PROLOGUE: A SUBTLE FLASH OF GOLD
LANEY
The sun told me I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Or Seattle, as it were.
First of all, my hometown didn’t lose its typical cloud cover until after the Fourth of July, and considering it was mid-June, I suspected only the desert could bloom in shades of purple, mauve, and gold. There was no Toto to be found either, and certainly no Pita, the mostly feral orange tabby who frequented the alley behind my apartment.
Maybe it was the absence of a grumpy cat yowling for free food that made me remember that I was in Las Vegas and why. A weekend-long bachelorette party for my best friend, drunkenness and bad decisions worthy of Dionysus himself, all culminating in a sky-high hotel room that was…yep. Definitely not the one I checked into two days earlier.
For one, it was far too big.
For two, it had a view of the entire Las Vegas Strip.
For three, neither Megan nor the other women with whom I was sharing the cramped suite were anywhere to be seen.
Maybe I was still dreaming. I closed my eyes, but both of them reopened when I stretched and registered the fact that I was naked under the blissfully soft bedding.
Gingerly, I pulled up the sheet to check.
Yep, naked. And… sore. Thankfully alone, but no, not dreaming.
I looked around for my clothes. No sign of my dress, but there was a shoe wedged into a corner under an oversized armchair. No sign of the other strappy sandal I had borrowed from Megan.Ugh. She was going to kill me if I’d lost one of her beloved Louboutins.
I flopped back onto the bed, my hand falling over my brow along with anvil-esque pounding on my temples.
“Delaney Fisher,” I mumbled, “what in the world did you do last night?”
As if in response, something caught the light on my left hand. I held my hand up and out.
There, on my ring finger, an innocuous bit of gold gleamed in the bright morning sun.
“Oh,God.” Another torrent of minor blasphemy escaped my mouth as I turned my hand back and forth. “Oh, no, no,no.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the room and the ring to disappear.
No such luck. When I reopened them, both were firmly in place.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to will the memories of last night to come back. There was the hotel room where I’d gotten ready with Megan and the rest of the bridal party.
A loud club after I’d been dressed up like Vegas Barbie for Megan’s enjoyment.
A stranger in the dark, with untamed curls, a delicious smirk, and magical hands that toyed through silk and my tequila-soaked haze.
And after that…nothing.
“Delaney Fisher,” I stated to the ceiling as if it would talk back to me the way my mother had when I was a child, complete with her stern Greek accent and hand on her hip. “You will remember what happened this instant.”
The ceiling didn’t respond. And neither did my memory.
“Oh, God. What have I done?”
1
THE FIXER
RONAN