He smirked. “Good.”
I stared at him for a second, my eyes roaming his body. “Don’t you ever wear a shirt?”
“Nah,” he said. “Not anymore I don’t.”
I frowned. “Whatever. I need to get changed, so you need to get out of here.”
He cocked his head. “Why should I leave? You’re going to be my wife.”
“Business associates, remember?” I asked. “Get out.”
He shrugged. “Fine. Just make it quick. I just made us a reservation for a little wedding chapel.”
“Okay.”
He got up out of bed and walked past me, not bothering with a shirt. I watched him leave, marveling at the muscles rippling in his back, before shutting the door behind him.
I sat down on the bed, breathing fast and hard, trying to get myself under control. I felt like I was spinning all of a sudden. Being alone with him in an expensive, luxurious hotel room was really making it all sink in.
I had to sit there and remind myself over and over why I was getting involved with him, why I was going to marry him and lie to the world.
My father might be dying, and they needed the money more than anyone else.