“Wait. You said you didn’t remember anything.” She says, pointing a finger in my face. I look at her finger and back at her again and roll my eyes.

“I don’t. But the state of the room, when I woke up this morning, was a very clear indication of a good night,” I take a step closer to her, and she cranes her neck to look up at me. “There was a trail of clothes from the door to the bed, which means we were too engrossed in our passion to give a damn about who was whom's type,” I state matter-of-factly and wink at her. “Not to mention you’re sporting my signature ‘fucked out’ look.”

Shayla’s green eyes grow wide, she huffs and takes a big step back putting some space between us. Raking her fingers through her hair, clearly frustrated.

“Wow. I’m not even going to dignify that remark with a response.” She stops pacing and looks at me again. “What are we going to do? Is this marriage even legal?”

“I’m afraid so.” Her shoulders slump, and she shakes her head.

“How? How did they even marry us while we were drunk? This makes no sense. Don't you need to apply for a marriage licence or something?” She questions, glaring at me. I shrug and set my cup of coffee down and take the marriage certificate off the table.

“That's the magic of this city. Anything can happen in Vegas. Here, I found this in my pocket this morning.” She takes the paper from me and unfolds it.

“What is this?”

“Our marriage certificate. Signed by us both, haphazardly.” I tell her, and she reads through the document before she looks at me.

“Oh my God, we’re actually married.” She mumbles, leaning against the dining table. I sigh and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. She looks upset, just staring at the floor and I don’t do well with consoling girls who are upset. I get uncomfortable and clam up.

“Hey, look, it’s not the end of the world. I'm sure we're not the first couple to drunkenly get married in Vegas. We’ll get an annulment and we’ll go on with our lives like it never happened.” I tell her, and she lifts her gaze to look at me, and I swear the sadness in her eyes sent a tremor through me.

She nods eventually and straightens, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” She sighs and looks around the room in bewilderment, then frowns a little, scratching her head awkwardly. “Uh,” She chews her bottom lip a little. “I can’t find my dress…” I let my eyes roam around the room. “I also need to figure out how the hell I’m going to get back home. ”

“Oh, I’ve sorted that. Our flight to London leaves in two hours.” I inform her, and she nods. “I’ve also arranged some clothes to be delivered for both of us. You look about a size ten. Coffee?” I ask, she stares at me, her mouth agape and nods before she sits on a chair at the dining table. I pour her a black coffee and set it down on the table in front of her.

She continues to stare at me, her brows knitted together. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. Please let me know how much I owe you, and I’ll pay you back.” She lifts the mug to her lips and takes a long sip, closes her eyes, and sighs Yeah, that first sip of coffee when you’re hungover is like heaven. I hadn’t noticed I was staring at her until she looks up at me and frowns.

I shake my head and shrug. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no problem. I’m sure you’d like to shower and refreshen up. I didn’t order breakfast, because I wasn’t sure what you would like to eat.” I tell her and disappear into the bathroom. “Why don’t you go ahead and order us some room service?” I suggest, and she blinks at me and nods hesitantly.

After a long, well-needed shower and a couple of business calls, Shayla and I ate breakfast to soak up the alcohol we consumed the night before. My stomach felt queasy, and the avocado toast I had helped settle it. Shayla showered and dressed in the clothes I had arranged for her. She came out of the bathroom looking refreshed in a pair of tight-fit light blue jeans, and a low-cut black tee. We left the hotel and made our way to the airport. Shayla gets out of the car as we pull up at my private jet and stares up at it. “Whoa, this is yours?” She asks as we walk over to it.

“Sure is, sweetheart,” I tell her and gesture for her to walk up the steps. I honestly cannot wait to get back home. I feel rough, and I have so much work I need to catch up on. I slide into a seat on the plane and watch as Shayla wanders around. She seems apprehensive, and I find myself wondering if she’s a nervous flyer. “You plan on standing there the entire ten hours of the flight? Take a seat. I won’t bite unless you ask.” I tease, and she shakes her head mumbles something under her breath and slides into a seat next to me, staring out of the window, her fingers fumbling in her lap while she nervously chews on her bottom lip.

