“I thought you were gone?” Max questions as I make my way to the front desk.

“I did leave, but I came back.” I straighten my spine, ignoring the way his eyes drop to my boobs. “And I’d really appreciate it if you could give me Preston’s room number.”

Between my anger over Preston throwing me out, my shoe situation, and not remembering the journey to his humble abode in the first place, I forgot to look at it before I left.

In my defense, I didn’t think I needed to, considering I had no intention of returning.

He leans back in his seat. “He said your plane left this afternoon.”

Now I’m the one who’s confused. Why would Preston tell him that? He doesn’t even know how long I’m here for.

I wave a hand because none of that matters. Due to Juan filling me in on what happened between him and Ronald while I was getting ready, I lost track of time.

“Can you just give me his room number please?”

He eyes me skeptically as he plucks a toothpick from its holder. “Can’t. None of the rooms have numbers.”

Disregarding the fact that that is a terrible system, I press on. “I’m cool with a map.”

He kicks his feet up on the desk. “Don’t have one.”

I smile tightly. “Perhaps a compass?”

He works the toothpick between his teeth. “We’re all out.”

My frustration comes to a peak and I slam the desk with my palm. “Good grief, dude, draw me a freaking picture then. I need to see him.”

His face scrunches. “Why?”

I raise my chin. “It’s personal.”

“Personal?”

Evidently, that’s the wrong answer for Preston’s gatekeeper, so I try again. “We’re friends.”

“You two didn’t seem very friendly earlier.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we did spend the night together.”

“That was last night.” He chews his toothpick with more vigor. “He doesn’t like visitors. Especially the female kind who come by unannounced.” He winks. “He’s not into clingers. But they don’t bother me none.”

“I am not clingy,” I shout and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“If you say so.”

Trying my hardest not to let my irritation get the best of me, I place my forearms on the desk. “Okay, here’s the deal. You’re either going to tell me where his room is…or I’m going to take one of those toothpicks and shove it in your eyeball.”

He seems unfazed. “No, you won’t.”

He’s right, anything involving eyeballs makes me squeamish. “Level with me here, Max. What will it take for you to let me through the pearly gates so I can talk to Preston?”

He thinks about this for a moment. “You can show me your tits.”

“Hard pass.” I yank on his shirt. “And the longer you prolong this song and dance, the quicker that Matteo guy will kill you. Now do us both a favor and stop acting like the messiah of douchebags so I can save my goddamn husband.”

His mouth drops open and he stares at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Preston’s not here. I had no idea you—”

“Where is he?”

He looks uneasy. “I don’t think you—”

My grip tightens. “Do you want Matteo to kill you?”

“He went to a casino downtown, you just missed him. But I really don’t think—”

I don’t hear the rest of his statement because I jet out the door.

Two cab rides and thirty-five minutes later…I spot him across the room in a swanky casino.  

And my stomach drops to the floor.

Preston’s not gambling like I thought he would be.

Instead, I watch as he leans in close to the attractive woman he’s sitting next to at the bar. Judging by the way his hand is slowly moving up her thigh and she’s giggling like a school girl, despite being a good twenty or so years older than I am…things are hot and heavy between them.

My heart jumps to my throat because Preston dating someone undoubtedly sends my plan straight to hell in a handbasket.

There’s a peculiar twinge in my chest when he whispers something in her ear and she tosses her head back and giggles again, soaking up every drop of his attention like a sponge.

Like he’s the only one in the room.

The one responsible for her racing heart, sweaty palms, and muddling thoughts.

The tiny hairs on my body stand on end as I continue observing them, seeing him the way she does.

The woman angles her body closer, completely hypnotized by his smoldering gaze, chiseled cheekbones, structured jawline, and those straight white teeth.

And I get it. I might not be attracted to him, but there’s no denying his appearance is…aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Beautiful even, if his features weren’t so jagged.

Heat invades my cheeks as I resume my examination of him through her lens. Great looks are one thing…but there’s a certain quality radiating from Preston right now. Something that isn’t so obnoxious. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

And that’s when I realize. It’s his confidence. His swagger.

There’s a magnetism about him that’s borderline seductive. Like a serpent carefully weaving a spell.

