The Marriage Mistake_A Billionaire Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

Really, there’s not much else I can do.

  I’m now standing on the streets of Bangkok, minus Sammi and a bike.

  Though I guess you can’t count out the raging hard on. I’ve still got that.

  My mind has fully processed the fact that Sammi ran off.

  My cock on the other hand, he’s still holding out hope.

  I can’t help myself. I start to laugh.

  Fucking Sammi.

  Sammi has now turned me into a guy who stands on the sidewalk, laughing at thin air while his cock threatens to rip through his jeans.

  I’ll probably be arrested any moment now.

  The idea just makes me laugh harder.

  By the time I’ve gotten myself back under control, I’ve received more than a few curious stares.

  On the plus side, though, I can once again think straight.

  To be honest, once I’ve thought it through, I’m not even a little bit mad.

  Sammi just made out with me to steal my motorcycle.

  Which is many things, not the least of which is fucked up. Also, though, it’s impulsive, it’s irresponsible, it’s definitely fucking crazy…

  In short, it’s everything that Sammi is not.

  Not sober Sammi, anyway. Not before today.

  The thought makes hope fucking soar in my chest.

  Normal Sammi is nothing if not the picture of practicality. She’s calm, she’s rational, she’s…well, she’s fucking infuriating is what she is.

  Which means that the girl who just stole my bike for damn sure isn’t normal Sammi.

  This girl is someone else entirely.

  Bold, wild, rash.

  This is the girl I love.

  The g1irl who smiles while getting jabbed with a tattoo rod and licks the come off my fingers.

  This is the real Sammi.

  And without a drop of tequila on her breath to boot.

  For the first time in a while, I’m feeling genuinely hopeful.

  I start to walk, ignoring the stares of curious locals as I go.

  I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but I may have gotten through to her after all.

  Something’s different, that’s for damn sure.

  My feet move over the uneven pavement, kicking up dust motes as I go.

  The smells of Bangkok mingle in the air, overwhelming yet somehow inviting.

  A smile creeps across my face, and before I know it, I’m whistling.

  Fucking Sammi.

  Chapter 25

  Sammi

  2:35 PM SATURDAY

  The bike growls and hums beneath me, sending vibrations through my arms.

  I’m not traditionally the motorcycle type. Anyone with a brain and a search engine can tell you they’re very unsafe. Statistically speaking, definitely not worth the risk of climbing on one.

  Strangely, though, being on one now feels totally right.

  Maybe it’s just because of what’s behind me.

  I absolutely refuse to give in to the tears threatening my eyes. No way in hell am I going to cry right now.

  The past day has been a living hell, but through it all, I’ve maintained my composure.

  I’m damn sure not about to cry now. Not because of Lachlan fucking Williams.

  I pull harder on the throttle, hearing the engine roar in response. My thighs cling tightly to the steel.

  The buildings all fly by in a blur, tires squealing in protest.

  I twist even harder, feeling the tread catch on the cracked street.

  I’m trying to forget—and failing miserably. Which is funny, given that Lock seems to think I’ve got a real knack for it.

  This entire trip has become a disaster. One big fucking shit show.

  Every time I learn something new, it only gets worse.

  I’m still reeling in the wake of my own memories.

  Not to mention the things that Lock just said.

  Even the roar of the motorcycle can’t seem to drown them out. They play on a loop in my mind. Word for word.

  While I’d definitely never admit it to him, I’m fucking hurt.

  Sure, I’m also angry. Definitely confused.

  Mostly though, I’m just hurt.

  I try to focus on my anger, my outrage at his nerve. I hate that he acts the way he does, like he knows me.

  Most of all, though, I hate the fact that he does.

  That he’s right.

  I have been holding myself back.

  This isn’t some great big secret like he assumes it is, though. I behave the way I do, because I have no choice but to. It’s not something that he can ever truly understand.

  Being a woman in my field is rough. There’s always some man there, just waiting for me to slip. Waiting for me to act the part of the irrational woman so that he can point and shout, “Told you!”

  It may be the twenty-first century, but try telling that to scientists.

  It’s a fucking boys club. Always has been.

  Stepping foot into a lab is like traveling to the land where feminism never happened. If you’re a woman and you want to succeed there, you play your role.

  I can’t let go. Ever.

  If I do, I’ll never get another research project. Then it will all be for nothing.

  It’s a constant struggle to maintain control.

  And, okay, maybe I have taken it a bit far from time to time, but it got me where I am today.

  It got me to that ceremony, award in hand.

  Though that’s a hard thing to cling to, considering said award seems to have disappeared. One of many things lost in my drunken haze.

  It got me Eggs.

  But I’ve very likely lost that as well.

  My hand aches, and I realize just how hard I’m squeezing the throttle.

  I relax my grip with a force of will, breathing deeply as I do.

  Maybe tearing around Bangkok while I figure this out isn’t the best of plans.

  I pull off the road, killing the bike.

  The silence is deafening, but I need it to think.

  Hesitantly, I reach into my pocket, pulling out my phone.