I wish I could read her mind right now. There is something about this woman. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she’s different compared to the women I go for usually, and this is by far the longest I have spent with any girl I’ve slept with ever. I don’t even stay the night with them. I usually leave right after we get done doing the deed. Like my best friend Josh says, ‘You fuck and duck out.’ Sounds awful, I know, but I don’t have time for relationships, between my workload and the travelling I do, there is simply no time for a girlfriend or a social life of any sort. After my last relationship of three years crashed and burned a year ago, I’ve made work my priority.

I stir out of my sleep when I hear the captain's voice over the intercom. I must have fallen asleep while reading. Shayla was asleep with her head resting on my shoulder, her arm wrapped around my bicep. I can smell her shampoo again and it’s becoming my favourite smell. I brush a strand of her hair out of her face gently. She’s stunning, even without makeup.

As the wheels of the plane touch down on the tarmac, Shayla jolts awake and lifts those olive eyes, and looks up at me. It takes her a moment to realise her head was resting on my shoulder and she pulls away and sits upright brushing her fingers through her hair, and she clears her throat, looking around uneasily. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“A couple of hours.” She looks at me and frowns a little before leaning over and pulling her shoes on.

“I’m so sorry. You should have woken me.” I smile and shake my head, watching her as she straightens her top.

“Don’t sweat it. I was asleep too. We must have been more tired than we realised.” Shayla nods and rubs her neck as she walks through the plane toward the exit.

“Tell me about it. It’s been a hell of a weekend. Oh god, I've got work in the morning.” She says as we make our way down the steps of the plane. She stops suddenly and looks at the car and then back at me. “Did we use this car last night?”

I nod, and she blinks and looks at the car again. “We left the club in this last night.”

“Huh, I remember the car but nothing else.” She replies and looks at the driver and frowns. “Actually. I remember him, too.” Gerald smiles and nods curtly at her before he opens the door for her to get in.

“Evening Miss.” Shayla eyes him sceptically before she gets in the car. An hour later we pull up at the address she gave Gerald. She steps out of the car, and I follow her out and walk around the vehicle.

“Well, this is me.” She says, looking up at her building and back at me again. "Thank you for getting me back home."

“Don't mention it. Here, this is my card. My lawyer has already started drawing up the divorce papers. We’ll meet up in a few days, and you can sign it. Sound good?”

Shayla takes my card and looks at it, she looks at me and frowns. “Tristan? I thought your name was Cole?” She questions.

“It is. I prefer to be called Cole outside of work,” She nods satisfied with my answer, and tucks the card in her pocket. Wow, she genuinely doesn’t know who I am. That actually makes a nice change.

“Well. I guess I’ll wait to hear from you. I will text you my number,” I nod, and we look at each other awkwardly for a moment unsure of what to say or how to act. Do we shake hands or hug? She turns to walk away but stops suddenly, takes the ring off her finger, and hands it to me. “We’ve never met before, right?” She questions looking at my face, her eyes narrowed.

I shake my head and shrug. “I don’t think so. I would have definitely remembered meeting you.” I answer with a smirk, and she blinks up at me surprised, her cheeks turning pink. Oh fuck. If that isn’t the sexiest thing ever.

Shayla clears her throat and nods, "Thanks again."

I smile at her, “Thank you for an eventful weekend, Shayla Hart.” Shayla nods, mumbles a goodbye, and turns to walk away. “I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few days…wifey.” She stops, turns, and glares at me unamused.

“Don’t call me that.” I chuckle and watch her disappear into her apartment building. What an eventful forty-two hours.

Shayla

I jump awake when I hear my alarm chirping away on the bedside table next to me. I reach over and feel around for my phone; eyes still closed, I managed to find it and snooze the alarm. Ahh silence. Just as I’m about to doze off again, I remember it's my first day at my new job, and I jump out of bed excited. It was seven-forty-five, and I had to be there at nine o’clock. Satisfied I had enough time I drag myself to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I brush my teeth. Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and a weekend of heavy drinking had me looking like something out of the night of the living dead. After a steaming hot shower and two mugs of strong coffee, I was feeling a little better. I was trying to convince myself the fluttering around in my stomach wasn’t nerves. Why would I be nervous? I can do this job in my sleep. Ugh, butterflies explode in my stomach again at the thought of work.

I was applying my mascara when my bedroom door bursts open, and Jo walks in with Aimee in tow. I jump at the intrusion and get mascara all over my eyelid ruining my eyeshadow I spent a good ten minutes blending.

