4

I knew I was entering the danger zone when the texts wouldn't stop coming.

Bea: Talk to me. What's going on?

Carlos: Please, Mina, you didn't let me explain.

Mom: Are you ever coming out of your room?

Bea: Mom's worried. Come on, you can talk to me. I promise whatever it is will stay between us. You're not pregnant, right? If you are, I will totally be there for you and the little nugget.

Carlos: I didn't mean to sound like I didn't like you. I did. There's just a different spark with Charlotte.

Bea: I love you. You know that, right?

Mom: At least eat something. I left food outside your door.

Flynn: Why am I getting calls from our parents about you?

Courtney: Are you okay?

I knew they were getting desperate when they got my sister-in-law to chime in with a text. We barely knew one another though. I wasn't sure why they thought I'd open up to her, of all people. Not that she was a bad person, just someone I didn't really know.

Bea: If you don't answer me, I'm coming over there and breaking the door down. Okay, I won't break it down, but I'll get my awesome husband to do it for me. Then Dad will be angry because he'll have to buy a new one.

Mom: I'm worried.

Carlos: Please, talk to me, Mina. I should have told you from the beginning, when I met her. I'm sorry.

Carlos: I told Charlotte. She left me. It was the right thing to do. I honestly don't know who I miss more though. You or her. Please, talk to me.

I blocked Carlos after that text. It was like he was a living symptom of everything that was wrong with the world. Were people even capable of being faithful anymore?

Unknown Number: Your dad gave me your number and told me to fix whatever I broke.

Okay, that one was intriguing, and finally something worth responding to.

Mina to Unknown Number: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Tucker.

Mina to Unknown Number: Tucker?

Tucker: Samuel Brighton Tucker – your fiancé, remember me?

Mina: You were never my fiancé.

Tucker: You wound me. Seriously, I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you stop speaking to your family.

Mina: You have one hell of an ego to match your disgusting lifestyle. You did nothing that affected me.

Tucker: Then why are you playing the sulky teenager card with your family? You know I'm taking the blame for it anyway, right?

Mina: It has nothing to do with you. Sorry, I'll let them know to leave you alone. Why do you call yourself Tucker?

Tucker: My friends call me that. My grandfather is Samuel. I hate Sam because people always go babyish with it and end up calling me Sammy.

I giggled because I'd definitely called him Sammy-boy in my head more times that I cared to remember.

Mina: Okay.

Tucker: Okay? What does that mean?

Mina: Okay, I won't call you Sam or Sammy.

Tucker: So, what's going on with you?

Mina: Nothing.

Tucker: Nothing as a response usually means something.

I didn't know why I felt compelled to even answer him. Maybe it was because we didn't really know each other, and it felt safe in a way. I already knew what he thought of me. He had been one of the few people in my life to be honest about it. In truth, that was probably why I decided to go ahead and spill part of my problems at his feet.

Mina: A person I trusted recently proved once again why I hate people.

Tucker: Obviously not me, since you never trusted me.

Mina: I told you it wasn't about you.

Tucker: So, is now a bad time to ask if you've thought things over yet?

Mina: Thought things over?

Tucker: Yeah, about getting married. I promise that I am cleaning up my public act. No more outings and indecent, exposed flings with people. No pictures and I'm having someone clean up what's already out there.

Mina: You can never truly have people clean up what's out there. There are already screenshots of everything, as I proved in our meeting.

Tucker: Well, I'm doing my best here.

Mina: Why?

Tucker: Why am I doing my best? Figured it was the only way to get you to agree to this.

Mina: Why me? Why are you agreeable now?

Tucker: I told you already.

Right. He had, but honestly, the majority of the conversation I had with the man was lost to me after what he said about me not being his type and then the Carlos and Charlotte incident. Truthfully, I hadn't thought about Tucker at all outside of him being one of the reasons my self-worth had taken second position to my all-time low. I didn't think there was anything that could ever top the first slot in making me feel worthless and ugly. Then again, at least he had been honest about it. He could have lied, fed me false hope the way my father had, and allowed me to enter into a situation where my eyes weren't as wide open as they needed to be.

I glanced at my laptop, the one where the dark and dirty story I'd been working on had turned into a sad sap, poor me, cry-fest. Then I glanced back toward the phone in my hand. I gulped in a huge lungful of air and blew it out slowly. Was I really considering this, after everything, and knowing how he felt about me? That little voice of doubt inside my head told me it was probably the best I could do. Damn it, I believed the voice. Before I could talk myself out of it, my fingers typed out my answer and hit send.

Mina: Fine. You, me, Vegas weekend. Strangers for witnesses. If I'm getting fake married, I need it to feel just as fake, even if the law says otherwise. No bullshit. No frills. Just "I do" and then we're done.