The ground trembles beneath my feet and an inexplicable weight compresses against my ribcage. Even though it’s completely irrational, I feel like I’ve been betrayed somehow.

Frustration claws its way up my throat because I don’t understand these disturbing feelings or what they mean. All I know is that it makes me hate him for being the cause of them.

My hostility grows when he gives her a devilish grin and whispers more sweet nothings to her, those deep dimples on display.

Whatever he says nearly causes her to melt right there on the spot. Part of me hopes she does so I don’t have to watch this anymore.

I’m about to walk away, but then it dawns on me. Why is Preston spending the night flirting with his girlfriend at a casino when he has people after him? Surely, he has more important things to worry about.  

That’s when I notice something sparkly on her left ring finger. It’s one heck of a big rock. Not something a person living in a motel could afford.

My spidey senses tingle as I continue my appraisal. I was so focused on Preston, I never took the time to look at her.

Everything from the red soles of her heels to the expensive silk dress she’s donning tells me she’s loaded. As if detecting my nosiness, her eyes drift across the room.

I swiftly dip behind a slot machine and follow her line of sight to where an older gentleman is playing blackjack. He’s so into the game, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t want to return the wave she gives him.

Disappointment flashes across Preston’s face briefly during the exchange, but not one to be deterred, he gives her a coy smirk and says something that has the woman blushing.

I have to bite my knuckle to stop from laughing as I put all the pieces together. Preston’s here trying to snag himself a sugar mama.

My amusement dies when she jots something down on a napkin and slips him a key card.

Sorry, lady. The position’s been filled already.  

Thinking quick, I rush over to the bar.

“There you are, baby,” I coo as I wedge myself between their stools and slip an arm around his neck.

The only person more surprised than the adulteress by my impeccable timing is Preston.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls low and deadly as I rise on my tiptoes and smack a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.

Ignoring him, I turn to the woman and stick out my hand. “Hi, there. I’m Kit.”

She shifts in her seat, visibly uncomfortable. “Shannon.”

I give her hand a firm squeeze. “Now that we got that out of the way, Shannon, I’m going to need you to run back to your husband.” I level her with a stare. “Unless you want me to inform him that you slipped my man a hotel key while he was playing blackjack.”

She drops my hand like a hot potato. “I didn’t—I’m sorry.”  

Preston’s arm swoops around my waist, tugging me back. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Who me?” I question innocently as the flustered woman scurries off and I face him. “I don’t have a problem. Then again I’m not the one soliciting married women.”

His eyes narrow. “It’s none of your business.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” I take a sip of his beer, washing down my nerves. “I have a proposition for you.”

He snatches the mug from me. “Not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard it.”

He downs the rest of his beer and looks at the bartender. “You can put this on her tab.”

And then, like we weren’t in the middle of a conversation, he stands up, nearly knocking me over in the process, and storms off.

Swear on everything he is the rudest person I’ve ever known. I toss a few bills at the bartender and chase after him. “Preston, wait.”

His strides accelerate, giving me no choice but to jog behind him.  “You know, it’s really not nice to walk away from someone who’s trying to help you.”

A middle finger in the air is my only response.

My simmering pot of aggravation boils over. “Why are you such an asshole? You were the one who ruined our friendship when you lied to me about the baby and then stuck your dirty dick in the love of my life.”

My outburst causes a few people to stop and stare, but I don’t care. I’ve tried to be mature. I’ve tried to be civil. I’ve tried to be gracious. And yet, he treats the dirt on the bottom of his shoe better than me.

“I never lied to you,” he calls out behind him.

“Yes, you did,” I argue. “In the elevator when I—”

He stops abruptly and I almost ram into his back. “Exactly, Bishop. You. I never told you anything.” He spins around. “You took what she said at face value and believed it. Hell, it was pointless for me to even go there in the first place. Biggest mistake of my life.”

I shake my head, not understanding. “What do you mean—”

“Why do you think I was in the cafeteria that day, huh? Here’s a hint. It wasn’t for the chicken salad.”

It’s like he just hit me over the head with a steel bat. So many horrific things happened that day, but it never once occurred to me that I was the reason Preston was standing there in the first place. The reason he almost died. Maybe even the reason he doesn’t get along with his brother anymore.

