When Shay lost her father at 16 years old she became the sole provider for her mother and brother. This meant giving up on her dreams of becoming an architect and working day and night to help support her mother.

After many unsuccessful job interviews, Shay lands a job as the executive assistant to the CEO of one of the world's most renowned architectural firms in the world.

Just when she believes her life is on the right track she meets a mysterious stranger while she's out celebrating her new job with her two best friends.

One night passion led Shay down a path she never expected. Waking up next to the handsome stranger, in Las Vegas with a hangover from hell, a diamond engagement ring on her finger and a marriage certificate with her name scrawled next to another...Tristan Hoult.

(Accidentally Yours: 151 Chapters & The sequel Love Me Again: 131 Chapters)

Shayla

Authors note: This book was previously titled, 'The Accidental Wife' as the author and the rightful owner of this book I have made the decision to change the title to Accidentally Yours. The story in its entirety remains the same and the only changes will be the cover and the title of the book.

Thank you!

Happy reading.

****

“MISS HART?”

I blink and lift my gaze to the older man sitting in front of me, staring at me, patiently waiting for me to answer his question. I study his appearance, grey hair, but not completely white. He has streaks of a darker shade running through the strands—his eyes a startling green, cool and glorious. For an older gentleman, he was handsome. He’s sporting stubble of a greying beard. He is a silver fox in every sense of the word. I shift in my seat and cross my legs, sitting upright, hopeful this will give him the impression that I am confident and accomplished.

“I believe my greatest quality is that I’m headstrong. While some may consider this a flaw, it just means I never give up. However difficult the task at hand may be. Once I put my mind to something, I won’t stop until I achieve it.” I say confidently, looking him directly in the eyes. He nods slowly, holding my gaze for a beat before he leans forward, and his full lips quirk ever so slightly.

“I like that answer. All I have heard all day is that they are confident, ambitious, and trustworthy.” He says and leans back in his chair, dropping his pen on his desk. “I like you, Miss Hart. Are you able to start Monday?” I resist the urge to squeal and press my lips together. I smile politely.

You can freak out when you leave Shay. Keep it together! “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Come in on Monday morning at nine o’clock sharp, and Heather will show you around and get you on the system.” He says, rising from his chair and holding out his hand. I stand and take his offered hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you so much. I appreciate this opportunity, Mr Hoult.” I tell him, picking up my handbag. He escorts me to the glass door to his office.

“Welcome to the team, Miss Hart.” I smile up at him politely, thank him and leave his office. Once outside, I heave a sigh of relief. I got the job. I will be working for one of the most prestigious architectural firms in the world. Granted, as an executive assistant to the CEO, but still. I will work my arse off, learn everything I can from him, and finish my degree. One day, I can show them I have the talent and skill to be an architect at one of their firms.

After a crappy couple of months, things are finally starting to look up for me. Having to drop out of university, unable to afford the tuition fees and provide for my brother and mother has been challenging. I had to put my career on the back burner and take care of my family. We lost my father to a traffic accident eleven years ago now, just after my sixteenth birthday, and I have been the sole provider for them since. I have an older brother, Sam, but he’s unable to hold down a job for longer than a couple of months due to his ADHD and anger management. He does try, but he’s unable to concentrate for long, which often results in poor performance. My mother hasn’t left the house since my father died. He was the love of her life, and when we lost him, we lost a massive part of my mother too. She’s terrified to leave the house and hasn’t been able to face the world without him.

I have a good feeling. My life is finally about to get a little easier.

I rush up the stairs to the apartment that I share with my two best friends Jo Sinclair and Aimee O’Connor. They’re my lifeline, and I’m so happy I have them in my life. The moment I slide the key into the lock, the door is practically ripped open, and they both stand there, hair in messy buns on top of their heads, both in oversized sweatshirts staring at me expectantly with wide eyes.

“Well?” They say in unison.

“What?” I question, looking between them. I know they’ve been dying to find out how my interview went if the fifteen voicemails and fifty texts I got earlier was any indication.

“Bitch, how did the interview go?” Aimee utters after she swallows her mouthful of lucky charms.

“It went well,” I reply, trying to walk in, but they both block my way. “More…” Jo drawls, narrowing her honey-coloured orbs at me in scrutiny. I huff and shrug my shoulders.

“Well, he seemed interested, but there were so many more suitable applicants there with more experience, so…” I watch as both their faces fall, and I fight the urge to smile.

