I do, I do, I do.

The words flash, in cornea-burning neon, against my closed eyelids. Each burst of unwelcome neon is accompanied by a painful throb that encompasses my entire brain.

I shift on the cool sheets and instantly regret the action as a fresh burst of pain seizes my head until I’m convinced my skull’s about to explode.

At least the bed is comfortable, though it’s not familiar and the room feels larger and airier than the hotel rooms I generally occupy.

Laying very still, I slowly shift through my memory, plucking at different files in search of the one that will provide information about where I am and how I got here.

I call up an image of a kindly man with dark skin and the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen standing, smiling, in front of me. He’s dressed in ornate robes and is surrounded by candlelight.

My stomach twists. I’m certain I no longer want to go through with this trip down memory lane, but now that I’ve started, I’ve no choice but to complete it.

Another memory, not visual but a tactile one. I’m standing in what feels like a large, cavernous room. Someone’s pressed close to my side, their fingers laced with mine. I smell their spicy cologne, feel their lips brushing my hair. Close by, someone is talking, well not talking so much as reciting a speech, in an unfamiliar language.

The person holding my hand, whispers a translation in my ear and prompting my response.

The knot in my stomach tightens.

Now a glass full of golden champagne appears before my mind’s eye. I recall how sweet it tastes and how much the bubbles tickling my nose delight me.

Then a car ride. More champagne. Warm hands and hotter kisses that sear my skin and make writhe and squirm even as I demand more.

I don’t want to do it, but my body acts against my will. I crack open a single eye and glare at my left hand. A simple gold band with a huge diamond setting winks at me.

“Oh shit.”

“Really?” a soft feminine voice startles me. “That’s not how most women would respond to becoming a princess.”

I roll over and force both eyes open. It’s a struggle.

The most elegant woman I’ve ever encountered is perched on the edge of my bed. Her long dark hair hangs in a braid down her back, just a few strands escaping, which instead of looking messy like the would on me, only serves to accent a face so perfect it should be a cameo.

I swallow and attempt to get my tongue, which feels about three sizes too big for my mouth and is covered with moss. “I’m fuzzy about exactly what happened last night – but I’m fairly certain you weren’t there.”

“Mmm, you’re right, though I do wish I had. I might have prevented a major scandal.”

“Uh huh.” I start to sit up, only to discover that I’m naked beneath the sheet. My face burns as I scramble to cover myself. I don’t remember doing anything the required removing my dress, so why the Hell aren’t I wearing it now. “Exactly who are you?”

“I’m Princess Shelly Nikolay. Lucas’s brother and apparently your sister-in-law.”

“Oh.” No other response comes to mind so I extend my right hand, “Alexis Thane.”

Shelly shakes her head. “No, not Thane. Nikolay. You need to get used to using it.”

“Relax Shell. We’ve only been married a few hours. She has plenty of time.”

Lucas rounds a corner. A thick lock of dark hair hangs over his brow. I watch as water gathers at the ends of the hair until it’s weight frees it. It slides along the contours of his face, falls off the edge of his jaw, and rolls down a perfectly chiseled torso before it’s progress is halted by the thick white towel he’s wrapped around his waist.

Despite my pounding head and growing sense of regret, my tongue wants to trace the damp line the water left and then nudge the towel away and see what it hides.

My gaze slides up his body, lingering a moment on the towel, before locking with his.

Caught. My face burns and I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“You’re wet.” Not exactly witty, but at least it’s not another one of my stupid jokes.

“Side effect of showering,” he says in a warm tone that makes my toes curl. He studies my bare shoulder. His eyes smolder. ‘Shame you were so soundly asleep. You could have joined me and then we’d both be … Simply.”

Shelly flows to her feet. No one should look so beautiful, graceful, and put together when they’re wearing nothing but faded jeans and a simple lightweight sweater. It’s not fair.

She swats Lucas’s arm. “Enough. There’s no time for her to get used to her new name, or for your fun time shower games. Or anything else for that matter.”

“What are you talking about.”

Shelly tugs her smartphone out of her back pocket and hands it to him. “That.”

Lucas studies the screen and I study his face, trying to gain some insight into the man I married in a drunken, hormone driven haze. His expression doesn’t change, but the rest of his body tenses.

“Son of a bitch.”

“What is it?”

The sibling ignore me.

“That’s only part of it,” Shelly reaches over and swipes at the screen. With each swipe, Lucas’s tension and my apprehension increases. “This is going to take some serious damage control, big brother.”

“Hey!” I immediately regret raising my voice. The sound vibrates through my skull. That’s it, no more drinking.

I take a few deep, shaky breaths, waiting for the throbbing to recede before continuing. “What is going on?”

“This.” Shelly snatches the phone from her brother’s hand and shoves it towards me.

I squint against the screen’s glare.

“Here.” The mattress dips under Lucas’s weight. He reaches over and dims the screen. “Better?”

The unexpected sweetness of the gesture combined with the spicy scent of his soap sets my heart pounding. He’s so close his heat warms my bare shoulder.

I swallow and try not to think about the fact that we’re both naked. “Much. Thank you.”

Despite the dimness of the screen it still takes a moment to process what I’m seeing.

It’s a Google search page of newspaper, magazine, and blogs results. Each one shows a page heading the screams variations of the same theme.

“Oh God.” I groan. I don’t know whether it’s the alcohol or what’s on the screen is making me feel this sick. I pass the phone back to Lucas. I don’t need to see any more.

He stares at the screen. “There was a reporter at the hotel last night. Young. I’d never seen him before. He overheard you and Tessa.”

“So, this is my fault?” I bite back. My head spins. I can’t believe what I’ve done.

“No,” Lucas says firmly, gripping my hand. “It’s mine. I should have done things differently. I was so caught up in convincing you to get married, I didn’t think things through. I thought I’d have a few days before the press got wind of the story.”

“Well you don’t. You’ve got to start doing damage control.” Shelly snatches her phone and returns it to her back pocket. Her eyes meet mine. “Starting with meeting the parents – so you had better change into something appropriate.”