Tucker: Are you sure?

Mina: You mean to tell me you want a big church wedding with both of our families and about 600 guests we don't give a shit about to watch us lie to one another?

Tucker: No, but I thought you'd want that. Don't all women want the huge wedding?

Tears fell from my eyes, dripping onto the hands that shook as they held my cell phone in a horrible grip. I had never wanted a huge, ostentatious wedding, but I used to dream of something that was special and entirely mine. I even had a wedding book, one I'd made when I was younger, that had all the things I wanted for my own nuptials one day. It was hidden away in the back of my closet now, probably collecting dust along with the idea of a special wedding to someone I didn't have to lie to and who actually wanted me for me.

Tucker: Did you change your mind again?

Mina: As you already pointed out before, I'm not most women, and no, I don't want a huge wedding.

Tucker: I never said that.

Mina: Close enough. Let me know when you have a couple of days free to get this done.

Tucker: There are other things to work out too.

Mina: Like?

Tucker: The prenup. Where we're going to live, because we will have to put up that front to everyone, even if we're not really living as husband and wife behind closed doors.

Right. Because God forbid the man that I marry might actually want to fuck me, ever. The tears kept coming as I stared at the blurry words before me.

Mina: I honestly don't give a shit. Pick a date. Pick a place. As long as I get to finish school this semester, that's all I care about.

Tucker: School won't be a problem, I promise.

Mina: Also, make sure your lawyer keeps the paperwork simple. I don't want to spend two weeks trying to read through a bunch of legal bullshit.

Tucker: You got it.

Mina: Great. When he's done, send it to my dad's lawyer for approval, then I'll sign, and we'll get the rest done before anyone can plan a thing.

Tucker: I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why are you doing this?

Mina: Life is short, why not fuck it up with my first marriage?

Tucker: Seriously, are you okay?

Mina: Peachy. You're supposed to be conversing with your lawyer now, not me. Go. Get shit done. All I want to have to do is sign my name on the paperwork, say "I do" and not much else. This is everyone else's ballgame; I'm basically just the hotdog being tossed from one dude to another as a transaction.

Tucker: Hot dog is probably not the best analogy.

Mina: The soda then?

Tucker: You have to suck a soda through a straw, so no.

I chuckled at the fact that he was turning everything into innuendo instead of allowing me to just basically bash myself. At least he would be worth a laugh now and then.

Mina: Okay then, I'll just be the napkin cleaning up everyone else's messes and then tossed aside when I'm no longer useful. Actually, that's pretty accurate.

Tucker: Mina!?

Mina: You have shit to do. Leave me alone now before I change my mind again.

A few hours later, my father knocked on my door. There was no avoiding him today though. He used whatever master key he had for the house and unlocked it too, after making sure to announce that he was coming in. It was fine though. I'd been sort of expecting this visit, so I was cleaned up, face full of makeup to hide the fact that I'd been crying so much, and my fake smile was lodged firmly in place on my face.

"Mina, honey," he held up a smallish stack of papers in front of him. "Bart just sent these and asked me to go over them with you. He said everything looked good as far as he was concerned and if you want anything changed to let him know first, and he'll fix them before you sign."

"Okay," I managed to get out without sounding weird. I stood from where I'd been sitting at my desk and pretending to type. I held out my hand to take the papers, but my dad pulled them back towards his chest, almost as if he were guarding them.

"I thought you didn't want to go through with this?"

I shrugged my shoulders and sat back down. "I decided that it wouldn't be the end of the world and this way, you get to see your company go on to great things."

"Mina, I was wrong to ask this of you," he sat on the edge of my bed, which was the closest place he could get to where I now stood by my desk chair.

"It's fine," I promised.

"No, I don't think it is." He shook his head. "I was so busy pushing for this merger, and the wedding to happen, that I never bothered to look into the man I was tying you to. You were right to check up on him, and those photos you had to look through. Mina, I don't want this for you. You're my baby girl. I would never forgive myself if you were trapped in an unhappy marriage just to make sure my life's work didn't get sold off for scraps."

"Daddy," I said, reverting to a name I hadn't used for my father in probably ten years. "I love you. This isn't just about your business. It's about me too. It will give me a chance to establish my own career without having to be a burden on you and Mom or having to work a day job."

"Sweetheart, you know you won't have to work a day job anyway. You'll get your inheritance as soon as you graduate and be fine."

I laughed. "That's not the point. The inheritance I'm getting is small potatoes compared to what Flynn got. I'm going to invest it so it grows and will hopefully keep me comfortable in my retirement years. I'm going to have a lot of cats to feed by then," I joked. To be honest, I think the joke went over my father's head. It was probably for the best though. I held out my hand. "Now, let me see those papers so I can make sure the lawyers involved didn't write a bunch of stupid stuff that's entirely unnecessary."