“Where in the seven kingdoms of HELL have you been?!” Jo hollers glaring at me, her eyes wide and hair tousled from sleep.

“Shayla we were worried sick! We thought something awful happened to you!” Aimee chastises me.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the bloody shit out of me. And you ruined my mascara!” I grumble annoyed, picking up a cue tip to remove the black blob on my eyelid.

“Stuff the mascara! Where the fuck have you been all weekend? We thought you brought that hot guy you left with back to the apartment, but you weren’t home.” Aimee explains walking over to sit on my bed. “Then we figured maybe you went back to his, and you’d be back Saturday, but you didn’t show up, and your phone was off.”

“Do you have any idea, how scared we were, that you were face down in a ditch somewhere,” Jo adds, placing her hands on her hips to illustrate her annoyance.

“You should have thought about that before you let me go off with a stranger. What the hell were you thinking letting me go off with some rando?”

“You seemed really into each other, and he was hot, so we thought you’d gone to get a little nookie,” Aimee says with a shrug and smirks. “Speaking of, how was the nookie? Must have been good if he didn’t let you leave all weekend.”

“Oh my god!” I pick up a brush and throw it at her which she dodges skilfully, and grins quite pleased with herself. “You know why I wasn’t back Saturday. Let me tell you why— because I was in Vegas.”

“Vegas?” They say in unison, and I nod. “As in Las Vegas…”

“Yes! Vegas, as in Nevada, Las Vegas!” Jo looks over at Aimee, who stares at me, her mouth agape. “I can’t remember a damn thing. I was so drunk I somehow ended up on a private jet flying to the fucking states.”

“With that guy?” Jo questions, a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Yes, with that guy,” I say, pulling my lacy black top on. “That’s not even the worst part, oh no, it gets better. We got married by Elvis. Like legally married.”

Silence.

They gape at me. “You…you got married?” Jo sputters, shaking her head. I nod and apply my lipstick.

“So, wait, let see if I got this right. You met a hot guy at a club, who flew you in his private jet to Las Vegas and married you?” I nod, and she chuckles in response and scratches her nose. “Tell me you at least putout?”

“Aimee!” I exclaim, rolling my eyes and hurl a bottle of primer at her; she falls on the bed and laughs heartily.

“Shayla. Who is this guy?” Jo asks, and I shrug. I pick up his card from the table and hand it to her.

“I don’t know who he is. All I know is his name, Tristan Cole something.”

Jo stares at the card, and her eyes grow wide. “Oh, my God. Shayla…” Jo gasps, staring at the card in her hand and looks at me. “Tristan Cole Hoult! That’s who you’re married to?”

“No fucking way!” Aimee howls, jumping to her feet and snatches the card from Jo. “I knew I recognised him! Oh my god. Shay, do you have any idea who this guy is?”

I shrug and shake my head, staring at the both of them in bemusement. “No, am I supposed to?”

“Um, yes!” They both shout together startling me.

“You of all people should know, Shayla! He’s a renowned architect and the man is also a billionaire! He’s the hottest and most sought after CEO in the country. Look, this is him, right?” She shows me a photo on her phone, and I nod.

I frown and look between them. My head was starting to hurt again. That’s why he looked familiar to me. I’ve seen him in magazines. Oh shit. “Yes, that’s him.”

“Oh my god, you lucky bitch!” Aimee hops up on my bed. “Not only did you sleep with him, but you’re also married to a billionaire, Shayla!” I roll my eyes and pick up my jacket. “I can’t believe it.”

“Jesus. I can’t deal with you two. I have to go to work. I don’t want to be late on my first day.”

“Don’t go. You’re rich now.” Aimee sings jumping on my bed and dancing.

“Aimee, get the hell off my bed! I just made it up.” I grab her leg; pull it, and she tumbles over and rolls off the bed.

“Ouch. I think you broke my arse.” She pouts, rubbing her behind gingerly.

“I have to go. I’m already running late. Fix my damn bed.” I say throwing my pillow at her head and walking out of the bedroom.

“Yes, Mrs Hoult,” Aimee calls out and giggles when I flip her off as I walk to the front door. I can’t even think about the whole Cole fiasco right now. My head was a scrambled mess, and I’m pretty sure I'm still a little drunk. I need to focus on my career if I ever want to make it as an architect. I can barely remember how to spell my name at the moment. I am never drinking again.