“Oh, well, it’s their loss because you’re amazing, bish,” Jo says, wrap- ping an arm around my shoulder and guiding me into our apartment. “Something else will come up. I know it.” She adds positively, like the good friend she is. I look around our cosy apartment. Three decent sized bedrooms. An open plan lounge, with a small kitchen to the left, and a decent-sized bathroom with a walk-in shower. Our apartment, conveniently based in the city of London, isn’t flashy by any means, but near enough everywhere was ten-fifteen minutes away by train. I loved it, and I love living with my girls. If I didn’t get this job, I would have had to move back home with my mother and brother, and I didn’t want that. They are the only family I have. My parents brought me up in a strict household. They were very proud people, they valued traditions, respect, and culture above anything else, and they instilled those qualities into Sammy and me growing up.

“Yeah. I guess you won’t have to find another tenant to move into my room after all.” I tell them as I take my jacket off and drop it on the sofa.

“Don’t talk like that. Something will come—wait, did you say won’t have to?” Aimee mumbles, setting her bowl down. I smile, and their eyes go wide like saucers. “You got it. You got—YOU GOT THE JOB?!” I nod, they both scream and launch themselves at me, and we all tumble onto the sofa in a heap of arms and legs.

“I got the job! You’re stuck with me bitches!” I laugh when they both poke my sides tickling me until I’m crying with laughter.

Jo hops up onto her feet, “We’re going out tonight to celebrate. I don’t want to hear excuses. We’re going!” She says, running down the corridor toward her bedroom with her sock-clad feet sliding along the wooden floor. Aimee follows her, and I stay lying on the sofa, staring up at the plain white ceiling. The knot I have had in my stomach for months finally vanished.

“Bish, get your juicy arse off that sofa. We’re going to get smashed!” I hear Jo call out from her bedroom. Laughing, I get up from the sofa and come face to face with Aimee, who steps out of her bedroom. We both look at the bathroom door and back at each other before we make a run to it. I bump Aimee out of my way with my hip before I slide into the bathroom and close the door swiftly. I laugh when I hear her curse on the other side of the door.

“Every fucking time!”

“I do have longer legs than you, Aimes.” I tease while I strip off for the shower.

“Yes, and I hate you for it. Hurry up, and don’t forget to shave your hooch. You never know what the night might bring.” She sniggers, and I roll my eyes and grin as I step in the shower. “It’s about time you dust off those cobwebs and get some action, girl.”

“You know damn well that my hooch is waxed clean, and I’m quite content with my ‘cobwebs’ thank you very much.” I pick up an empty shampoo bottle and throw it against the door when I hear her cackling on the other side. “Get lost. Let me shower in peace.”

Many hours and too many bottles of prosecco later, we roll into a bar called ‘Luxe’ in central London. The girls forced me into wearing a red mini dress that hugs my natural curves nicely. My long dark hair curled loosely and left out. Jo and Aimee were also in dresses. Aimee chose a silver sequin dress that showed off her natural d-cup breasts, while Jo was in a strapless white bodycon dress. The atmosphere was something else, music playing at a loud volume, the bass of the song playing was vibrating through my entire body. We head over to the bar and order a round of tequila shots, and then another, followed by four more rounds of pornstar martinis. Jo kept her promise of getting us smashed for sure.

While I’m dancing with Jo, my eyes catch a pair of attractive yet startlingly vivid green eyes watching me. Damn. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His gaze on me is intense while he sips the amber liquid in his glass. He and his friends have girls swarming around them. I see a leggy blonde sitting beside him lean over and whisper something in his ear, his eyes narrow however they were still on me. Tearing my eyes away from his, I turn and continue dancing with Jo.

Aimee comes over to us with three shots of green apple sours. “Drink up, Bish!” We clink our glasses and take the shots. I wince when the liquid burns my insides. ‘Despacito’ starts thundering through the speakers. I’m laughing hard at Jo whispering something in my ear when I back up against something warm and firm. Jo’s eyes go wide when she sees whoever it is behind me. I give her a wary look, and she presses her lips together and smiles, backing away.

“Dance with me.” I hear a deep voice purr in my ear. I look back and see the guy that was watching me from the VIP section. My god, he’s even more beautiful up close, and his eyes are so green, clever and curious, glittering like two emeralds, like every hue of the forest. Their brightness reminds me of summertime. I turn and face him, craning my neck to look up at him. He’s tall, well over six-foot, light brown hair, cut short on the sides and longer on the top, styled perfectly. My fingers itch to reach out and touch it to see if it’s as soft as it seems. His features are strong, chiselled, and so very masculine.

“Was that a demand or a request?” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him.

His soft, full lips curl up into a smirk.