I clutch my chest, the realization sinking in. “That’s why you hate me so much, isn’t it?”

“No, I never blamed you for me being there.” He glowers. “But don’t accuse me of lying to you back then when I had every intention of telling you the truth.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He snorts. “Like it would have mattered. Your mind was already made up about me. I never stood a chance.”

Before I can say a word, he takes off once more, leaving me in the dust.

“That’s not true,” I exclaim. “If you told me, I would have believed you. I would have—”

“Would have what? Accused me of being a user and manipulator again?”

His words are like a punch to the gut. Not because of the bitterness behind them, although that’s a little daunting. But because he’s not wrong.

I was so angry and hurt over Becca, I had him pegged as the villain no matter what he did. Not that it excuses what I walked in on, but maybe things aren’t so black and white.

Maybe we’re stuck in the gray area.

As much as I hate to acknowledge it, Becca and Preston had a relationship that had nothing to do with me. I can’t imagine the pain of finding out the baby I was led to believe was mine for months…wasn’t. God only knows what he must have been going through. It must have stung like hell.  

I wasn’t the only one she hurt and lied to.

Turns out a mental breakdown and three long years will give you some stellar hindsight.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apology. What I need is for you to go back to wherever it is you came from and leave me alone.”

And just like that, I’m back to wanting to deck him in the face.

I follow him out the front doors. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you. If I hated you I would have left you on the street last night.”

Okay, we’re making progress. “You have a point.” I gesture between us. “See? Look at us not hating each other. Now, about my prop—”

He walks over to the taxi stand, effectively cutting me off.  

I stomp after him. “Dammit, Preston. Can you stay still for two seconds so I can talk to you?”

A vein in his forehead pulses as I approach. “Christ, you can’t take a hint. Go away.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“You have one minute.” He motions to the taxi pulling up to the curb. “Make that two seconds.”

Adrenaline races through me and I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind. “Marry me.”

Not many things crack Preston’s arctic exterior, but his expression changes in the span of a single second, going from confused, to dubious, and finally, shock. He’s so thrown off by my request, the person behind us cuts in front of him and takes his taxi.

Unfortunately, there’s another behind it and he gets inside that one. “You should lay off the drugs, Kit. They’re seriously fucking you up.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not high, you ass. I’m being—”

He slams the car door, but I wrench it open at the last minute and get in.

Preston tries to get out, but the driver takes off. “Where to?”

“Stratosphere,” Preston grumbles at the same time I say, “Same place he’s going.”

Preston glares in my direction. “Stop following me.”

“I’m not.” I fish my key out of my purse and hold it up. “It’s my hotel.”

“Of course it is.” He looks at the driver. “You can drop me off here.”

I pull out a hundred-dollar bill and hand it to the driver. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t have any money. I’ll pay double for us both if you don’t let him out.”

“No stops,” the man tells Preston.

I grin. “There’s an extra fifty in it for you too if you circle the block a few times before you drop us off.”

“Done.”

Preston throws his hands up. “Unbelievable. In case you forgot, I’m on a deadline.”

“I know, and now that I’m paying almost two hundred dollars for fifteen minutes of your undivided attention, perhaps you’ll finally listen to my proposition. Unless you look forward to knowing what it feels like to drown in your own blood tomorrow morning.”

His jaw works. “Start talking.”

I fold my hands in my lap. “I’ll give you the money so this Campanelli guy doesn’t off you. I just need you to do me a favor and marry me.”

His eyes dart around the cab briefly, like he’s waiting for me to tell him we’re on a hidden camera show. “Why in the world would you want to marry me? I thought you were a lesbian. I mean, I know I’m irresistible and all but—”

“Trust me, you’re not.” I exhale slowly, attempting to explain this the best I can. “I’m still very much a lesbian. Which is why my nanna refuses to make me her beneficiary. She’s losing her battle with cancer, and when she drew up her will, she cut me out. But her will contains all the money from my parents’ estate. The money I’m rightfully entitled to regardless of my sexuality.”

He frowns. “But everything is yours when you turn twenty-five, remember? So even if she croaks tomorrow, you only have another year to go.”

