The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 6

This must be how Jerry felt, running and hiding from Tom, I decide, thinking about one of my favorite cartoons. After leaving Ares, I’ve been walking around, entering and leaving various stores and casinos. Since I only have a limited amount of money, I haven’t bought anything except for a bottle of water and a big, floppy hat with two mini-sunflowers on one side.

Doris, Vernon, Rupert and their men are looking for me. Every time I spot one of them, dread slashes at my gut. They don’t seem to recognize me—maybe it’s the loose hair or maybe it’s the hat. I also ripped off the sleeves of my dress and the two outer layers of the skirt, so it’s as limp as old lettuce, rather than the poufy dandelion puff it started out as. I considered buying a set of new clothes until I realized I’d have to ask somebody to help me out of the dress, and didn’t want anybody to see my scar.

Still, it’s only a matter of time. They’re determined to find me and force me to marry Rupert. I hadn’t really thought things through when I fled the room. I need to do more than just run; I need to permanently stop them. The only way to do that is to get a husband of my own choosing who won’t throw me under the bus for my aunt.

Why didn’t I realize this sooner? Then I could’ve asked Ares if he wouldn’t mind being a husband in name only for at least six months. I could’ve offered to reward him handsomely for it, too.

Yes, he’s a stranger and I don’t know anything about him. But he helped me without asking questions or demanding compensation, which was surprising. In my experience, people don’t lift a finger to assist unless there’s something profitable in it for them. Someone like Ares is likely altruistic and trustworthy, at least enough that I could trust him for a few months until I’m safely in control of my inheritance.

My grandfather despised Doris and did everything in his power to ensure she couldn’t touch the inheritance or kill me. Her bad-mouthing her brother—my dad—and mismanaging a small subsidiary he put her in charge of didn’t help. Grandfather loathed men and women who overestimated themselves. He told me that as soon as I was married or came of age, I needed to get a lawyer specializing in tax, estate planning and other financial matters and ensure that Doris and her family couldn’t leech off me.

How and where can I find a suitable groom? I look at the crowd milling on the night streets of Vegas. Couples, more couples, groups of women…a few guys who could be single, but I don’t like that they look like they just finished high school. Some Elvis impersonators. Should I hire one of them to be my fake husband?

And is a fake husband going to be enough? Won’t Doris check? I would if I were her. What if she tries to invalidate my marriage? I know nothing about the legal requirements for marriage in the States.

Argh. So irritating.

I wish I’d somehow found a way to keep in touch with Ethan. He’s in the States, and it’s possible he lives in Vegas. If he’s single, he could help. Or maybe he could refer me to a single friend who isn’t a greedy sociopath. Ethan seemed like such a nice guy. Smart, too. Knew a lot about art. And saying his favorite artist was my mom during our first-day introductions endeared him to me.

It’s sad that he’s one of my closest friends and I’ve never even met him in person.

Then I see him—Ares! And he’s coming toward me! He’s walking a bit unsteadily—maybe had too much to drink? He’s looking around, squinting under the neon lights, then flinches when his eyes land on a guy several feet behind him. The man starts after him, but Ares also begins walking faster.

Is he in trouble? The man is coming up quickly. I trot to Ares, spreading my arms as though to hug him. As curious I am about what’s going on, I want to help him first. That’s the least I owe him for his act of kindness earlier.

But before I can reach him, he makes a small turn and starts to push the door of a casino to his left. Acting on instinct, I grab his wrist. His whole body stiffens, his bright blue eyes boring into mine with the ferocity of a cornered lion. Shivers skitter along my spine, and my mouth dries. This isn’t the kind of reaction I expected.

The reflection of Ares’s pursuer grows closer in the glass door. First things first: time to rescue Ares.

I paste on a bright smile. “Hey, baby, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” I twirl in my dress. “Like my wedding gown?”

Recognition flickers in Ares’s wide eyes. “Lareina?” he says, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting the perfect wedding gown!” It’s an easy lie, and the truth would definitely attract nosy eavesdroppers.

The stalker is still coming toward us, but looks a bit uncertain now. Ares’s eyes flick to the glass door too, and his mouth tightens. I have no clue who the creep is, but Ares obviously wants to lose him, and there are certain distractions that make people look away. Like a fairly intense public display of affection.

Smiling, I put my hands on Ares’s cheeks, feeling the day’s growth of beard scratching my palms. He looks down at me in confusion, but I give him no time to ask questions before I pull him down for a kiss.

The sacrifices I make to keep him safe.

I’ve experienced a kiss before, when Rupert ambushed me on my sixteenth birthday. All I remember of that appalling incident is that his breath held a hint of onion and Tic Tac, and his mouth was wet, slimy and slightly cool. His tongue didn’t feel any better as he shoved it between my teeth like a squirmy salamander.

Ares’s large hand supports my back out of reflex, the touch hotter than a brand and inexplicably delicious. The hard muscles of his chest and legs press against me, cradling me. My heart rate picks up and starts to race. A wild cocktail of anticipation and jitteriness pulses in my veins. He smells so good—something spicy and woodsy and safe and exciting, all at the same time. Butterflies fluttering in my belly, I brush my mouth against his. His lips are surprisingly soft and hot. Searing tension winds around my gut, an illicit thrill sparking along my back. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I slide them upward until they’re looped around his strong neck.

His mouth remains closed, and I freeze with my tongue pressed against his lips. Now what? Shouldn’t he make the next move, since I already did my part? Or is he waiting for me to do everything?

I open my eyes, and realize he hasn’t closed his. Surprise lingers in his gaze, pupils dilated. Abrupt annoyance and embarrassment heat my face. Obviously, I’m the only one who felt anything. Did the contact feel like a squirmy salamander for him?

