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“Okay, calm down,” she said.
“Calm down?” I shouted, intensifying the pounding in my head. “Do you know what this will do to my company and career? You don’t have any clue!”
“You sell private insurance, Damien. I’m sure our marriage won’t affect your job.”
“I don’t sell private insurance!” I blurted out.
“But, you told me?—”
“I know what I told you, Willa. I lied! I’m the CEO of Blackwood Holdings in New York City.”
“Oh.” Her brows raised. “Why did you lie?”
“That isn’t important right now. What’s important is that we get dressed, go to this damn chapel, and find out what the hell happened last night.”
“Yeah. We should do that. Really? You’re the CEO of a company?” She cocked her head.
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes, went into the bathroom, climbed into the shower, placed my hands on the tile, and let the hot water stream down my back.
I could see and hear it clearly: my Uncle Kroy and the board reaching a unanimous decision regarding my future with the company. This would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, but nobody had to find out. We’d get the marriage annulled, and nobody would have been the wiser. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
I stared at Willa through the glass door as she stood at the sink, cleansing her face. What sucked was that I had sex with her last night and couldn’t remember a thing. At least I had enough sense to use condoms. I turned the shower off and climbed out, asking her to hand me a towel.
“Can you hand me a towel, please?”
“Sure.” She reached down and took one from the cabinet, staring at my manhood before I had a chance to wrap the towel around my waist.
“Nice package. Too bad I don’t remember it.” She smirked.
Why was she smirking? This situation wasn’t the least bit funny.
ChapterSix
Willa
After putting my hair into a ponytail, I grabbed my phone from my purse and noticed five missed calls and five text messages from Matt.
Where are you?
Why aren’t you answering your phone?
Jesus Christ, Willa. James and I are dying here, and now you have us worried.
You’ve either been kidnapped or murdered.
I’m calling the police.
“Shit,” I said.
“What?” Damien said, walking past me.
“My cousin Matt was blowing up my phone. He said he was calling the police. I have to call him.” I dialed his number, and he immediately answered.
“Oh my God. Are you okay? We’ve been so worried.”
“I’m hungover, but I’m fine. Please tell me you didn’t call the police, Matt.”
“I did, but they said you had to be missing for 24 hours before they’d do anything. Thank God you’re okay. What the hell, Willa? Where have you been?”