I smooth my hands down my pants to stop them from shaking. “No, I don’t. She lied to me. Sort of. According to the family lawyer, my parents wanted it to go to me when I turned twenty-five, but my dad didn’t want his money tied up in case we needed it, so he put my nanna in charge and left everything to her. He figured she would respect his wishes. He also didn’t plan on both him and my mom dying when I was eight.”

His frown deepens as I continue. “Anyway, she can legally do whatever she wants with the money. Including not give it to me because she doesn’t like the fact that her only granddaughter likes pussy.”  

In the rearview mirror, I see the driver’s eyes become saucers.

I snap my fingers. “Eyes on the road, pal.”

Preston folds his arms across his chest. “What a cunt.”

“I know. However, she said she’d make me her beneficiary if I married a man.” I bat my eyelashes. “Do I need to buy you a pretty ring and get down on one knee, or will you do me a solid and accept my curbside proposal?”

I can see the wheels in his head turning as he drags a hand down his face. “The two of us getting married is a horrible idea.”

Dread crawls up my spine. I wasn’t prepared for him to turn me down. I have no choice but to lay it all on the line. “Three years ago, Kyle held a gun up to my head and you traded places with me. Then you pulled me into an elevator and kept me safe. You didn’t have to do either of those things, but you did. I’d like to return the favor.” He starts to speak, but I raise a hand. “I know we’re not exactly bosom buddies and most of the time we can’t stand one another, but I also know I can trust you with my life. And I hope you know you can trust me with yours.”

When he starts to object again, I add, “I’ll give you two million dollars on top of whatever it is you owe Campanelli.”

The tires screech and we stop so short I’m pretty sure I’d be leaving a permanent indent in the back of the passenger seat if it wasn’t for Preston extending his arm out in front of me.

“What the hell?” Preston yells, but the driver ignores him and turns to me. “I will do it.” He takes my hand. “Beautiful pink-haired goddess, nothing in the world would make me happier than to be your husband.”

I blink, a little taken back. “Um, well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have a plan B.”

A low growl erupts from Preston. “Don’t you dare, Bishop.”

“Hey, I am a good man and good provider. I take care of my family,” the driver says emphatically. “Just ask my wife.” He kisses my hand. “She’s delightful, you will love her.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “We can all have sexy fun together, yes?”

Preston grabs him by the collar. “If you don’t turn the fuck around and start driving, the only sex you’ll be getting is my foot up your ass.”

He drops my hand like it's a grenade and a moment later we're weaving through traffic.

“Does this mean you’ll accept my offer?”

A crease forms between his brows. “No.”

I look out the window so he can’t see how disappointed I am. “So you want to die?”

“I’m not saying I couldn’t use the money, but I don’t—”

I whip my head around, beyond exasperated.  “Seriously? You were willing to get it on with a married woman you don’t even know in hopes of scoring some cash, but you won’t help a girl who is begging and offering you the money you need to continue breathing? Jesus, I know you aren’t too fond of me, but it’s not like it would be real. It’s nothing more than a business arrangement. We’d barely see one another, let alone have sex. The only time I’d contact you is if there was an emergency.”

“Sounds like real marriage to me,” the driver mutters.

“You know,” I continue, “There are much worse things that could happen to you than having me as your wife.” My chest stings, not only because every day that goes by is another day my uncle could possibly gain access to my parents’ estate. But if I can’t even get Preston—a gambler who hustles women for money—to agree to marry me, it goes without saying my chances of finding real love are bleaker than I thought.

I blink back tears. “I didn’t realize death was a better fate than marrying me.”

His expression softens. “It’s not—”

“No, it’s cool, I’ll just marry…” I look at the driver. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

His face lights up. “Kevin.”

“I’ll marry Kevin here. I think there’s a chapel nearby, right?”

“Yes,” he exclaims cheerfully. “But you need to go to the courthouse for the license first. You can fill it out online to save time. I’ll have us there in five minutes. Three if I blow this light.” He cringes. “An hour if I call my wife and tell her I’m marrying a rich American girl.”

I paste a smile on my face. “Sounds like a plan.”

Preston glares daggers at me when I pull out my phone. “You know it’s illegal to marry someone who’s already married, right?”

I don’t look up from my device. “Why do you care? You declined my marriage proposal, remember?”

