Page 14 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

As I shift in bed, I’m aware of a warm body curled up behind me, which is strange since I never invite anyone back to my apartment or hotel room. The women I’ve slept with know my terms—one night, no strings attached, and no misconceptions of a long-term commitment. And I always leave before they wake up.

When I glance over, my breath catches when I see Everly lying next to me. Dark tresses fan out across her pillow, her full lips slightly parted while she sleeps soundly.

The last time I saw her before last night was a few weeks after high school graduation. Her parents had just gotten divorced, and she left for college early. Theo and I took her to the airport, and as much as I hated seeing her go, I told her she would have the adventure of a lifetime.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

I’m in the same bed as my best friend’s sister, and I can’t remember what happened after we left the piano bar last night.

This is bad. Very bad.

I disentangle myself from her, easing her arm from my hip so I can get up. I pause when she stirs, letting out a soft moan, but within seconds her breathing evens out.

I’m relieved to find my phone on the nightstand and unlock it. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead when I see my screen saver has changed to a photo of Everly and me sitting in the back of a bright pink Cadillac.

In front of a wedding chapel.

She’s wearing a fitted white wedding dress, completed with a short veil and high heels. A small bouquet of daffodils rests on her lap, and she is smiling into the camera. My arms are banded around her waist as I look down at her with affection.

Holy fucking shit.

I wipe my hand across my face, pausing when a cool piece of metal brushes against my skin. The weight on my ring finger registers, and my gaze shifts to the nightstand where the marriage certificate confirms my suspicions—Everly and I got married.

Memories from last night begin to flash back into my mind. Everly laughing while browsing a rack of wedding dresses at a boutique located in the Shoppes at Premiere. An officiantdressed as Elvis reading us our vows. Me carrying Everly across the threshold of our hotel room.

I vaguely remember ordering room service. After our dinner of cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes, we watched several reruns ofBig Bang Theory in bed, and fell asleep cuddling.

I’m still wearing last night’s white button-up shirt and boxer briefs, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I glance over at Everly and see she’s in her bra and panties. The only piece of clothing on the floor appears to be her dress.

The only thing that could have made this situation worse is if we had sex.

I run my fingers through my hair and consider the mess we’re in. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit, but this takes the cake.

Theo is going to kill me when he finds out, and I don’t even want to imagine how Everly is going to react when she wakes up and realizes she’s married to the guy she called a Casanova. I could wake her up to talk about what happened, but I figure it’s best to let her sleep.

In the meantime, I’m going to take advantage of Premiere’s world-class room service and order some food for us. Hopefully, her favorite breakfast will help ease the shock when she wakes up to this unexpected situation.

“Cash Stafford, where are you?” Everly’s furious voice carries down the hall.

I don’t respond, taking another bite of my acai bowl. There’s no predicting what will happen when she finds me, so I might as well enjoy what could very well be my last meal.

The sound of her bare feet against the hardwood floor fills the living room as she storms in. Her hair is gathered on the topof her head in a loose bun, and she’s dressed in the same white dress she wore last night.

“Good morning, Ev. How did you sleep?” I pop a piece of banana into my mouth.

“Cut the shit, Stafford. Care to explain this?” She sticks out her hand, thrusting the massive diamond on her finger into my face.

“It’s a ring.” Another memory surfaces of me calling in a favor to have the manager of the upscale jewelry store on the second floor of Premiere show us the exclusive collection of rings they keep under lock and key—one of the many perks of my family owning the hotel.

The five-carat pear-shaped diamond set me back two hundred thousand dollars, yet it felt like it was meant to be since it fits her finger perfectly.

I may have gone overboard, but in my buzzed state, I loved the idea of Everly walking around with a giant rock on her finger, so there was no question who she belonged to. It’s not like I can’t afford it. Even sober, I find it oddly satisfying.

“Why are you acting so calm?” She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “We got married last night. How could you let that happen?”

“Me?” I point at my chest. “You were happy to go along with it. I recall you were adamant that we—and I quote—find the perfect dress for the best night of my life. That detail must have slipped your mind,” I taunt her. “I appreciated the ego boost. It’s not every day a pretty woman says getting married to me is the best thing to happen to her.”

In fact, it’s the last thing I expected to hear in my lifetime, considering I swore I’d never settle down.

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