My father laughed at me. "You know, I'm so glad I raised a girl wise enough to call them out on that. They really do write a ridiculous amount of nonsense into those contracts."

I glanced through the pages, there were nine in all. Any money, funds, inheritance, and property owned by each person would remain solely theirs upon divorce. Money made by each individual during the marriage would also remain theirs, see exceptions, yadda, yadda. Spousal support and/or a settlement amount would be factored in cases of harm befalling a spouse from another. I didn't realize spousal abuse would be covered, so I guess that was good to know. If children were produced during the marriage, child support would be based around custody arrangements provided via court decree.

That wouldn't be an issue, since I wasn't Tucker's type at all. I continued scanning the document. Wow, there was a provision for children that might be produced during the marriage, but with other partners. That was a little gross, but considering the circumstance, I supposed it was necessary. Those children would be provided for only by the biological parent. There were percentages of my father's business that I would get as well as other various contingencies.

It all seemed to be in order and there was nothing I found missing. No matter what, I would be financially capable of taking care of myself when the sham of a marriage finally came to a close, which it was bound to do. I picked up a pen, ready to sign my name, initial, and date in all the appropriate places. My father's hand stayed my own before I could get started though.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"

I nodded my head, brushed his hand aside, and signed my life away. Then I had my father take them back to the courier who had been waiting for me to finish. I supposed his lawyer didn't want to leave anything to chance by not being prepared. He also, I noted, did not want to be here in person. I assumed that was because he disliked our last meeting. Oh freaking well.

Mina: Prenup signed, headed back to lawyer now. Should come your way next. Did you have dates for me?

It took three hours for him to answer my text. I didn't even want to know why. Instead, I worried about packing an overnight bag for what would be our impromptu wedding trip to Vegas. Once I finished that, took a shower, and climbed in bed, my phone chimed with an incoming text alert. I took my time reaching to grab the phone off my nightstand. Once I had it in my hands, I took a deep breath and then glanced down at the text that awaited me.

Tucker: Does tomorrow work for you? I know you're technically on spring break right now.

He wasn't wrong, though I didn't know how he knew that. I had never told him which University I attended, and they didn't all go on spring break at the same time.

Mina: I am, indeed. Already packed. Pick me up whenever.

Tucker: Are you positive that you want to do this?

Mina: Already signed the paperwork, so I guess so.

Tucker: We aren't married yet.

Mina: I think the question is, are you sure? Is your empire worth having to marry me?

Tucker: What kind of question is that?

Mina: The one you need to be able to answer before you say, 'I do'. Good night, see you tomorrow.

There was no way I was going to spell that one out for him. I figure deflection should work since he didn't really give two shits about me anyway. I turned my phone off, set it on the nightstand again, and closed my eyes. I'd like to say peaceful sleep found me, but I'd be lying.

I tossed, turned, got up, wrote a few thousand words, attempted sleep again, and finally managed to get about three hours in before there was a knock on my door. "Yes?" I called out.

"Mina, there's someone here for you," my mom called through the door. Perfect timing then. That meant my dad was off to work and wouldn't be here to ask questions.

"Be right there," I informed her before gathering up the bag I'd already packed. It was nothing more than an oversized laptop bag, so it would just look like I was taking my normal school bag with me somewhere and wouldn't trip any parental red flags. Granted, I was nearly 21-years old, but when dodging your parents to go marry a man who didn't actually want to marry you, things got a little tricky.

By the time I got downstairs, my mother managed to procure a drink for Tucker and was regaling him with an embarrassing tale about the time I painted the walls with my own shit as a toddler. I didn't know whether to be appalled or thank her. Maybe she would scare him off and I wouldn't actually have to go through with this whole mess.

To say I was having second, third, and more thoughts about marrying Tucker was an understatement. Still, I knew why I'd said yes, and despite my many misgivings about him, I was still going to follow through with this plan. It would save me a lot of heartache in the future. At least this way, I already knew exactly what I was getting. I would take the name of a man who would never love me, we would probably never have children that belonged to the two of us, and one day, he would get fed up with the farce and leave me when he found his perfect woman and fell in love with her. I had until then before I had to worry about what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life, because it was obvious that I couldn't be trusted to make good decisions about who to believe in this world.

"Are you ready?" I asked in an effort to get Tucker away from my mother.

"Don't be rude, Mina. Samuel and I were just getting to know one another."

"No, Mother, it sounded like you were telling embarrassing stories of me playing in my own shit," I admonished. Tucker chuckled as my mother tutted my response away.