He licks his lips slowly, “Whichever one gets you to dance with me.” He drawls confidently. Someone tries to pass by him, so he takes a step closer to me.

I lift my eyes and smile at the handsome stranger whose strong arms lock around my waist, drawing me against him. We sway together to the music. His movement matches mine, and we move together smoothly. He can dance. I like that. He bows his head, and his lips brush against the shell of my ear as he speaks lowly, and I visibly quiver at the roguish tone of his voice.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Shayla. Yours?” I ask, and I could swear a look of surprise flashes across his handsome face before he grins sexily, and two deep dimples form on his cheeks making me swoon.

He has dimples! Two of them!

“Cole.” I smile up at him, and he drags his tongue along his bottom lip and squints his eyes a little while he looks over my face. We dance together, heatedly, for a while. Grinding, hands exploring. The heat between us is immense, the way his hands wander over my body, squeezing, caressing. Everything else fizzles away like it’s just the two of us. His eyes staring into mine fixedly.

“Hungry?”

I laugh and nod, “Starving.” He smiles and brushes a strand of my hair stuck to my sweaty face and tucks it delicately behind my ear.

“How about we go someplace and get something to eat?” I nod without hesitation, and he grins, taking my hand in his larger one, he pulls me through the crowd of people. I manage to catch Jo on my way out and gesture to her that I was leaving. She waves me off with a thumbs up. The girl is more smashed than I am.

We finally walk outside, and my head spins when fresh air hits me. Cole wraps his arm around my waist, steadying me. I follow him as we both stumble toward a silver Rolls Royce Phantom. The driver, an older gentleman, opens the door, and Cole places his hand on the small of my back and guides me in. I sink into the plush white leather seats once I slide over as Cole gets in beside me. “Wow. This car is bigger than my apartment.” I state with a drunken giggle as Cole pours us two glasses of champagne.

“What’s your stance on sushi? I know a great place.” I blink up at him, and he smiles at me charmingly.

“Sushi?” I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “Who in their right mind eats sushi when they’re drunk?” Cole laughs heartily. “Listen, I love sushi as much as the next person, but I’m not one of those girls who eat pretentious crap like caviar and sips Cristal. I can’t think of anything worse, especially right now.” I lean over and tap the driver on his shoulder. He glances back at me through his rear-view mirror. “Take us to Old Street, please, good sir.” He chuckles and nods his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I giggle, “Ma’am?” What am I fifty?

Cole tugs me back and shifts so he could face me properly. “What’s in Old Street?” I grin at him impishly and finish off my drink.

“The best food ever! No offence, but you strike me as one of those stuffy rich kids that think a good night out is sipping on Don Perignon and chewing on fish babies. I’m going to show you a night you’ll remember when you’re sitting in your rocking chair at eighty years old, Mr Cole.”

Cole chuckles and bites his lip, his green eyes alight with glee. “Oh? And will you be sitting beside me in that rocking chair?” He drawls, brushing his thumb along my jaw.

“That depends...” I whisper, smiling as he runs his fingers through my hair. “On what?” He whispers back, his eyes flickering down to my lips before they meet mine again.

“You’ll have to marry me to find out.” I tease, and he laughs before he draws my lips to his and kisses me softly. I moan when his tongue runs along my bottom lip silently requesting access, which I joyfully grant him; parting my lips, he seeks out my tongue and expertly deepens the kiss. If my mind was hazy before, it’s turned to complete mush after his kiss. As far as first kisses go, this makes the top of my list.

We spent the better half of the car journey kissing until his driver alerted us that we had arrived at our destination. “What is this place?” He asks as I pull him to the entrance of ‘The Breakfast Bar.’

“Oh, you poor, poor child. You haven’t lived until you’ve had their pancakes.” I say as we sit down, and he looks at the menu. I pluck the menu out of his hands, and he looks at me bemused. “You don’t need that,” I tell him, and he smiles and shakes his head. “We’ll have the sharers stack of pancakes, please, and two salted caramel lattes,” I order, and the girl smiles before taking the menus and disappearing.

Twenty minutes later, Cole licks his fork clean and slumps back in his chair with a delightful groan. “My god, that was heaven on a plate.” I nod triumphally, chewing on my last bite of pancakes.

“Mm, I know, right.” I moan, licking the cream off my finger. “You can thank me later,” I say with a wink, and Cole grins, reaching over and taking my right hand in his, gazing into my eyes for a long moment.