He punches the seat. “Because I don’t think you should give her what she wants. Fuck, hire a better lawyer, go through the courts, but don’t let her do this to you. Don’t let her win, because no amount of money is worth giving up your soul. Trust me, I know.”

Tears sting my eyes for a different reason now. “It’s not my soul I’d be giving up.” Clutching my arms around myself, I tell him my real reason for doing this. “She’s going to leave everything to my uncle if I don’t.” Anger courses through my veins and I start shaking. “Why should he be rewarded for setting up the two people I loved the most in this world? Why should he get a prize for destroying a little girl?”

I tap my chest. “I couldn’t do anything to protect my parents. I couldn’t stop them from getting on the plane and I couldn’t convince anyone to put away the man I believe to be responsible for what happened to them. I will never get justice and it eats at my heart every time I look in the mirror and see them staring back at me. But this? Making sure he never gets a cent of what they left behind? That’s something I can do. And I don’t give a fuck if you disagree, Preston. With or without you, I’m still doing it.”

As if on cue, we drive up to the courthouse.

Kevin clears his throat. “We’re here.” He goes to get out of the car, but Preston yanks him back. “Over my dead body, buddy.”

My mouth drops open in shock. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

He gives me a small nod, his expression somber.

I’d give all the pennies in the world to find out what he’s thinking. However, I know better than to waste my time wondering…because Preston doesn’t show his cards to anyone.

“Drive-thru or indoor ceremony?” Kevin, who’s still a little bitter about not getting hitched questions as we pull up to a little white wedding chapel that’s aptly named after its description.

Preston checks his watch. “Drive-thru will be quicker.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, suppressing the urge to throw my arms around him. I didn’t get the chance to thank him at the courthouse because everything happened so quickly. We were in and out in under ten minutes with barely even a word passed between us.

Our gazes clash and he inches toward me, making it hard to breathe. I feel like the bottom of the car is about to give way underneath my feet at any second.

His hand slides to my cheek, his calloused thumb brushing over my mascara streaks from earlier. “You might want to hold off on thanking me because I owe Campanelli one million. So, it’s three million in total you’ll be forking over.” He smirks, pulling me closer. “If you want to consummate our marriage, I’ll give you the best fuck of your life for free. But if you want more than that, it’s gonna cost you.”

I scowl at his crude offer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

His nostrils flare and he clasps my jaw. The move is so unexpected, my breath stutters in my chest. “I’m dead fucking serious.”

My heart pounds when he leans in, his lips a centimeter from mine. “This isn’t a joke, Bishop. It’s your warning. Whether you ever cream my dick or not, consider yourself thoroughly fucked because you’re about to marry Preston Holden. It’s an honor that comes with a closet full of skeletons you’ll never uncover but will incinerate you anyway if you’re foolish enough to get too close to the fire.” His fingers tighten. “I’ve destroyed everything that’s ever been mine—do you really want to roll the dice and take that risk?” When I nod, the tip of his tongue flicks out to touch my bottom lip, intentionally provoking me. “Last chance, angry girl. Because once we do this, there’s no going back. Are you one hundred and fifty percent certain you want to be my wife?”

There’s no doubt in my mind Preston’s being intimidating because he likes eliciting a reaction out of me, but it won’t work. I’m not backing down. I can’t. “Yes.”

He tugs on my necklace, luring the poker chip out of my shirt as we pull up to the window. “You put a hole in my chip.”

“I had to, it was the only way I could put it on my chain.”

His fingertip traces the long line of my collarbone and I fight back a shiver from the contact. “Objects are no longer lucky if you alter them, Bishop.” The pads of his fingers drum over my heart, matching the chaotic beat. “Broken things never work as good as they used to.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the crook of my neck. “Ready to do some business, wife?”

I pivot away. “Yes, husband. First order of business—time management. My nanna says we need to stay married for one year.”

Horror crosses over his face. “A year?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. “Also known as three hundred and sixty-five days, but hey, who’s counting?”

“Hi,” a man at the window interjects, his tone making it very apparent he hates his job. Before I can return his greeting, he rattles off a list of different packages.

I’m about to opt for the pink Cadillac one, because well, it’s pink, but Preston cuts him off. “Standard drive-thru is fine. Less frills the better.”