"Language, Mina!" She sighed, as if she was so put out. "Why can't you be more mindful of the things you say, like Bea is?" I wouldn't acknowledge the awful tug at my heart over being compared to my perfect sister. It was inevitable. People always compared us. "Night and day, those two," was one of the phrases that had been lobbed on us since I could remember. Guess who was the dark, 'night' part of that equation, and who was the bright, 'day'. You'd think the golden blond with the angelic eyes and the tiny stature would be 'day', but you'd be wrong. That belonged to the dark haired, curvy, goddess who never cussed and only did one slightly questionable thing in her entire life.

She married her best friend on the day she was supposed to marry her fiancé instead. Yep, I know, it sounds bad, but her fiancé stood her up and left a letter behind telling her he was interested in someone else. Bea's best friend, Ky, made sure that my sister had a good memory on what was supposed to be her wedding day. It wasn't legal, but they made it so eventually. Still, people remember that whole fiasco as something cute and tender.

I shrugged off the comparison, yet again, and flung my backpack over my shoulder. Instead of trying to pry Tucker away from my mother, I simply left and waited outside for him. When he finally realized I wasn't coming back, twenty damn minutes later, he came looking for me.

"Have you been sitting out here on the steps the whole time?"

"Yep, are you finally ready to go?" I asked the question as I stood and brushed any possible dirt from the ass of my jeans. When I glanced up, his eyes were shielded by aviator sunglasses, but the corners of his mouth were dipped down in a frown.

"I was in there this whole time thinking you'd just gone to go get the rest of your things," he admitted.

"So, you weren't going to be a gentleman and help me down with my luggage?" I asked in mock outrage.

He actually blushed a little at that. Good to know he could at least be shamed or embarrassed by something he did – or in this case didn't do. "Sorry, I didn't think…"

Again, I offered up a halfhearted, apathetic shrug and moved to head toward the Audi parked in front of us. "I'm assuming this is your ride?"

"It is, but seriously, where are the rest of your things? Do you need me to help get it down here?"

I turned and grinned at him. "Nope." I patted my bag. "This is it for me."

His mouth opened and closed a couple times, as if he was about to say something and then the sound wouldn't come out. Finally, he was able to speak and managed to get close enough to whisper. "We're going to Vegas for a couple of days and getting married. You don't have more than this one bag to bring with you?"

"I'm all set," was my only response. To be honest, I had a dress, one change of clothes, and something to sleep in. I figured if I needed anything else, I could get it there and leave it where I found it, along with all the memories of my impending sad, sad nuptials.

"You're a very interesting girl," he commented as we both tucked into the car. I noted that he thought of me as a 'girl' not a 'woman'. Figures. It felt like one more hit to my already fragile ego. Oddly enough, those hits stopped feeling so bad though. It was as if I'd gone numb somewhere along the line. Maybe it was when Carlos inadvertently put things into perspective for me. Not that it mattered. I had a plan, and I was going to stick to it. I'd be married for a few years to a man who didn't give a rat's ass whether I was alive or dead.

During that time, I'd write a ton of books, they would all be a giant success, and maybe I'd even get a movie deal. Hell, maybe I could use my success as a reason to file for divorce. I'd have to move to be closer to the film production, or some other nonsense and we just couldn't make it through the time away from one another. It sounded plausible, right?

"Have you ever been to Vegas before?" Tucker asked when we were nearing the airport. I turned to him, taking in his overall appearance for the first time. He had put forth a little effort. His face was clean shaven, suit was actually pressed and laundered, and his hair was slicked back in a tidy style. His brown locks were kept short all over, and while the top was slightly longer, and looked better as a tousled bed-head look, in my opinion, it too had been tamed for the occasion.

I didn't answer his question though and instead, hoisted my bag into my lap. Next to him, I looked like a bum. I'd worn comfortable jeans that were super soft because they'd worn so thin due to wash and wear cycles. Sandals graced my feet, and they were nearly flat, which meant I looked even shorter than when I wore tennis shoes, and definitely smaller than when I was in heels. My t-shirt was an old Dodgers shirt I stole from one of my friend's brothers when we were in high school. It was incredibly comfy and also a reminder that the men I crushed on never reciprocated those feelings.

Jesus, I needed to get out of this sad sack mentality, I just wasn't sure how to manage it. Once we parked, I took a picture of where the car was, because it never failed, I always forgot where I parked in parking structures or airport long-term. Tucker laughed.

"Afraid we won't be able to find it again?"

"You never know," I admitted. "Sometimes, we slip into a parallel dimension and need proof that we weren't actually parked on B-7 and instead were on G-4 the whole time."

Tucker just grinned at me. "You're kind of weird, you know that right?"

"Be thankful."

"Why is that?"