I make it to work with five minutes to spare. Please don’t ask me how fast I was driving to make it on time because I’m expecting a fair few speeding tickets in the post.

“Shayla.” I spin when I hear my name, and see the girl that greeted me the last time I came in. Heather, I think her name was.

“I’m Heather. If you’re ready, let me show you around first and then we can go through Mr Hoult’s schedule for the day.”

“Yes, of course. Sounds good.” I follow her through the glass doors, and we walk through an open plan office with several fancy cubicles, high-tech computers with two monitors that are for drawing your designs.

“So, this is your desk, and you already know where Mr Hoult’s office is.” I nod, smiling, my eyes taking in the office, as she continues to go on and on about his schedule. “He’s very peculiar and likes things a certain way. For example, he has his coffee black, with skimmed milk on the side, ready on his desk at seven-forty-five. He has a sesame bagel with smoked salmon, and fat-free cream cheese at eight o’clock every morning, religiously.”

“Got it.”

“Excellent. A little helpful advice, he works a lot, like around the clock. So, he’s often quite grumpy because he’s tired. If you see him loosening his tie, and rub his temples, it means he’s angry steer clear unless he calls for you. If he does— do not speak. I found nodding helps. Do not enter his office without knocking; wait for him to gesture you in. Understand?”

I look over at the empty office and gulp. Oh boy, this man sounds like a real headcase. It sure is going to be a hoot working for him. I follow Heather back to the open office. “Well, I think you’ve pretty much got the gist of the job. I’m sure you two will get along great. He should be out of his meeting shortly, and we can head over and introduce you to him.” Heather explains as we walk over to the kitchen area where the coffee machines and fridges stocked up with drinks and shelves stocked with snacks. At least they look after their employees.

I was enjoying my caramel latte and people watching when Heather came bouncing along. “He is out of his meeting. Let’s go and get you acquainted.” I nod and follow her through the office toward the CEO’s office. I was real baffled every time she said the words ‘introduce you’ like I hadn’t met him at the interview. Maybe she forgot.

We walk into the office I had my interview with the silver fox. The painting on the wall caught my eye, and I was admiring it when I just about noticed Heather say my name. “Mr Hoult, this your new executive assistant, Shayla.” I spin and look at him. Our eyes meet first. I let my gaze wander the length of him, and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach.

“You.”

“You?” I shake my head and look over at Heather and back at the six-foot-something man standing in front of me. “No. No, my boss was an older guy, you’re-”

Cole nods slowly. “You must have met my Father. Tony Hoult. He was interviewing for me whilst I was out of town on business.”

I stare at Cole and curse the fate that keeps screwing with me. “So, you’re my boss?”

Cole nods and fiddles with his cufflinks, his brows fused tightly. “It sure looks that way.”

“You’ve already met each other-”

“Heather, leave us.” He commands, his eyes never leaving mine and Heather scampers out of the office leaving us alone.

“This is a joke, right? Because this can’t be happening,” I mutter, pacing back and forth. “It can’t be.”

Cole rubs the back of his neck, watching me pace frantically, mumbling incoherently to myself like a lunatic. “Shayla, why don’t we sit?” He offers, and I shake my head.

“No. I can’t sit.” I reply, brushing my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I feel as though I’m inside a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.” I stop pacing and look at him. “Are you like …stalking me?”

He laughs—and I don’t just mean a chuckle, I mean a full-on belly laugh. “Stalking you?” He says in between breaths as I stand there and watch him unimpressed. “I should be asking you that question, sweetheart. You’re the one that keeps showing up everywhere. It can’t be a coincidence.”

I scowl at him and slap the folder in my hand on his desk somewhat hard. “Excuse me? Are you insinuating that I’m some psychotic fan girl or something?” I ask, taking a step toward him and he watches me closely. “I think you will find that it was you who approached me at the club,” I say poking his chest, and he smirks and arches a brow. “And it was also your idea to leave the club together,” I add, poking him again and his smile grows into a grin. “It was also you that kissed me, so please explain how I come off as the stalker here?” I finish, placing my hands at my hips and stare up at him expectantly.

Cole licks his lips and shrugs, “I was just kidding, but it’s nice to see you have a feisty side, sweetheart. I adore that in a wife.” I sigh and roll my eyes. I’m going to kill this boy.