The man nods in understanding and we hand over our IDs and marriage license.

“Wait,” I say when it occurs to me. “We don’t have rings. Don’t we need rings?”

“We have rings available for purchase here, miss. You can come in and choose them yourself.”

“Standard rings are fine,” Preston grits through his teeth.  

The man nods. “Okay, then.”

Preston shifts in his seat. “Anything else you neglected to tell me? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“We’re not up to that part yet,” Kevin, the driver informs him, much to Preston’s dismay.

I lick my lips nervously, trying to think of the best way to explain this so it won’t sound so bad. “Now that you mention it, there is.” I fidget, struggling with my next words.

“Spit it out,” he grunts as the man at the window starts speaking and the ceremony officially starts.  

“Okay, don’t get mad, but you have to meet my nanna, or she won’t make me her beneficiary. You see, she wanted to choose the guy and plan this huge wedding, but I told her I was already dating someone who works overseas. She obviously doesn’t believe me, and as a result, she wants to meet and approve of my mystery man before she holds up her end of the deal.”

He makes a choking sound. “What?”

“I couldn’t let her choose my husband, Preston. What was I supposed to do? At least now, I have some control over my life. All you have to do is meet and charm her.” I bite my lip. “Well, that and act like we’re madly in love—this way when I tell her we got hitched on our own, I’ll be able to convince her to make me her beneficiary and give me a million-dollar advance.” I clap my hands. “It can be her wedding present to us.”

I hold out my fist for a pound, but he leaves me hanging.

“Everything will be fine as long as we stick to the script.”

The bulging vein in Preston’s forehead makes an appearance again, and I know he’s liable to snap any second. Then, as if things couldn’t possibly get any worse, a man dressed as Elvis languidly waltzes over to our car, belting out a rendition of the King’s, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”  

“Let me get this straight,” Preston barks above Elvis’s singing. “You want me to go to Connecticut and attempt to win over that evil prune you call your grandmother?”

“Oh, come on,” I argue. “You clearly have a thing for older women and have no problem using or sleeping with them. Just pretend she’s one of your clients. Cast your little voodoo magic and dazzle her, Holden.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not a goddamn sorcerer. And there’s no way in hell I’m sticking my dick in your decrepit nanna, not even if you offered me five million dollars,” he roars, causing Elvis to botch his verse and the clergyman—or whatever he is, to pause the ceremony.

“Is everything okay? Should I stop?”

“No,” we shout. “Keep going.”

Both the man and Elvis pick up where they left off and I focus back on my groom. “I’m not asking you to fuck her. I’m just asking you not to piss her off. As long as she thinks we’re in love, and she likes you, we’re golden.”

Elvis holds out two small jewelry boxes and Preston snatches one. “You realize this is a terrible plan, right?”

“Do you have a better one?” I pluck the remaining velvet box. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t, because some mob guys are getting ready to chop up your body with a chainsaw and feed you your brain for breakfast.”

“Which wouldn’t be happening if you had minded your own business,” he bellows.

“Well excuse me for giving a shit, asshole. And for the record, I didn’t make you give him the duffle bag.”

“So, I was supposed to let that Russian bastard shoot you? Jesus, you’re a real—”

“Do you Preston Spencer Holden, take Kit Jameson Bishop as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?” the officiant says, cutting him off.

“Your middle name is Jameson?” Preston snaps, his lip curling more than Elvis’s.

Irritation swells in my chest. “Really? My middle name pisses you off? Good gravy, it’s not like I had any say—”

“I do," Preston snarls, no doubt to make me shut up.

“Ring,” Kevin whisper-shouts. “You have to put the ring on her finger.”

Preston tosses the jewelry box. “Catch.”

The officiant sighs. “Do you Kit Jameson Bishop, take Preston Spen—”

“She does.” Preston bangs on the side of the car. “Now will you speed this shit up? We chose drive-thru for a reason.”

The poor guy’s eyes dart between us skittishly. “As your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?” he rattles without stopping for air.

“I do.”

Preston gestures to our simple white gold bands. “Are we done here?”

The man gives us an unsure smile. “Okay, by the authority vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I hold up a hand. “Nope. That won’t be necessary.”