"Only a weird girl would agree to this fiasco," I commented and that was the end of our conversation all the way until we arrived in Las Vegas five hours later. Once again, my phone had blown up by the time I got there.

Bea: I know you called, and we talked, but I think you might have left a bunch of stuff out. Dad says you signed a prenup, and you're marrying this guy. What's going on? I thought we decided he was a man-ho?

Man-ho was as close as my sister would come to calling him out for being the dirty little slut-boy he was. Not that there was anything wrong with a healthy sexual appetite. Just that, when you were supposed to be marrying someone, image was everything.

Flynn: Dad claims you're still going to go through with this and marry that Tucker dude. Do I need to beat his ass? The guy, not Dad.

Bea: Where are you? I tried to find you, but your phone's been off.

That was a good reminder. I made sure to turn off the find your friend thingy on my phone so no one could accidentally get wind that my wedding was impending any moment now.

Mom: Did I do something wrong? You didn't even say goodbye. Where are you going anyway? Was he taking you to school?

That was my mom for you. She didn't even remember that I was in the middle of my spring break. I loved her, and I knew she loved me, but I was not the offspring of hers that she tended to keep track of, unless someone reminded her to do it. I often joked that Bea was the favorite child and Flynn was the runner up. Where did that leave me? It almost always left me as an afterthought.

Dad: Where are you?

Bea: Um, is there something you want to tell me? Dad called here looking for you.

Mom: Okay, now I'm worried. No one seems to know where you are and when your dad called the Tuckers they didn't know where Samuel was either.

Dad: Mina, please, let me know you're okay.

"Let me guess, your family is looking for you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Well, I've got a bunch of texts wanting to know where I am and if you're with me because I picked you up and now your family is worried."

"They should be, you don't seem like a very responsible adult to me."

He stared at me for a moment and then laughed. "Aren't you an adult too? Why can't you be the responsible one?"

"Because I'm tiny, so everyone treats me like a girl instead, so why bother being responsible or an adult?" Yeah, okay, I was still mad that he called me a girl earlier instead of a woman. I had "small girl syndrome" so sue me. Instead of dealing with my whole family one-by-one, I sent a mass family text.

Mina: I'm fine. Taking a couple days to hang out away from the family. Will let you know when I'm back.

"Okay, so where to?" I asked once we managed to get his checked luggage from baggage claim. It was weird that the man was the one with the suitcase and carryon while I was the light packer.

"I booked us a suite at the Venetian."

"Great, let's go, I'm starving."

"We can stop somewhere, if you'd like."

"Nah, it's fine. I can grab something there and then we can do whatever is necessary to get everything taken care of."

"I feel like I need to ask this again," Tucker told me as we got into an Uber headed to the hotel. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

I stopped fiddling with my backpack long enough to turn and really look at him. "Do you want me to back out?"

"No, of course not. There's too much riding on this happening."

"Then stop asking."

"Okay then."

"Okay then," I repeated. I was getting moodier as the day wore on. "Sorry if I'm cranky. I get mean when I'm hungry."

"Noted." The rest of our ride and check in at the gorgeous Venetian was done in relative quiet. When Tucker had mentioned a suite, I honestly had no idea what he meant. I'd stayed in hotels before, and my family was obviously wealthy, but this went above and beyond even what I'd experienced in my life. The suite was huge and ridiculously opulent. I wandered around the whole place, noting that the two bedrooms were on opposite ends. One contained a king size bed while the other had two queen beds in it. I figured that I would take that room since I wasn't the one who paid for the place.

I set my bag down on one of the beds and moved to glance out the window when Tucker finally found me. "I meant for you to take the other bedroom," he offered.

"This is fine. Your money, you should get the better room."

He seemed a bit nervous as he spoke. "This one is closer to the door, so I won't disturb you when I come and go," he admitted. Suddenly, I wondered if my honeymoon would be spent having to deal with him bringing other women back to the same hotel suite that he shared with me. That would be just a little bit awful and disrespectful, no matter what our arrangement and understanding was.

"So that you can come and go?"

"I know you said that you just wanted strangers as witnesses, but honestly, that won't fly for my family so Wesley, my lawyer and best friend, will be coming too. He had to take a later flight out because of work, but he and I will take this room since there are two beds."

I turned to give him my full attention, ready to argue the absurdity of us getting married and staying in the same suite with his best friend. Then I thought better of it. What did it really matter in the big scheme of things? We would be married in name only.

I picked up my bag and moved to vacate the room before remembering that I didn't know exactly when we would be making everything official. "Have you planned when we will have the official ceremony?"