“I’m not your wife.” I grouse heatedly. “Come to think of it; I’m not your assistant either. I quit.” I tell him and turn to leave, but Cole grabs my arm and stops me.

“Shayla, come on. I’m only teasing you. We can work this out, come and sit for a minute, will you, please?” I tug my arm out of his hold, walk over to his desk, and sit on one of the cream chairs opposite. Cole comes and stands in front of me, leaning on his desk, he crosses his arms over his chest and regards me seriously. “You don’t have to quit. We’re both adults. We can still work together.”

“How? How can we possibly work together after everything that has happened? We’re married, remember?” Cole shrugs.

“Yeah, so? Who here knows we’re married beside us? You’re overreacting. Besides, my father hired you for a reason, so you must be good at what you do.” I sigh heavily and shake my head.

“Overreacting? I married my damn boss. I went from being an assistant to the office slut who has slept with the CEO.” Cole straightens from his leaning position and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Shayla, you’re overthinking it. No one will find out what happened between us, I promise you.” He assures me, he seems genuine, but the nagging feeling I have at the pit of my stomach is making me feel uneasy.

“Fine,” I relented with a sigh. I narrow my eyes. “You must have thought I was a right dimwit for not knowing who you were. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought no such thing,” He smiles warmly. “If anything, it felt good to be treated like a normal human being rather than a--”

“Notorious playboy billionaire?” I finish, and he chuckles a little lowering his gaze to the black Louboutin leather shoes on his feet. “I go just a touch deeper than that, but yes. I may have liked that you didn’t seem fazed by the fact that I had money.”

“Why would I be? Just because you have money doesn’t make you better than anyone else. When cut, you still bleed red like the rest of us mere mortals.”

Our eyes meet; we stare at one another for a long moment. Cole smiles and shakes his head, seemingly pleased by my response. He walks around his desk and sits in his chair. “It’s almost lunchtime. Would you like to go out for lunch?”

“Lunch?” I intone, and he nods leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, we can go to the breakfast bar.” I groan and stand up. “We can share some pancakes.”

“I hate you,” I utter and turn to walk to the door. I hear Cole laugh behind me.

“Hey, what happens in Vegas...”

“Shut up.” I walk out of his office and look back to see him watching me with a grin on his face while shaking his head. The girls are going to have a fit when they hear about this.

I walk to the bathroom and dial Aimee’s number. She answers after two rings. “Yo ho, what’s up?”

“What’s up? Let me tell you what’s up. Remember that billionaire I accidentally married?”

“The hot billionaire, yes.”

“Well, that ‘hot billionaire’ is not only my dear husband…he’s also my new boss,” I tell her and hear her coughing and sputtering on the other end, clearly choking on something. “You dead?”

“I’m good. I’m okay. What do you mean he’s your boss?” She questions, clearing her throat.

“He’s my boss. The man that interviewed me was his Dad--Tony Hoult. How did I not connect the dots here Aimes? For fucksake. I’m a smart girl--at least I thought I was. I held his card in my hand, and it didn’t click. He probably thinks I’m a fucking idiot. Jesus, I’m mortified.” I mumble, closing the lid of the toilet and sitting on it.

“A lot has happened in the space of four days. My mind can’t cope with all this; I don’t know how you’re dealing with everything so calmly.” She says in an attempt to make me feel better.

“Calmly? I’m freaking out Aimee. I can’t work here. It’s too awkward working with him side by side day in, day out. I can’t do it. I’m going to quit.”

“Shayla, no. Don’t forget; you need this job. Remember how excited you were to finally be in a job that is in a field you’re interested in. This job will open all sorts of doors for you in the future. Just focus on your work, and I promise you in the end when you’re a kick-arse architect, it will all be worth it.” I nod and sigh. She was right. As much as the situation sucks, I need to stick it out as long as possible. “So what if you slept with him, he’s slept with dozens of girls. He clearly doesn’t care, why should you?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, he did promise what happened will stay between us.” I tell her.

“There you go. Just chill and enjoy your first day, it’s all going to be okay.” I sure hope she was right because I honestly can’t take much more. Knowing my luck, he’ll end up being my long-lost brother or something, on top of everything else. I shudder at the mere thought of it.

Heaven forbid.