  I already know what’s waiting for me there, but I feel the need to check anyway.

  Eggs.

  There are literally dozens of missed calls from him.

  It occurs to me for the first time that he may now be genuinely worried. I know I would be.

  Even still, I’m not sure that I have the courage to put his mind at ease.

  I check the clock. 1:20 p.m.

  I’m supposed to meet up with Eggs in ten minutes for a late pre-wedding lunch.

  The idea feels almost silly now, considering there may not even be a wedding.

  Not after what I did.

  A million images flash through my mind at the thought.

  Memories of Lock.

  After three years of trying to pretend he doesn’t exist, he’s now the sole occupant of my thoughts.

  I can’t seem to escape him. He’s everywhere today.

  Especially in my own head.

  I see him smiling, laughing. I see light shining off of his naked body.

  I’ll admit, I still feel a flush of heat at that last one.

  Ten minutes until I’m supposed to meet up with my fiancé, and I’m practically wet at the thought of another man.

  I’m the fucking worst.

  And then there’s the matter of the actual wedding.

  Can I even marry Eggs?

  Did Lock and I go through with our own wedding?

  My thoughts spin rapidly in circles, threatening to drive me mad.

  I may or may not already be married. How am I supposed to go see Eggs?

  I have no idea how I’ll even begin to explain this to him. Or, for that matter, if I should.

  I revisit the memory of the monastery again. Reliving every detail: the tattoo, the blowjob. It’s like I’m there again.

  Mostly though, I focus on the end.

  On Lock, yelling for me to marry him, and me, the
one down on my knees.

  I still can’t believe that I said yes.

  In the memory, though, I was so sure. That’s what really throws me.

  I wanted to marry him.

  To be his.

  I don’t think that Eggs even crossed my mind.

  Don’t even get me started on my guilt over that one.

  I unlock my phone screen again, entering the name of the restaurant into my GPS. The one that Eggs is probably sitting at right now.

  Waiting for me.

  My phone responds immediately.

  Ten minutes away.

  I could make it. Hell, I’d actually even be on time.

  My hand hesitates over the throttle, though, my heart picking up speed at the very thought of going there.

  Lock’s words echo through my mind, stirring up thoughts I’d rather not ponder on.

  Things like whether or not I’m just playing it safe by marrying Eggs.

  Questions about my love for him.

  I can see now that a large part of my life has been constructed purely for appearance. I’m just not sure exactly how much.

  I sit for another minute, repeatedly running the same ground in my mind, getting no closer to any real answers.

  I can practically feel my futures being divided, lines being drawn for all the possibilities there are.

  Finally, I give up the ghost, starting the bike up again and pulling out onto the road.

  I still have no idea where I’m going, but I feel sure I’ll know what to do when I arrive.

  Chapter 26

  Sammi

  2:47 PM SATURDAY

  I arrive at the restaurant even faster than I expected.

  Bombay Blues, the sign reads. It’s written in sky blues and neon pinks that completely contrast with my current mood.

  I almost ride past it, having to stop myself at the last moment.

  This is definitely not the place for my confession. Let’s face it, though, they don’t make restaurants dreary enough for what I’ve come to say.

  I almost ride past it, having to stop myself at the last moment.

  It takes every ounce of my courage to pull up to the curb.

  My heart’s beating just a hair too fast, and my hands tremble slightly as I loosen my death grip on the throttle.

  I’ve made up my mind, though.

  Now I just need to get my body to comply.

  I’ve made some mistakes in the last twenty-four hours—to put it lightly.

  Mistakes that I’ll just have to learn to live with.

  Keeping them a secret from Eggs, however, is one mistake too many. So I’ve decided to come clean.

  To unburden myself, as they say.

  The fact that I’ll just be transferring the burden onto him isn’t lost on me. But it’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

  I can’t lie to him for the rest of our lives.

  I dismount the bike, legs shaking as I do, and head for the restaurant like a woman bound for the gallows.

  This is going to hurt.

  I don’t slow, though, not even to take a breath. If I pause now, I may never find the courage to continue.

  Instead, I pull the door open, heading towards my fiancé and the toughest conversation of my life.

  Eggs looks up from his phone the moment I enter the room, a strange, almost quizzical expression on his face.

  I assume it’s due to my little disappearing act.

  He doesn’t know the half of it.

  “Sammi! You’re…here?” he says, actually sounding surprised.

  He stands, hugging me tightly.

  “I’m here.” I choke out, damn near suffocating in his embrace.

  His enthusiasm makes me feel about a hundred times more guilty. Though there’s a note of reservation in his voice as well.

  He pulls back from me, staring into my eyes, a question in his own.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been answering the phone,” I say. “It’s been a crazy day.”

  He cocks his head at me, gesturing for us to sit.

  “You could have at least sent a text,” he chides. “I’ve been worried.”

  Now that I’m here, I have no idea how to proceed. Confessing seemed difficult in my head. In person, I can hardly make my mouth work.

  Come on, Sammi. Don’t bitch out now.