“You are the polar opposite to what I’m used to, but I don’t remember having this much fun with someone I just met. Ever.” He affirms, stroking his fingers over my knuckles gently. I feel my cheeks burn under his gaze and avert my eyes to my cup of coffee.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. We had a couple more cocktails with shots before we somehow wound up on a private airstrip. We clamber out of a private jet, laughing hard. We’d been playing a drinking game the entire flight, which wasn’t a good idea. “Vegas, baby!” I slur, throwing my hands up in the air and almost toppling over. I look around the dark airstrip and pout. “Wait. There’s no chapel here?”

I hear Cole laugh behind me before he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and kisses my cheek. “We can’t land in the middle of the Vegas strip, sweetheart,” He murmurs drunkenly. “We need to drive there.”

I giggle, “Hokay! Driver! Take us to Evlis to be wed.” I slur drunkenly. Cole and I stumble into the back of the black limo, and we head to the Las Vegas strip. I think we gambled for a while, drank delicious cocktails, and the last thing I remember was Cole carrying me out of a chapel, kissing like two lust- crazed adolescents.

Many hours later, I stir in my sleep with the blinding sunlight shining in my face. I groan and roll over, burying my face in the plush pillows. “Mm so soft,” I snuggle into the pillows further until I suddenly remember I don’t have plush soft pillows. My pillow is hard and lumpy. I peel my eyes open and groan at the sudden ache in my head.

Ow, water…I need water and possibly a new brain.

I force my eyes open and blink, looking up to the ceiling, I frown when I see a reflection of myself staring back at me in the bed, naked, wrapped in the sheets.

What on God’s green earth…

I sit up in the bed, and when I take in my surroundings it finally hits me. I’m not in my bedroom. I’m naked in a strange place with a hangover I’m sure is about to put me into an early grave. I lift the bedsheet and stare down at my very naked body under it. Yep, definitely naked. I groan and cover my face with my hand, freezing when I feel something cold and hard pressed against my nose. I pull my hand back slowly and stare at the enormous diamond ring sitting on my finger.

What the fuck… I wrap the sheet around my body as I clamber out of bed and take in the clothes scattered haphazardly all over the room. My heads whirls. “Oh my god, where the hell am I?” I pick up the black shirt off the floor and look at it before dropping it again. I walk over to the window and look out at the view, shielding my eyes from the brightness of the early sun. “This isn’t London.”

“Good morning,” I squeal and spin around when I hear a deep voice behind me. I look at the half-naked man standing before me in a pair of Dior boxers. I wrap the sheet around me tighter as I throw myself back up against the window. “You’re finally up.”

“Oh, good God.” I mutter stunned, and he winces, rubbing his forehead gingerly. He looks as rough as I feel, although a very beautiful man. Amidst my mini panic attack, I try desperately not to think about how God awful I must look to him right now. My hair is a tousled mess, and my make up from the night before is smeared, eyes rimmed red, lips still tinted red from the lipstick I wore.

“Actually, it’s just Cole.”

“Cole. Where the hell are we?”

“Vegas, I believe...”

Cole

Oh, sweet Jesus.

The ache in my head rouses me from my very peaceful slumber: that and the distinct smell of coconut and passionfruit. I shift to roll onto my side and frown when I feel a heaviness on my chest. I force my eyes open and wince from the sheer brightness of the sun beaming on my face. I glance down at the head of silky brown hair and get another waft of the coconut, passionfruit concoction. It’s her. I shift my head to the side and study the face of the girl currently sprawled across my chest. Not bad. I’ve woken up with worse. Her lips soft and pink, long dark lashes, perfectly shaped eyebrows.

What the hell happened last night? I can’t remember a damn thing. Who is this girl? I peel her arm away from my chest gently, detangle our legs, and she moans as I roll her off me, and she snuggles into the pillow with a sigh. I let my eyes wander over her naked body, half wrapped in the sheets while she’s sprawled out on her front, her long dark hair splayed out on the pillow. I take a closer look at her face and frown. Nope, don’t remember a fucking thing. Complete blackout. I look around the room. Our clothes littered haphazardly on the marble floor. Where the fuck are we? I pull my boxers on and walk over to the window. Why does the view look so familiar? Wait. Am I in fucking Vegas? I rub my hands over my face and look at the scenery ahead once again. Oh yeah, I'm in Vegas all right. I pick up my jeans off the floor and stuff my hands in the pockets hoping I’ll find some clue of what the hell went down. I pull out a piece of paper from my back pocket along with my passport and unfold it. It’s damp— come to think of it, so are my jeans.

‘Marriage Certificate.’

I stare at the words blankly for a long moment. No fucking way. I did not go and get married to a random girl. I read the rest of the document and curse. Oh fuck. ‘Marriage of Tristan Cole Hoult and Shayla Hart.’

