Page 5 of The Accidental Wife

“Oh, is that right? I sure as hell seemed like your type last night.” I point out, and her eyes narrow to slits, and she takes a step toward me.

“You…you said you didn’t remember anything.” She says, pointing a finger in my face. I look at her finger and back at her again and roll my eyes.

“I don’t. But the state of the room when I woke up this morning was a clear indication of a good night,” I take a step closer to her, and she cranes her neck to look up at me. “There was a trail of clothes from the door to the bed, which means we were completely lost in our passion to not give a damn about anyone’s type,” I state matter-of-factly and wink at her. “Not to mention you’re sporting my signature ‘fucked out’ look.”

Shayla’s green eyes grow wide. She huffs and takes a big step back, putting some space between us while raking her fingers through her hair, clearly frustrated.

“Wow. I’m not even going to dignify that remark with a response.” She sighs, stops pacing, and looks at me again. “What are we doing to do? Is this marriage even legal?”

“I’m afraid so.” Her shoulders slump, and she shakes her head.

“Surely they can’t marry us when we were that drunk?” She questions, glaring at me. I shrug and set my cup of coffee down, and take the marriage certificate off the table.

“Anything can happen in Vegas. Here, I found this in my pocket this morning.” She takes the paper from me and unfolds it.

“What is this?”

“Our marriage certificate. Signed by us both haphazardly but still signed nonetheless.” I tell her, and she reads through the document before she looks at me.

“Oh my God, we’re actually married.” She mumbles, leaning against the dining table. I sigh and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. She looks distraught, just staring at the floor, and I don’t do well with consoling girls who are upset. I get uncomfortable and clam up.

“Hey, look, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll get an annulment or a divorce, and we’ll go on with our lives like this never happened.” I assure her. She lifts her gaze to look at me, and I swear the sadness in her eyes sent a tremor through me.

She nods eventually and straightens, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” She sighs and looks around the room in bewilderment, then frowns a little, scratching her head awkwardly. “Uh,” She chews her bottom lip a little. “I can’t find my dress…” I let my eyes roam around the room. “I also need to figure out how the hell I’m going to get back home.”

“Oh, I’ve sorted that. Our flight to London leaves in two hours.” I inform her, and she nods. “I’ve also arranged some clothes to be delivered for both of us. You look about a size ten. Coffee?” I offer. She stares at me, her mouth agape, and nods before she sits on a chair at the dining table. I pour her a black coffee and set it down on the table in front of her.

She continues to stare at me, her brows knitted together. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. Please let me know how much I owe you, and I’ll pay you back.” She lifts the mug to her lips and takes a long sip, closes her eyes, and sighs. Yeah, that first sip of coffee when you’re hungover is like heaven. I hadn’t noticed I was staring at her until she looks up at me and frowns.

I shake my head and shrug. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no problem. I’m sure you’d like to shower and freshen up. I didn’t order breakfast because I wasn’t sure what you would like to eat.” I tell her and disappear into the bathroom. “Why don’t you go ahead and order us some room service?” I suggest while she blinks and hesitantly nods.

* * *

After a long,well-needed shower, and a couple of business calls, Shayla and I ate breakfast to soak up the alcohol we consumed the night before. My stomach felt queasy, and the avocado toast I had helped settle it. Shayla showered and dressed in the clothes I had arranged for her. She came out of the bathroom looking refreshed in a pair of tight-fit light blue jeans and a low-cut black tee. We left the hotel and made our way to the airport. Shayla gets out of the car as we pull up at my private jet and stares up at it bewildered. “This is yours?” She questions as we walk over to it.

“Sure is, sweetheart,” I tell her and gesture for her to walk up the steps. I honestly cannot wait to get back home. I feel rough, and I have so much work I need to catch up on. I slide into a seat on the plane and watch as Shayla wanders around. She seems apprehensive, and I find myself wondering if she’s a nervous flyer. “Do you plan on standing there the entire ten hours of the flight? Take a seat. I won’t bite unless you ask.” I tease, and she shakes her head, mumbling something under her breath while she hesitantly slides into the seat next to me, staring out of the window, her fingers fumbling in her lap while she nervously chews on her bottom lip.

I wish I could read her mind right now. There is something about this woman. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she’s very different compared to the women I go for usually, and this is by far the longest I have spent with any girl I’ve slept with ever. I don’t even stay the night with them. I usually leave right after we get done doing the deed.

Like my best friend Josh says, ‘You fuck and duck out.’ Sounds awful, I know, but I don’t have time for relationships. Between my workload and the travelling that I do, there is simply no time for a girlfriend or a social life of any sort. After my last relationship of three years crashed and burned almost a year ago, I’ve made work my priority.

I stir out of my sleep when I hear the captain's voice over the intercom. I must have fallen asleep while reading. Shayla’s sleeping with her head on my shoulder, her arm wrapped around my bicep, and I had my head resting on hers. I brush a strand of her hair out of her face gently. She’s stunning, even without makeup.

As the wheels of the plane touch down on the tarmac, Shayla suddenly jolts awake and slowly lifts those olive coloured eyes, and looks up at me. I smirk at her, and she blinks. It takes her a moment to realise her head was on my shoulder, and she jerks away and sits upright, brushing her fingers through her hair, and she clears her throat, looking around uneasily. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“A good few hours.” She looks at me and frowns a little before leaning over and pulling her shoes on.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. You should have woken me.” I smile and shake my head, watching her as she straightens, rubbing her neck.

“Don’t sweat it. I was asleep, too. We must have been more tired than we realised.” Shayla nods with a sigh as she walks through the plane toward the exit.

“Tell me about it. It’s been a hell of a weekend.” She says as we make our way down the steps of the plane. She stops suddenly and looks at the car and then back at me. “Did we use this car last night?”

I nod, and she blinks and looks at the car again. “We left the club in this last night.”

“Huh, I remember the car but nothing else.” She replies and looks at the driver, and frowns. “Actually. I remember him, too.” Gerald smiles and nods curtly at her before he opens the door for her to get in.

“Evening, Miss.” Shayla eyes him sceptically before she gets in the car. An hour later, we pull up at the address she gave Gerald. She steps out of the car, and I follow her out and walk around the vehicle.

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