Page 41 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

I scoff. “She’s not going to take my money.”

“Worth, do you realize you barely know this woman? Did you do it as a dare or something?”

I sigh. “On a whim. We’re in Vegas. Why not?”

Byron’s mouth presses into a hard line. I can tell he’s got the urge to punch me. But I can’t give him answers I don’t have.

“I don’t have it figured out yet,” I say. “Things will unfold.”

“Have you hit your head? Are you on an acid trip? What the actual fuck is going on?”

“Avril’s on academic probation. So I’ve got to sort that shit out when I get home. Looks like the building on Ninth I invested in is more of a money pit than I suspected, given Mason has fucked off with five hundred grand.”

“Fuck, Worth. That doesn’t sound good. So you were trying to escape and decided to get married? I mean, I get having an emotional reaction and everything, but maybe next time try and work it out at the gym, rather than enter into a potentially life-changing contract.”

“I didn’t get married because of Avril or Mason. I got married because I like Sophia. I really like her and… I went with my gut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Byron says, “Nothing much I can say to that, is there?”

“Nothing you need to say.”

“Just promise me you’ll come to me if you feel out of your depth. I know you’re used to handling anything and everything, but it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. We’re all here for you.”

I clink my champagne glass against his. “Thanks.”

“And congratulations,” he says, an eyebrow raised.

I grin and glance over at Sophia. If she’s the biggest mistake I make in my life, then so be it.

TWELVE

Sophia

Traveling private is the worst. I’m officially ruined when it comes to flying commercial.

We get to the bottom of the steps on the tarmac in New York to find six blacked-out SUVs waiting. We all say our goodbyes like we’re never going to see each other again, and everyone peels off into their waiting vehicles. The first one is for Jules and Leo. The second for Bennett and Efa. The third for Fisher, the fourth for Jack, the fifth for Byron.

“The last one is ours,” Worth says, as he pulls up the handle on my carry-on he just brought down the stairs.

My heart starts to thunder in my chest.Ours? We’ve known each other days. When did anything becomeours?

“I thought we could talk on the way back to Jersey,” Worth says, his tone relaxed.

“You’re inviting yourself back to my poky little apartment?” I ask.

“No, I was going to see you home and head back to the city.”

My stomach swoops at the thought of him leaving me, but I’m not sure I want him to stay either. I’m a confusion of feeling.I left New York having spoken to this man only once. Two days later, I’m coming back married.

This is ridiculous.

“Oh,” I say.

“Let’s not overanalyze this,” he says. “I have a car. You need a ride.”

I bite my cheek, but in the end I can’t resist. “Debatable after last night.”

He raises his eyebrows and I laugh.

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