Prologue
Millie
I open my eyes, and I’m staring at the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life. And he’s in my bed! Well, technically not my bed—we are in the honeymoon suite of the Paris Hotel. So not my bed, but it doesn’t matter because he’s naked and adorable, and any minute now I’m going to wake up and realize that this is all a dream.
I pinch myself.
But Sebastian King is still in my bed. I’m still staring at his muscled chest. A chest I could reach out and touch and—
A blaring alarm goes off, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not ready for Sebastian to realize I’m awake yet. I need time to process—to put everything in order in my head.
Everything is fuzzy at best. I remember coming to this hotel room with Sebastian to wait for our friends—Oaklee and Boden. This is their room. So how did we end up using it?
I don’t know.
But here we are. Two people, who are basically strangers, in bed together—strangers who turned quickly into enemies.
We don’t belong in bed together. We don’t belong together period. Yet, here we are.
I open my eyes, letting him know that I’m awake. And that’s when the accusations begin. I blame him, tell him it’s all his fault, even though I know it’s not.
I just wish I remembered what happened. We couldn’t have fucked each other? I don’t do one night stands. I don’t do men in general. I’ve sworn them off for the time being.
And yet, all the evidence points to us fucking.
Us waking up in the same bed.
Him completely naked.
Me wearing his shirt and boxers.
The opened condom wrapper.
There is no denying that we fucked.
I grip the shirt I’m wearing tighter. Of course, the first man I’ve fucked in forever, I can’t even remember.
I sigh—this is just my life.
I won’t let it get me down, though. The fucking isn’t the part I have a problem with.
“I think you should put some clothes on,” I say.
“Why? Are you hoping for a round two? Because I don’t—“
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what? Does my naked body make you uncomfortable?”
He hasn’t figured it out yet. There is one clue that he hasn’t found yet.
I hold up my left hand, flashing the pretty rock that wasn’t there yesterday.
He shakes his head, not understanding.
God, he’s such an idiot.
I point to the ring, pointing out the obvious.
“Fuck, Millie, you’re engaged?”
I roll my eyes. He thinks he fucked an engaged woman. I would never, ever cheat.
“No. At least, I don’t think I’m just engaged.” I think a lot more than just getting engaged happened last night.
“Is that Oaklee’s ring? Are you safeguarding it?”
I shake my head. Oaklee’s ring is pink; this one is gold.
“Okay…what am I missing?” he asks.
I nod my head in the direction of his left hand, unable to find the words.
His eyes follow my gaze.
“No way,” he says, staring at the gold ring he’s sporting on his left ring finger.
“No!” he says again.
I wince but force myself to say the words. “I think we got married last night.”
1