Chapter 6

Nikolai...

My head is killing me.

What the hell happened last night?

At least I woke up in my hotel room, which makes me think I must have brought someone back. I really hope it was that girl from last night. But honestly, I have no idea what went down after I asked her to dance.

As I squint against the bright sunlight pouring into the room, making my headache worse, a pillow suddenly smacks me in the face. "Get up, you jerk!" a female voice shouts.

I quickly realize it’s the girl I danced with. "Did you just call me a jerk?" I ask, turning to look at her. She's still rocking that same dress from last night.

"And what are you gonna do about it, jerk?" she shoots back, giving me a fierce look. Wow, that look is both super attractive and a little terrifying.

It totally reminds me of the look my mom gives me when I mess up even when I am twenty six.

"You know, actually—”

“Can you explain how the shit I ended up in your hotel room? And why the fuck am I wearing a wedding ring?!” This girl really knows how to curse when she is mad.

Not that I'm complaining, since I tend to do the same when I'm angry.

As my eyes focus on the ring she's got on, it hits me that it's a wedding ring. The same one I bought just yesterday because my dad is making me marry some spoilt mafia princess to keep our family’s grip on the mafia.

I shake off my headache, jump up, and head over to a pile of papers I don’t even remember putting there before I went to the club.

I’m usually pretty organized, so I know where I keep my stuff. I grab the top sheet and see it’s a 'Marriage License.' No way this is real.

I keep reading, ‘This certificate and license is for the marriage and legal binding blah blah blah, and our signatures are on it too.’

Well, fuck me and call me George!

I must have been staring at the paper for too long because Cora, the girl from the club who I somehow just married, snatched it from my hands and started reading it. "We’re really married?!" she exclaimed, her voice booming.

"Could you say that a little louder, Cora?" I shot back sarcastically.

"We got fucking married?!" She yelled, throwing her hands up in disbelief.

You really don’t get sarcasm, do you, sunshine? Just kidding.

Cora hurls the paper back at me and starts pacing the hotel room like a caged animal. “Oh, I totally get sarcasm. I could hear yours from a mile away,” she says, rolling her eyes, which makes me laugh.

“Don’t laugh! How did this even happen? I can’t be married; I don’t even know you! Did we—”

“No, we didn’t. If we had, even in a blackout, I’d have made sure to use protection, and I bet it’s sitting in that trash can over there,” I say, pointing to the bin next to the bed.

“Ugh, gross!” She shoots me a look of disgust and rolls her eyes again.

“What? You can’t tell me you’ve never had a one-night stand?”

“Not a single one. I don’t have time for that,” Cora replies, plopping down in a chair and slipping her heels back on, looking absolutely stunning. “Plus, I’m a virgin, so that explains it,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Wait—you're a virgin?” I ask, genuinely surprised. How can someone as gorgeous as her not have had that experience?

“Is that a problem?” she asks, applying red lipstick.

“Nope,” I reply, my voice coming out a bit husky for some reason. “So, being twenty-one and a virgin?”

She turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “I saw your ID when I got up. But honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked if it’s fake and your name isn’t really Cora.”

Angela...

Oh man, you have no clue.

"You see things that aren't real. I'm Cora."

"Seriously? You totally give off gangsta vibes."

Crap.

How am I supposed to tell my parents I just married a total stranger? Where's my phone? Clio's probably freaking out about me right now.

I dig through my purse, grab my phone, and turn it on. It's at 60%—that's a surprise.

My sister has bombarded me with messages.

Did you go on a killing spree when you left last night? And my head is pounding. I can't even remember how I got back to our hotel room. Speaking of which, where did I crash last night?

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Almost noon, babe."

Great. Clio is going to lose it.

Angela, it's been three hours since I texted you, and you haven't replied. Call me.

Angela, please. I'm really worried.

I should text her back, even though she knows I can handle myself. I can tell she's genuinely concerned.

Clio, I'm fine. I think I'm in the same hotel but a few floors up. I might have made a massive mistake last night. I'm scared my double life is about to unravel.

“Sunshine. Cora. Cora. Cora!”

"Huh?" I reply, quickly wrapping up the text I was sending earlier.

I will tell you the details soon.

"I've been asking you the same thing for the last three minutes."

"Which thing?" I ask, tucking my phone away in my purse after making sure to conceal the gun and knife in a small pocket.

“Where are you headed?”

“What the hell is your name and how old are you?" I dodge his question.

He smirks and extends his hand. I place mine in his, and he lifts it to his lips, giving the back of my hand a gentle kiss.

"Nikolai Vasillios. Twenty-six and the head of The Vasillios Mafia."

My eyes widen a bit at the mention of ‘The Vasillios Mafia.’ Please tell me I didn’t just drunkenly marry a mafia boss.

"You just made my life easier because I've been instructed to find someone to marry—"

So you go and marry an assassin and underground fighter who took out someone for you just two days ago. Who am I kidding? He has no clue; he just got hitched to the Angel of Death.

"So my father doesn’t reclaim the mafia, and you, Sunshine, have made my task a lot simpler. Now, shall we sit down and discuss what it means to be my wife?"

No thanks. I need to figure out how to get a divorce because if he’s the one after my parents, who knows what could happen to them? I can’t let anything happen to my parents or sister.

I’m in serious trouble.