Forget it. I purse my mouth and pull away. I’m not desperate enough to continue with a guy who’s grossed out by me.

Suddenly he cups the back of my skull, threading his fingers into my hair. His mouth claims mine, open and carnal, stealing my breath away. I don’t even realize I’ve parted my lips until his tongue glides inside, stroking me and sending delicious sizzles all over. My head spins, and I grip his shoulders to anchor myself. His body was warm earlier—now it’s scorching. The air in my lungs grows thick, and I stroke his tongue with mine, curious if it’ll feel as amazing for him.

A soft groan vibrates in his chest. He pulls me tighter, and I feel intoxicated, high on newly discovered sensations. My cheeks burn, and I wish we could get closer. Much closer. My breasts ache, pressed against his torso, and the tips tingle. An unfamiliar throbbing starts between my legs. An almost irresistible urge to wrap one of them around his waist scrapes along my nerve endings, but I restrain myself. That seems a bit too much, even in Vegas.

My head grows lighter and I slump, slightly dizzy. He holds me tight. Is it from not having eaten much all day? But the weakness in my limbs seems somehow different from the effects of not having eaten.

“Breathe.” Ares has my head resting on the spot between his shoulder and chest. I sense his pulse, his quickened breathing. The world quits spinning, although I’m still overly hot and sensitive all over. “What was all that?” he asks.

“Distraction? Reinforcement?” I say vaguely, looking around for the stalker. “That freak who was following you is gone.”

Ares sighs, then runs his fingers through his hair with an irritation I can’t understand. “Kissing a strange man isn’t the smartest move,” he says as he puts a hand on my back and starts to walk along the Strip. His gait is off…a little awkward and slow, like he’s fighting sleep or extreme fatigue. Does he feel weak in the knees from the kiss like me? My cheeks warm at the possibility.

“You aren’t exactly a stranger,” I say. “I know you, and I told you quite a bit about myself earlier.”

He looks at me seriously. Thoughts flicker in the depths of his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, as though he’s trying to sort himself out first.

“Besides, you helped me earlier, and I wanted to return the favor,” I add. Does what I’m saying sound weird? By now, most people probably have close friends and boyfriends. I don’t have anybody I can call a friend. Aimless trust-fund babies make up my social circle. They’re great for inviting to wild parties to cement my reputation for unpredictability, but nothing more.

His shoulders deflate for some reason. Maybe he expected a better explanation…?

“That thug was expecting a lone man, obviously, not a man kissing a woman in a wedding dress. The guy after you probably thought we were newlyweds and decided he’d made a mistake. Happens a lot in Vegas, I heard. Eloping, I mean, not getting chased by bad guys.”

A corner of his mouth twitches in a small smile. “And yet here we are.”

“Can you tell me who that was? You don’t have to if you don’t want,” I add in case it’s too private, although I’m dying of curiosity. Ares doesn’t seem like a criminal, but…you never know. If he’s in trouble, maybe I can hire a lawyer to defend him and get him out of whatever mess he’s involved in. Rupert bragged his attorneys could get him out of any jam on a technicality.

“My uncle’s man. He wants me to work for him.”

My heart softens with sympathy. He too has a shitty relative. “And you don’t want to.”

“Hell no.” Ares shudders. “That would be my idea of hell. He’s not a nice man.” The finality in his tone says he’s not discussing his uncle anymore. “How about you? Did you figure out how you’re going to get away from your aunt?”

“Not yet. Her family and guards are still looking for me.” I make a face. They won’t give up until they get their hands on my money permanently.

“Need help?”

“Are you a lawyer specializing in estate and tax law?” I tease him a little, since I doubt he’s volunteering to marry me right now.

He frowns. “No.” We walk in silence for a few moments, and then he stumbles.

“Are you okay?”

He closes his eyes briefly. “No.”

“Drunk?” There’s a whiff of alcohol on him.

“No. The uncle I told you about? He put something in my drink to make me malleable.”

I inhale sharply and scrutinize him. Bloodless complexion. Beads of sweat popping along his hairline. His pupils are wider and more dilated, his eyes glassy. “Do you need to throw up? Maybe sit down?”

He shakes his head. “No. Too late to purge it. Just have to avoid him until the drug wears off.”

“Jeez. I thought only I had relatives with a propensity for drugging people.” I put my arm around his waist. He’s too big for me to really support, but hopefully I can help him balance better.

We turn left, and I stop, air catching in my throat at the sight of a tall, beefy man with an earpiece and sharp cheeks. He’s scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes, so I turn my head to the side, making sure my hair curtains my face.

“What’s wrong?” Ares says.

“One of my aunt’s guards.” It’s the one I dubbed Creepier.

Without thinking, I pull Ares into the closest establishment, praying Creepier didn’t spot me.

“Hello! Here for your marriage certificate?”

An Asian lady smiles sweetly at us from behind a counter, her short, bleached hair falling around an oval face with soft, rosy cheeks.

“Did you already apply online?”

Oh shit. This is the place Doris wanted Rupert to drag me to! I’m sure they did, in fact, already apply online, but there’s no way I’m telling this kind lady that. I’d rather twerk naked in front of a church on Sunday while belting a Cardi B tune.

I glance at Ares, then at the door. Creepier is probably still outside looking for me. Creepy could be coming. Worse yet, Rupert could be rushing here right now to get the marriage license.

But can I ask Ares to go along? He might not want to—

“No,” he says to the woman.

“I guess you didn’t know about the program. It makes it so much quicker. But it’s okay. I can still help you. Oh my goodness, what am I doing? I’m Pippa!” She extends her slim hand, long nails shining with fresh polish. “Let’s get started.”