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But I was using him too, after all. It was a business deal, plain and simple.
Still, I wanted to look good. I looked through the dresses idly until stopping on the perfect one.
It was revealing, low cut but not too inappropriate. It was more of a cocktail dress than a wedding thing, but it was white. I grabbed it and tried it on.
And it fit. Actually, I looked pretty damn good. I laughed, looking at myself in the dress in the mirror. It hugged my hips and flattered my body in a way I didn’t think was even possible, but there I was.
Wearing my wedding dress.
I got changed back into my regular clothes and went to pay for everything. I was shocked when the cashier told me how much it all would be, but I didn’t worry too much about it.
It was on my new husband, after all.
Smiling to myself, I left the shop and headed toward the Bellagio. I saw the sign in the distance and suddenly felt nervous all over again.
I was going to meet my husband in our hotel room. Then we were going to get married.
That still seemed like madness, even if I knew it was true.
I made my way to the hotel and gave Nash’s fake name at reception. They gave me a key and I made my way up to the top floor.
The Bellagio was all classy decorations and wealth. It was beautiful and chic, the sort of place I could never stay at on my own. The ceilings were huge and people were milling about everywhere. The marble floors were shined to perfection, and I felt completely out of place in the clothes I’d worn for the last day straight.
Finally, the elevator made it to the top floor. I checked my key, frowning, and walked forward.
There were only two doors. I tried the key on the second door, and it popped open immediately.
I walked inside. “Nash?”
The room looked like the living room of an incredibly rich family. A couch, some chairs, a table, plus its own little kitchen; it was incredible.
“In here,” I heard him say.
I walked toward the back and entered the bedroom. The whole place was huge, and the bedroom was no different. The bed was large and luxurious, and Nash was sitting in it with his shirt off, watching football on television.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
I held up my bags. “You’re a lot poorer now.”
He smirked. “Good.”
I stared at him for a second, my eyes roaming his body. “Don’t you ever wear a shirt?”
“Nah,” he said. “Not anymore I don’t.”
I frowned. “Whatever. I need to get changed, so you need to get out of here.”
He cocked his head. “Why should I leave? You’re going to be my wife.”
“Business associates, remember?” I asked. “Get out.”
He shrugged. “Fine. Just make it quick. I just made us a reservation for a little wedding chapel.”
“Okay.”
He got up out of bed and walked past me, not bothering with a shirt. I watched him leave, marveling at the muscles rippling in his back, before shutting the door behind him.
I sat down on the bed, breathing fast and hard, trying to get myself under control. I felt like I was spinning all of a sudden. Being alone with him in an expensive, luxurious hotel room was really making it all sink in.
I had to sit there and remind myself over and over why I was getting involved with him, why I was going to marry him and lie to the world.
My father might be dying, and they needed the money more than anyone else.
I stood up and walked into the large bathroom, turning on the shower. I might as well clean myself up before getting ready for my wedding.
As the hot water rained down and soaked my body, I couldn’t help but start thinking about Nash’s naked chest again, his muscles, his serious grin, his intense gaze. I couldn’t help but think about the way he looked at me, the way it sent thrills through my body.
Nash Bell. He was a mystery to me, and dangerous.
And I was going to marry him.
“Damn, girl,” Nash said, sitting up in his seat. “You look incredible.”
I blushed slightly. “Thanks. It’s not too much?”
He stood up and walked toward me. “Fuck no, it’s not too much,” he growled. “God damn, you’re getting me hard just looking at you.”
“Stop,” I said, smiling. “I figured I needed something white if we were going to get married.”
“This is perfect.” He stopped right in front of me, staring at my body.
“What are you wearing?”
He shrugged. “This.”
“No shirt?”
“I’ll grab something.”
“Okay then,” I said, looking away. “Let’s go.”
He stared at me for another second before walking back into the bedroom. He came back out in a black T-shirt. “Follow me.”
We went back down into the lobby, and he hailed a cab once we were outside. We climbed in and he gave the driver an address. He looked at me as we sped out into traffic.