“The least you can do is lay one on me, Bish—” He grins menacingly. “Mrs. Holden.”

Every ounce of blood drains from my face and my stomach lurches.

I’m no longer a Bishop. I lost another part of my parents.

“Hey,” Preston says, his tone surprisingly soft. “I was joking.”

Elvis begins to sing again, but Preston sticks his head out the window and roars, “Put a sock in it,” before concentrating on me. “What’s going on?”

“My last name.” My head whirls with anguish and on instinct, I fumble around for the poker chip, but Preston’s large hand engulfs mine, keeping me steady.

“Please don’t make fun of me,” I whisper, embarrassed at my inability to keep it together in front of him.

His expression becomes intent, his focus never wavering from me. “You don’t have to change your name. Plenty of people hyphenate or choose not to take their husband’s name at all.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a small smile. “I’ve never been a big fan of Holden myself. Makes it too easy for my opponents to make fun of me during a poker game.”

When I give him a questioning look, he starts singing the chorus to “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers. Only he changes hold em’ to hold en’.

A laugh bubbles in my throat, not only because he’s serenading me off key to make me feel better, but because we got hitched in a freaking taxicab a mere few seconds ago. “I can’t believe I married you.”

He places his other hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Regretting that decision already? My singing must be worse than I thought if it’s grounds for divorce.”

“God, yes.” He looks genuinely offended now and it only makes me laugh harder. “I meant your singing. I don’t want a divorce.”

Instantly my laughter dies, and the air around us pulls tight, the full magnitude of our actions seeming to hit us both at the same time.

Nerves bunch in my belly as the realization of how much this will change everything crashes down on me like the world’s largest hammer.

Preston shifts in his seat and my hand slides to the back of his neck, clinging. Seeking comfort and reassurance from the only person who can give it to me. “What if this doesn’t work and I lose everything?”

He drops his forehead to mine and I see the resolve on his face, despite the wild thumping of his heart. “We’ve got this, angry girl.”

Memories slash through me and I nod, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You make it sound like we're some kind of dynamic duo.”

His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. “That’s because we are.”

I bury my face in his neck and his arms wrap around me, enclosing me. Like his limbs alone can shield me from all the bad things in the world.

“You make it so hard to hate you sometimes,” I whisper into his skin.

“I know.” His voice comes out gruff, defeated.

We’re so attuned in this moment, heartbeat to heartbeat, breathing the same air. I’ve never been so fundamentally attached to another person like I am with him. There’s a pull between us, one that’s much deeper than attraction. Something more profound. A phenomenon that can’t be explained. A tangible illusion.

And even though our feelings for one another can flip on a dime, our connection never will. It’s secure, solid, stable. An inherent bond that’s unbreakable.

I’m his exception, and he’s my anomaly.

“This is nice and all,” he murmurs in my hair. “But unless becoming a widow in the next thirteen hours is part of your big plan, we should probably get a move on.”

His words are like a jumpstart and I spring into action. “We need to get to the airport.”

“No worries,” Kevin says, dabbing his eyes. “I will take the happy couple to the airport for their honeymoon.”

“Thanks.” I pull out my phone so I can book our flight. “There’s a red-eye that leaves in a few hours. As long as we have no major delays, we should land in Connecticut around five a.m.” When Preston balks I say, “I know it’s cutting it close, but there’s also a three-hour time difference that works in our favor. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be back in Vegas by late morning.” I type in my credit card information and confirm our first-class reservation. “Booked. Now all I have to do is call my nanna’s assistant and inform him we’ll be there for a very early breakfast.”

“I have to see Max before we leave.”

I lean against the seat. “Checking in with your keeper, are you?”

His expression sours. “He’s not my keeper.”

Something crosses over his face then, but he tries to hide it.

My stomach dips and I’m about to interrogate him, but then he says, “I need to make sure he knows I’m not leaving town and setting him up to be killed.”

“Oh,” I whisper, feeling like an idiot. Here he is doing the right thing and I was preparing to rake him over the coals for it. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Expecting the worst from you.” I give him an earnest smile. “I know you’re not the same person you were three years ago.”

I know he won’t hurt me…because there’s no danger of falling in love with him.