If the certificate wasn’t enough proof, I had a gold wedding band on my finger. I lean closer and look at the girl in the bed, and she’s also wearing a diamond ring on her finger. We got married. We flew to Vegas and got married.

“Fuck.” I find my phone on the table by the bed and walk out of the room. I have to call my lawyer. I’m hoping— no praying this marriage isn't legal.

“Mr Hoult?” Franc—my lawyer's sleepy voice came from the other end. Of course, the time difference, it’s probably early hours there. "Everything okay?"

“Franc, apologies for waking you. Is marriage in Vegas legally binding?”

“Do you have a marriage certificate?” He responds. I snap a photo of the certificate and send it to him.

“I have something that looks like a marriage certificate. I’ve just sent you a photo. Take a look.”

I hear him fumble with his phone on the other end. “Well, yes, that's a formal document, so it’s legal, Mr Hoult.” He tells me and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. I stare at the certificate in my hand and sigh.

“Jesus Christ. I can't remember a damn thing after we left the club. It's completely blank. Surely there's a legal loophole to get me out of this? Please find it.”

“I’ll look into it. We’ll get the marriage annulled on the grounds of you both being intoxicated.” He says, and I nod pacing back and forth.

“Great. Keep me updated.” I say and end the call. What the fuck were you thinking marrying a girl you don’t even know, you absolute idiot. This is so unlike me. I don’t drink this much. Ever. Hell, I don’t even go out. My life is all about work, and when I do have time to blow off some steam, I have a couple of scotch’s then leave with whatever girl catches my attention that night. No, this is reckless and irresponsible, two things I most definitely am not. I’ve never gotten so drunk that I blackout and have no memory.

I turn around when I hear footsteps in the other room. I see Shayla wandering around the dining area of the penthouse, with a sheet wrapped around her body. A look of horror on her face as she tries to work out her surroundings. The first thing I notice about her was her eyes—a darker shade than my own. Almost olive green, lined with long dark lashes, not the fake kind girls wear, hers were natural. Her hair shiny and long cascading down her back in loose beach waves, albeit tousled from a night of wild sex.

I come up behind her and lean against the doorframe as she looks out the floor to ceiling window. “Good Morning.” I greet, and she jumps startled, lets out a little squeak, and turns to face me. Her eyes wide and confused, they rake over my topless torso and back up to my face again. “You’re finally awake.”

“Who are you?” She asks, backing up against the window. I sip my coffee and lick my lips. My head was still thumping unpleasantly and judging by the way she was rubbing her head. I’m going to assume she wasn’t feeling much better.

“I’m Cole.” I introduce myself, and she blinks up at me when I walk over to her. She averts her gaze from mine and wraps her arms around herself as if to shield herself away from my prying eyes, her fingers gripping the sheet tight.

“Um, where are we?” She questions glancing around the penthouse.

“Vegas, I believe.”

Shayla’s eyes go wide as she stares at me, unblinking for a good minute. She shakes her head and frowns deeply.

“Vegas?” She intones incredulously and I nod my head in response. “What the hell are we doing in Vegas?”

I shrug, “Beats me. I don’t remember a damn thing about last night. The only thing I recall was leaving the club with a girl. After that, it’s a blank. Do you remember anything?”

She shakes her head, “No, I-I don’t, I don't remember a thing. I was ludicrously drunk. I don’t even recall meeting you.” She explains chewing on her lip nervously. She drops her gaze from mine and brushes her slender fingers through her soft hair. “Um, why am I wearing a ring?”

I rub the back of my neck, and I hold up my hand and show her the wedding band on my finger. Her face falls. She looks down at the ring on her finger and then up at me again. “No, tell me we didn’t. Did we get married?" I nod and she blanches. "How the hell did this happen? How did we go from a club in London to getting married in Las Vegas?!”

I groan when an ache shoots through my skull at the volume of her tone. “Fuck, dial down the volume sweetheart; my brain is about to fall through my arse.” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Honestly, I don’t know how this happened or how we would up here, okay? I didn’t exactly plan to get in a drunken stupor and marry some stranger I met in a club.”

Shayla scowls at me, “Oh, well, it's a good thing you didn't. Imagine what would have happened if you did! Also, you’re not exactly my type.” It was my turn to glare at her. Is this girl for real? She doesn’t have any idea who I am. I’ve not met a girl whose type I’ve not been.

“Oh, is that right? I sure as hell seemed like your type last night.” I point out and her eyes narrow to slits, and she takes a step toward me.