"Tomorrow. Wes and I are having a bachelor's night out tonight." I rolled my eyes at the cliché bachelor's night bullshit. It wasn't like he needed a last night out as a single guy since he didn't plan on remaining faithful to me behind the scenes. "This whole thing has to appear believable, right? With the way I've behaved of late, it would be expected, and everyone would probably call bullshit on this wedding if I never bothered to indulge in a bachelor party of any kind."

"Can you at least try to keep the worst of it out of the public eye? I get that you don't actually give two shits about me or the marriage we're signing on for, but at least respect the fact that I'm helping you out here and try not to make me look like more of a fool than I already do for marrying you."

I honestly don't know if he had a reaction to my ask because I left the room, headed for my own after bypassing the living and dining areas, and then promptly picked up the phone to order room service. Part of me wanted to go explore Sin City since I'd never been there before, but the other part of me – the one that would be doing it alone – decided that sitting in the opulent hotel room with room service and a movie was probably the better idea.

That was the plan, right up until a knock on my bedroom door changed things for me. "Yes?"

The door opened and my future husband stood there looking all kinds of wonderful in a pair of charcoal gray dress slacks and a midnight blue button up shirt that looked like it would feel exquisite under my fingertips. Tucker looked every bit the playboy he was.

What a shame that I'd be married to all that and unable to sample the product because he thought I was basically a troll doll. His friend, Wesley, stood just beyond him in the distance, eyes locked on me. He had joked that he would marry me instead, back when we were in his office discussing his friend's lack of impulse control. The heat in his gaze made me wonder if he hadn't been telling the truth, or at least an embellishment of it. Then I remembered what I was wearing. I had taken my pants off, to get comfy for my night of movie watching and binging on yummy foods thanks to room service. The only thing I was wearing happened to be a t-shirt that barely covered my lap area and some panties I hoped weren't visible.

Tucker cleared his throat to get my attention back on him. "We're about to head out for the night. We'll try to be quiet when we come back." The last was muttered as he glanced away, making me think that they wouldn't be coming back alone. Gross. Tucker's head flew forward just a little bit when Wes's hand made contact with it.

"We'll be quiet, or get another room if need be," Wes announced. Truthfully, that admission didn't make me feel any better.

"I'm not your fucking babysitter," I announced, unable to hold back some of the hostility I felt at being rejected yet again in life. "Do whatever the hell it is you please. Leave me a key to the room in case I decide to go out." I glanced at my bag, as an excuse for why I might need to leave, even though I shouldn't need one. "I didn't exactly bring much with me, so I might go grab something for tomorrow."

Tucker peeled a card out of his wallet and sat it down on the table beside the bed. "Be careful if you go anywhere. This isn't exactly the town where a single girl should be wandering around alone."

"You might have thought about that when you invited a friend along to play with you, but didn't give me the same option," I suggested. When he just stared at me as if I had two heads I tacked on, "I also do not need or want a babysitter."

He nodded once and closed my door as he left the room. "You're a fucking idiot," was what Wes told him before they moved too far away from the door for me to hear more.

I wasn't even going to contemplate what that was about. Instead, I snatched my bag up and pulled out the only other article of clothing I'd packed. It was a rose-to-pale pink, ombre dress that sparkled in the light. I had to wear a special bra with it since it was strapless, and I was lacking in the boob department. I barely filled out a B-cup and needed a little extra help from strategically placed padding to boost me closer to a C in order to make the dress work. Lucky for me, I had a heavily padded, underwire bra from VS that pushed my tits up and together and gave me the appearance of having great cleavage too. I wondered how many other women in Vegas performed this particular illusion.

The dress reached my ankles, and luckily looked just as good with the sandals I'd worn here, since they were at least cute and sparkly, as it would have with heels. Actually, that wasn't true. Heels would have helped the look, especially since I would have appeared taller and leggier, but not bringing heels to get married in had kind of been my fuck you to the whole process, and there wasn't any going back now since I couldn't magically produce something else to parade around in when I went out too. Besides, my dress had a sexy slit up the side that only showed when I took a lengthy step or sat down, then my entire leg from my foot to almost the top of my hip would show. That would have to make up for the less than desirable shoe option.

Yes, this was the dress I had chosen to get married in. It's not like I was going for a traditional, virginal wedding look, and besides it was the best I had on short notice. I took it over to the huge master bedroom closet and found what I was looking for. There was an iron available that had a steam setting that worked like a champ to knock those wrinkles out without damaging the fabric by touching it.

Once I had the dress and sandals on, I moved to the mirror and began applying my makeup. Truth be told, years ago, I had learned how to apply makeup like a professional. I looked like an entirely different person when everything was done, glamorous even. I rarely wore makeup though after a disastrous date my first year in college. It rained on us, and I had to wipe away most of my makeup while we waited for the unrelenting downpour to stop. After I did, the guy asked me why I wanted to trick men into thinking I looked one way, when in reality I didn't.

