Page 38

38

ALLISON

I wake up to the worst headache of my entire existence. A full-body regret kind of tequila-infested, what the actual hell happened last night level misery.

I groan, shift, and bury my face in the pillow.

Fuck. I need to take something before my skull explodes.

I lift my head, blinking at the nightstand. There’s a glass of water and some Advil beside a folded piece of paper.

What the hell?

I roll over with a wince, clutching my pounding head, then grab the Advil and down it with the water.

The fog slowly clears now that I’ve got some hydration in me.

Of course Connor left painkillers. Like he’s some sweet, thoughtful man instead of a deranged man with a god complex.

How am I supposed to stay mad at him when he’s so damn considerate?

I spot a piece of paper on the nightstand. Blowing out a breath, I brace myself and grab it.

I blink as I begin reading it.

Then I squint.

My heart flatlines.

My stomach roils.

I scan the words again. And again.

But they don’t change.

They launch me into a full-blown spiral as I read them aloud.

"Allison Payne agrees that she will NOT file for an annulment or divorce from Connor Byrns for a minimum of 90 days."

I stop breathing when I see my signature. It’s messy, but it’s definitely mine.

My head is still pounding, but I don’t even care.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD!

I signed a contract.

And I don’t even remember doing it.

The door swings open mid-panic attack.

My head snaps up. My eyes narrow into blades as I take in Connor fucking Byrns—smug and shirtless, holding two cups of coffee like he’s an angel instead of Satan in hockey skates.

He leans against the doorframe, practically vibrating with joy. “Morning, wife. Got you a coffee.”

I ignore the caffeine offering, despite how desperately I need it, and launch out of bed, shoving the paper in his face. “What the actual fuck is this?”

He sips his coffee, eying me over the rim like this is just another Wednesday.

“That’s our marriage contract, baby.”

I gape at him. “ Marriage contract?”

His grin widens. “You signed it.”

“ While I was drunk! ” I shriek.

He shrugs. “Vegas rules, baby.” Then he calmly pushes the coffee into my hand. “No buyer’s remorse.”

I blink down at the cup.

Then back up at him.

My body shakes from the sheer rage coursing through me.

I’m going to kill this man!

No—first, I’m going to shove this contract up his smug, perfectly toned ass.

Then I’ll murder him.

“Y-You…” My brain claws through the tequila haze. A memory flickers. “You lied to me.”

He arches a brow. “Did I, though?”

I screech and hurl the contract at his chest. “I’m not marrying you!”

Connor is unbothered. “Yeah, you are. No takesies-backsies, remember?”

I gasp. “The fuck I am!”

He steps closer. Calm. Smug. Shirtless.

And then he drops the bomb with a voice so smooth it belongs in a horror movie. “The wedding is in five hours, baby.”

My brain short-circuits.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.