  “I know,” I say, finding my tongue again. “I had to figure some things out...”

  Then I look at him.

  Like, I really look at him.

  “What happened to your nose?” I ask.

  Not because I’m trying to stall, but because Eggs’ nose is the size and color of an eggplant. It’s bandaged up well enough that he’s either decided to indulge in a little Thai plastic surgery, or he’s recently seen the inside of an emergency room.

  A strange look crosses his face, so quickly I’m not sure it was ever there.

  “Tripped coming off the plane.” He looks away, and I feel double bad.

  He’s probably embarrassed…and I just called attention to it.

  Best to just get on with it, then.

  “Sorry. I hope you, uh, feel better soon. Until then…this isn’t going to help, I know. There are some things I need to tell you,” I say, “some things I did. It might not be easy to hear, but—”

  “It’s fine,” he cuts in.

  He has no idea how far that is from true.

  “No, Eggs, really. I need to tell you something.”

  “Whatever it is, Sammi-poo, I don’t need to know. We both make mistakes—and I know you’ve been out with your party girl friends all night. Mistakes with those women are inevitable.”

  I bite my tongue on a retort. I don’t like hearing my BFFs referred to as those women. And something about the way he says Sammi-poo has my hands balling up into fists. I’m not sure why, but it grates on me.

  Even more than normal.

  “Eggs…”

  “Really, Sammi,” he says, forceful like a declaration. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is, it’s not important.”

  “But—”

  “What is important is the wedding. In just a few short hours, you’ll be my bride. Once we’re married, nothing else will matter. Right?”

  “No, Eggs.” I manage to choke out before I’m interrupted again.

  This time, by his phone.

  He holds up a finger to silence me.

  God, I hate it when he does that.

  Usually I’d complain, but today, I don’t think I really have the right.

  He pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the caller ID and then quickly up at me.

  “I have to take this,” he says, standing.

  I’m not sure what could be more important than this, but again, I bite my tongue.

  I definitely don’t have the right.

  I watch him walk to the back, phone now pressed to his ear.

  There’s no way in hell that I can marry Eggs without him knowing the truth. No matter how badly he wants to avoid it.

  There are just some things that you can’t bring to a marriage with you.

  Secrets about repeatedly hooking up with someone else are definitely among them.

  And possibly having married someone else?

  Fuck, no.

  He has to hear this.

  I watch him walk back to me, my resolve renewed. This time, he has to listen.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he says.

  Fuck.

  “What do you mean? We just—”

  This time he interrupts me with a rough kiss on the cheek.

  “I know, I know, but I’ll see you tonight!” he calls, already walking away from me.

  Son of a bitch!

  “Eggs, wait!” I yell after him, standing to follow.

  He’s out the door before I even manage to push my chair back, leaving me to stare after him in awe.

  What the hell could be so important?

  I briefly consider chasing after him, telling him everything anyway.r />
  The mental images of me, running down the street, screaming that I fucked Lock, are enough to stop me.

  So, I’ll tell him tonight then…

  I can already feel my resolve withering, though. Getting up the courage to tell him was hard enough the first time.

  I throw a tip down on the table. Unnecessary since we ordered nothing, but I consider it space rent.

  There’s really nothing to do at this point but go back to the Golden Gun.

  Maybe Percy will have some ideas.

  I mean, she’ll definitely have ideas, but maybe she’ll have a good one, too.

  I start in that direction, bypassing the motorcycle as I go.

  Maybe walking will clear my head.

  Of course, walking doesn’t really help, but at least I won’t run the risk of crashing. The way I’m feeling right now, it’s best not to operate heavy machinery.

  I navigate the streets of Bangkok with relative ease now. This area, at least, is one I know. This is a good thing, because I’m so deep in thought, my body is functioning solely on auto-pilot.

  By the time I reach the Golden Gun, I’m no closer to a solution.

  Still, I smile as I walk into the room, seeing the gang all there.

  It seems like no matter how shitty things get, their presence always helps.

  I hug each of them in turn, glad they’re okay after the kidnapping fiasco.

  Apparently, it takes more than an enraged mafia don to keep us down.

  When I get to Percy, I all but collapse in her arms. My head resting on her enormous tits is at least somewhat of a comfort.

  “What happened?” she asks, pulling me harder against her.

  “I tried to tell Eggs, but he just wouldn’t let me!” I whine in irritation, words half smothered by her chest.

  She doesn’t even complain, just holds me there like she’s my mother, and I’ve got the world’s worst scraped knee.

  “Well, then maybe he doesn’t need to know.” She pats my back, totally driving home the mother illusion.

  I pull back from her, needing to look her in the eyes.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  She nods in understanding, snaking her fingers through mine.

  “I mean, it’s not like I want to tell him. I’m fucking terrified to tell him. But, doesn’t he need to know? He’s about to marry me, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Maybe. If he’s avoiding hearing it, though…”

  “He doesn’t even know what he’s avoiding! I might already be married to Lock!” I half yell. “That’s definitely the kind of thing he needs to know.”