Ever since, I stuck to the lighter side of the makeup application, making sure to keep things simple. I had a lot of self-esteem issues, some far worse than the ones I dared to remember, and as a result I took things people said about my appearance to heart. That was the only excuse I had for the selfie that I posted to my IG account. It served a couple purposes. First, my family could see that I was just fine, and they'd think I was out living a good life. Second, as shallow as it seemed, the ego boost from the fact that I looked fantastic, and people were commenting about, was much needed.

Once I was satisfied with my look, I grabbed the hotel room key, stuck it in my little clutch, and headed downstairs. I didn't bother with leaving the hotel since there were already far too many sites to see on the premises. Instead, I moved into the shopping areas and found a more appropriate dress to get married in tomorrow, along with shoes that would compliment it. I snickered at the idea, because the dress chosen was even less traditional than the one that I was currently wearing. It certainly would set the mood for my marriage though. I charged it to the room and had it sent up while I made my way to the casino floor.

Since I wasn't 21 yet, I pulled out my fake ID. I know what you're thinking, those guys in Vegas could spot a fake a mile away. True, but my ID was the real deal. I'd used my old college roommate's information to get the state issued ID. She no longer lived in Georgia, and never had an ID issued to her from there anyway. It sucked that it was her name I had to go by, but honestly this was the first time in two years when I needed to use it. I made it onto the casino floor, even though I was two months under the legal age to be there, and that's all that mattered for the moment. Gambling didn't actually appeal to me, I just wanted to soak in the atmosphere so I could one day write about it accurately. Plus, it seemed really depressing to be the lonely spinster binging Netflix while in Vegas on the night before my all-too-real, fake wedding.

I made a circuit around the floor, checking things out, before I hit the bar and ordered a Mojito. Then I turned to do some people watching, only the person who came into focus wasn't someone I necessarily wanted to see. Apparently, I wasn't welcome either since panicked eyes flicked from me to somewhere off to the left. I followed Wes's line of sight and found my future husband standing there entertaining two leggy brunettes by the blackjack tables.

Wesley made his way over to me rather quickly. "What are you doing here? And holy shit, what the hell are you wearing?" His eyes drifted over the expanse of leg that showed as I sat demurely on the barstool.

I just sipped my Mojito and watched him, watching me. When it was clear he was waiting for my answer, I shrugged my shoulders. "I was bored."

He leaned in closely, "Considering I filed all the paperwork for your prenup, as well as setting up an appointment to obtain a marriage license, I know that you aren't old enough to be in here or drinking that."

In answer, I took another sip of my drink and nodded my head at him as if to agree. "And are you planning to narc me out or go about your business and let me go about mine?"

He leaned in even closer, caging me in by putting his hands on the bar on either side of me as he dipped his head down low enough that nothing he said would be overheard. "I don't know what you're trying to start here, but it needs to end," he suggested as if I was about to listen to him. When he pulled back, he must have seen the fire in my eyes because he quickly backpedaled. "I'm just saying, it's not exactly safe for you to be here alone, especially looking like that."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Is it my safety that concerns you, or appearances?" When his lips tightened, making them look thinner than they actually were, I continued. "It seems to me, you might be more concerned with the fact that I might leave here with someone who is not my husband-to-be, thus possibly making a bad show of things." I glanced in the direction where I'd seen my betrothed earlier, but he was no longer there. I didn't bother searching for where he had gotten off to, instead I focused on getting Wes to leave me alone.

"Funny that I'm the one you're worried about when you're enabling your friend to go out and publicly fuck around. It doesn't matter if my reputation is tarnished by a philandering future husband though, huh? So long as I don't do anything to smudge his already filthy image." Wes's shoulders sagged as I spoke. His head shook back and forth too as if he was about to deny everything I was saying.

"Seriously, Wes, you're killing me. I thought we had the brunettes for the night, and here you are trying to add a blonde. I told you no golden hair, at all." Neither of us had seen Tucker coming, which sucked, because I would have rather avoided him and his little announcement, slurred though it was. Wes moved back, letting his arms drop to his sides, instead of where they had been leaning on the bar on either side of me, caging me in. I took a sip of my drink and watched as the reality came crashing down on my future husband.

"Mina?" My name was no more than a surprised puff of air from his lips as his eyes roamed over my made-up face and then slowly down my body. I glanced beside him at the brunette who was impatiently tapping her foot and examining her nails. She was overly made up too and I wondered if she was just as plain under all that contouring as everyone thought I was. I guess the illusion didn't matter when it was only meant to be a quick tryst, when the masks didn't need to slip out of place. My eyes moved back to meet Tucker's.

