The one eye I could see was closed, his eyelashes long and straight, nearly black at the root, lightening to golden-blond at the tips. Yeah, Zane had beautiful eyelashes. Was there anything about the man that wasn’t beautiful?
Nope. I would know. Got up close and incredibly personal with every last inch of him last night, and I sure as hell couldn’t find it.
He stirred a little as I let my fingers trail down his temple and around his ear where the hair, buzzed short, felt like velvet. That one blue eye opened as I brought my hand away, and froze on me.
“Fake?”
“How long should we wait to tell my dad it wasn’t real?” I wondered aloud. “I mean… we can’t just let him believe it forever, much as I’d love to let him dangle…” It would be cruel and pretty shitty of me to lie to my dad for any length of time, and I knew it. But after what he’d said to me yesterday… my own father called me a slut, for fuck’s sake. I was prepared to let him dangle for a little while.
Hell, for all I cared we could wait until after he sent us our wedding gift. It would be something expensive, knowing Dizzy. Not out of generosity, but because he’d consider it poor form to send Zane a wedding gift that was anything less than seriously, grandiosely overpriced.
Maybe I was a terrible person, but the thought of parting Dizzy with any of his precious money made me smile. Damn right, he could send us a gift. And we weren’t returning it, either.
Zane lifted up, still eying me strangely, and rolled onto his side. His legs were all tangled up with mine from the knee down. I focused on his face to avoid looking at his cock, which was now in full view.
He blinked at me, his eyes adjusting to the pale morning light, like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right.
“It was real,” he said slowly but really quietly, and the smile dropped from my face.
Zane Traynor had fucked with me plenty of times, and you better believe I knew when he was fucking with me.
He wasn’t fucking with me now.
The intensity in his blue eyes said it all, as they burned into me with that look that could give you frostbite.
“No,” I said, so calmly I kind of scared myself. I didn’t even know where the words came from, but they were coming out of my mouth. “It. Was. Fake.”
“It wasn’t fake.”
“It wasn’t real,” I protested, my brain groping madly for an explanation that would make his words make sense.
“You thought it was fake?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together in a dangerously pissed-off look.
What the fuck was happening?
“You thought it was real?”
“Why would it be fake?”
“Why would it be real?”
I jumped up, untangling Zane’s naked body from mine and scrabbling off the bed, pulling the sheet with me as a shield.
“No. Nuh-uh. That was a pretend ceremony and you paid the chapel guy to… to…”
“To marry us?” he finished for me.
Oh. God.
“For fuck’s sake, Zane! You didn’t.”
“Pretty fucking sure I did.” He rubbed a hand over his face, looking sleepy and irritated as fuck.
Too fucking bad! He didn’t get to be pissed at me. Not when he—
“Jesus!” I jabbed my left hand in the air. “These stupid cheap rings?”
He glanced from the ring to my face, looking unimpressed as shit, and cocked that wicked pierced eyebrow at me.
“These are supposed to be stupid cheap rings, Zane,” I informed him, anger rising along with the panic. “Like pretend, ‘Ha ha, I just fake-married my friend in Vegas because it’s hilarious’ rings.”
“If you say so.”
He started to drag himself up off the bed, giving me an eyeful of his godlike body and his stupid gorgeous dick.
“No. No, we did not. I did not. I couldn’t have. I did not just marry you…” I babbled on, clinging to the sheet like a lifeline.
“Actually, sweetheart,” he said, “you did. Maybe you remember that part where you said ‘I do’ or the paperwork we signed?”
He wandered out of the room, giving me an eyeful of his sculpted ass… then he returned, holding the vest he’d worn to our wedding last night. Our fake wedding. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, sounding kinda disgusted as he dug something from the inside pocket of the vest and tossed it at me. “And by the way…”
It landed on the bed just in front of me.
A small, red velvet box.
A ring box.
“… there’s your legit proposal.”
Against my better sense, I picked up the box and opened it… to find a gorgeous platinum ring with a big-ass diamond staring me in the face.
Epilogue
Jesse
What a shitty fucking night.
I’d lain in bed, unable to sleep, for hours before I gave up on trying.
Zane invited me up to the penthouse to meet some girls, but I ignored his texts. Dylan wanted me to come down to the bar. I didn’t go.
Instead I tried to watch a movie. I tried to write some music. I played guitar for a while, just trying to clear the argument with Elle from my head.
It had really pissed me off this time.
I wasn’t fucking flirting with that chick. I was being friendly. Professional. I was pretty sure I’d know if I crossed a line, but lately, it seemed like everything I did went over some line with Elle.
I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.
So I got up and went to the rooftop gym. I didn’t want to be recognized. I just wanted to be alone. But I couldn’t stand sitting in the hotel room any longer.
Luckily, the gym was pretty much empty.
I should’ve called Jude, probably. Talked it through. But I didn’t call. I didn’t text. I didn’t want to talk; maybe I was through fucking talking. I was definitely through arguing with Elle
