The tequila is definitely still working its magic, because this sounds ridiculous. Crazy. Utterly insane.
And yet… maybe insane is exactly what I need tonight.
I let out a breath and grin. “Screw it. Sign me up.”
The guy leans in a little. “Okay, here’s how it works,” he says, grinning. “You’ll start by meeting at least three different people, speed dating style. You won’t see them—there’s a screen between you. Just voices. You’ll get fifteen minutes with each one to ask whatever you want, get to know them a little.”
I cross my arms, tilting my head. “And if I hate them all?”
He chuckles. “You gotta talk to at least three. But if someone catches your attention, you can extend the session. Stay in there longer if you want.”
I nod slowly, curiosity piqued despite myself.
“Then, at the end of the speed dating round,” he continues, “if you and one person both choose each other, you get ninety minutes together in the pod. No distractions. Just the two of you.”
“Do I get to see him then?”
“No. Not until the end when you decide if you’ll stay together.”
“And after that? If we decide to stay together?” I ask, arching a brow.
He flashes another grin. “At the end of the ninety minutes, you’ve got options. You can get engaged, get married right here on the spot—Vegas, after all—or walk away. No strings, no pressure. But if you last the entire time in the pods, you both win a trip to a destination of your choice.”
I blink, processing.
I cannot believe I’m even considering this.
Me. Type A. Full-blown control freak. The high school senior who once cried in the nurse’s office because she had the flu and was about to ruin her perfect attendance record—one that dated all the way back to kindergarten.
This has to be the most idiotic, unhinged, out-of-character thing I’ve ever let myself eventhinkabout doing.
And yet… I find myself saying, “Alright. Let’s do it.”
Chapter one
Black Berries & Molasses
Eslin
One month ago in Las Vegas
A pack of young socialites teeters past, all long legs and designer smiles, clearly on the prowl for a high-roller to take home. I slip onto a barstool at Ink—thehottest, most exclusive hotel to hit the Vegas Strip. Where the lighting is low, the drinks cost more than rent, and no one here is trying to play it subtle.
I’m usually not the type to approach a man. Or make the first move.
But I’ve decided while I’m in Vegas, I’m going to be bold.Brave.
Because if there’s ever a place to rewrite the rules—the very rules I’ve spent a lifetime living meticulously by, the ones that kept me steady, safe, and striving just to make it to the life of my dreams…It’shere.
I take a seat at the far end of the bar, where there’s a guy nursing a drink like it’s whispering every secret it knows. He’s got that look—somewhere between lost puppy and down right lost. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Whatever it is, I’m curious.
“So, you get ditched by your friends too?”
The club hums with the kind of low thrum that’s more seduction than sound. Velvet booths. Gold lighting that makes the crowd gleam like they belong on a magazine cover. You don’t just wander into this place. You either know someone oraresomeone.
And this man looks like he checks both boxes.
He glances up, eyes catching mine. There’s a flicker of recognition there, but I’m certain we’ve never met.