“I thought her name was Maddy or something?” Sasha mutters with a smirk.
“Shut up, Sasha,” I snap, not taking my eyes off her.
“I’m not nervous,” Maddy says, chin lifting. But her hand’s trembling in mine. She still hasn’t let go. “I’m just—”
“Nervous,” I tease, giving her a smirk before bringing her hand to my mouth to kiss.
She bites back a grin. “Fine. A little nervous.”
The producer who’s been trailing us all evening walks over with a clipboard and a grin. “Are these your witnesses?”
“We didn’t see anything,” Sasha growls.
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “He means are you willing to stand up as witnesses to this shit show,” I clarify, giving the producer a look that sayssorry for my idiot friends.
Maddy leans in, close enough I catch a hint of tequila and something sweeter on her breath. But not before she lets out the softest, tiniest burp that makes me snort with laughter.
“Your friends are weird,” she whispers, her voice husky and amused.
“So I’ve been told,” I mutter back, and we follow the producer toward the chapel—if you can call it that.
My so-called groomsmen trail behind.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this! This is so not like me,” Maddy slurs, half-laughing, half-panicking as she stumbles slightly on the carpet.
“Oh yeah?” I glance at her, tightening my grip around her waist. I like that she’s leaning on me. “What’s making you do it? This…marrying me?”
She giggles. “Maybe it’s the tequila. Maybe it’s you.”
She says it like she’s guessing at the answer, like she might regret it later—or maybe never at all.
She doesn’t really know. But I don’t care.
Not when she’s standing here.
Not when I’ve got her hand in mine.
Not when the next words out of my mouth might beI do.
I’m about to be Mr. Maddy Mills.
Or however you say it in America.
***
The ceremony lasted all of five minutes. Barely enough time to process what we’d just done. There were vows, ring-like things, and the kind of forced smile from the officiant that screamedget out while you still have time.
By the time the ink dried and the cheap bouquet hit the floor, Sasha and Anton were already halfway to the blackjack tables, high-fiving.
Finally alone, me and Maddy lock eyes for a second—long enough to feel everything we’re both thinking but don’t say out loud.
No hesitation. No words.
We just move—fast—through the hallway, toward the private suite Xavier let me borrow for the week. Her heels dangle from her fingers, and the hem of her black dress catches the light with every step like it’s teasing me.
I think I know what comes next.
And she doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already made up my mind: If this is going to be a one-night story, I’m going to make it the kind that lives under her skin forever.