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His gaze landed on his wallet. Shit, the license. He’d had a way to contact her all along, and he’d been too out of it to even realize.

Yeah, he was never drinking again.

He pulled out the piece of paper and scanned Chloe’s info. Then swore and pitched it aside.

She’d listed her phone number as 1-800-Don’t-Know.

“Goddammit.” He grabbed the paper again to scan the address section, knowing it was likely a futile enterprise. Everything for the past few days had been other than the concert. He couldn’t even remember if he’d managed to perform in bed.

Maybe Chloe had run from him because she recalled more than she was letting on. Had he sucked in the sack? Maybe he’d been selfish and demanded a BJ without going down on her. Or perhaps he hadn’t done the whole clit thing during making love, because evidently, most chicks couldn’t come solely from penetration. So odd. If he was penetrated by a large dick, he’d come for sure.

Yep, he was just going to leave that whole line of inquiry alone.

His gaze zeroed in on the address line and he let out a long

, slow breath. Holy fuck, she’d put down an actual address. Whether it was hers, he had no idea, but at least it seemed feasible. Carson, California. Where the hell was that? He was pretty sure it was a suburb of LA, and he had a fuzzy recollection that it wasn’t the most prosperous area.

He typed the address into his phone and cross-referenced it with her name. Yep. Bingo.

So she was honest sometimes and lied at others. Then again, according to what he’d put down, his phone number was 666-666-6666, so maybe they’d thought they were being funny.

Whatever they’d had to drink should be outlawed.

But hell, he had an address. Now he just needed to convince her that being married to him was not a horrible thing. That maybe it might even be beneficial to them. Okay, maybe just beneficial to him, as he’d worked out in between naps on the plane ride home.

His rep was in tatters, what with the senator’s fiancée thing. What better way to seem like less of a homewrecker than to be happily married?

True, that wasn’t giving her much out of the deal. But surely they could work out an arrangement. They had chemistry in spades. The value of good sex could never be discounted.

Next time, he might even get to remember it.

After pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, he added a hoodie and a pair of aviator glasses just in case. From the state of his email and texts, his recent joyous event had broken in the news in a big way, so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume there might be a few members of the paparazzi outside.

He unlocked his door and peeked out, only to see his hallway full of people who were not the mailman or the UPS dude. No solicitors either. Just jerks with cameras and microphones and greedy expressions.

Holy shit.

He slammed the door and pressed his back to the wood. What now? And shit, was Chloe dealing with this too? If so, she must hate him.

Hate him more, since she hadn’t really seemed too keen on him after their lovely union.

Digging out his phone, he quickly called Josh, his neighbor down the hall.

“Jesus, Michael, is this all for you? What the heck did you do? I know the heat’s been up on you lately, but this is beyond.”

“I got married.” Michael rolled his shoulders. “Hey, is Davey home?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need you guys to do me a favor. If you do it, I’ll give you whatever you want. Not my Viper,” he added. “Anything but my car.”

“What do you want us to do?”

Michael outlined the plan for his friend, and luckily, Josh—and Davey—were onboard. It wasn’t exactly complicated, and he wasn’t even sure it would work. But luckily, Davey had a similar build to Michael’s, and he’d given him a Warning Sign hoodie just last week.

Long shots at least had a chance, right?

Fifteen minutes later, after Davey had so considerately caused the paparazzi to chase after him in their misguided pursuit, Michael raced down the blissfully cleared out hallway. He headed for the service elevator that would allow him to exit in the alley behind his building.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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