"Yes?" I asked, drawing the word out as he simply stared at me. When it was clear that he had nothing to say, I placed my almost empty glass on the bar and slipped off the stool. I was still only wearing my flat sandals, so I had to look up at literally everyone.

"Oh, honey, you need to learn how to wear heels," one of the women tittered out.

"Oh honey, why would I when I'm already blowjob sized? I don't even have to get a crick in my neck to perform, how about you?" Wes sputtered out the sip of whatever he had just been drinking, while Tucker's eyes widened even further, if that was possible. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have things to do." I moved to leave but was halted by a hand coming around my bicep, a move that was starting to feel a little too familiar.

"I thought you were staying upstairs?" Tucker questioned me.

"I never said that." The smirk on my face was all challenge.

"I told you that we were going out and you should stay, where you'd be safe."

"And you're not my daddy, and I'm an adult besides, so why the hell would I listen to you?"

"Mina!" My name was hissed from between his lips then. "We're getting married tomorrow. You belong upstairs."

"You're what?" One of the brunettes shrieked. "You said you were single, and not here with anyone."

"Don't worry, I'm used to his infidelity," I countered. "You're not hurting my feelings."

"How could you allow him to do that?" The other woman asked.

"Because I don't give a shit about him," I informed them. "I barely know him. Why would I care? I'm just marrying him because he's a convenience." There, I'd said it. Our dirty little secret aired out like so much soiled laundry.

"Aww, that's so sad," one of the women pouted and then came over and hugged me. "I'm so sorry," she whispered in my ear and I was literally taken aback before she explained. "My sister did that too, arranged through some shady service, and she stupidly fell in love with the man. It broke her. Don't let him break you that way, okay?"

When she pulled away, I had a hard time hiding the wetness that was building behind my eyes. Instead of becoming more of a spectacle, I nodded my head and turned to walk away once more. I guess, Tucker had reached out to stop me again, but his efforts were thwarted by tonight's hookup.

"Let her go. She doesn't need you hovering or shoving this type of thing in her face. You could at least be a little discreet, you know. You two might not be in love or anything, but seeing this, it still does its own kind of damage," she schooled him. I didn't stay within earshot long enough to hear anything else.

Suddenly, my night of people watching on the Vegas strip seemed silly and I wished I'd stayed locked away in my penthouse suite after all. Maybe that was meant to by my tower, my gilded cage, if you will.

"Don't suppose you'd want to try your luck, be my charm for a few moments?" A man's voice called out from just beside me as I passed a table where dice seemed to be the focus of the game. I thought it might have been a craps table, but again, not a gambler or remotely familiar with any aspect of it, so there was room for doubt.

"Me?" I asked as the man continued to stare. He had to be at least mid-thirties, and from the look of things, he was also well-off. He wore his suit, it didn't wear him, like some of the men around the table. That meant it was tailored to perfection, and the body underneath couldn't have been too damn bad either, judging by the way his suit accentuated all his best assets.

"Of course, you, little darlin'." Okay, I could do without the 'little darlin' aspect of his overture, but his accent seemed to make it sound more genuine than put upon. I moved closer, curiosity getting the better of me. Despite what people who weren't from the southern United States thought, not all country accents were the same. My Georgia, southern girl twang was entirely different from this guy's drawl, which sounded like maybe Texan.

"What would a good luck charm have to do?"

He grinned down at me and then took my hand, as he gently tugged me closer. "Just stand here and look like the gorgeous little spinner you are," he whispered in my ear. Spinner? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was I supposed to spin something? I glanced at the table, looking for a wheel – ala the Game of Life – because I'm still just a child, apparently. Nope. Nothing like it. There were chips everywhere, dice, and a hook that the man in charge of the table used to scoop the dice back up. He handed them to the man who asked me to be his lucky charm.

That man then held the dice out in front of him and made one, simple request. "Blow."

So, I gently blew a quick breath across the dice and watched as he slung them down the table where they bounced off the end and rolled to a stop. Cheers rang out and the man's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. "I knew you'd be good luck," he insisted as the person working the table added to the pile of chips sitting in front of the man.

"Before I get too far ahead of myself, are you already here with anyone tonight?" He asked me. I shook my head, because no, I definitely wasn't here with anyone. Tucker and his buddy had just made that painfully clear to me - again.

"Well then, my night is definitely looking up." I glanced up into his bright green eyes, ones that crinkled around the corners, showing his age was probably right where I'd guessed it to be. It was only once I was this close that I noted the little bit of silver at his temples too, that made me wonder if I hadn't actually undersold it. He might have been closer to 40 than 30. He was also ridiculously tall, maybe even close to six and a half feet. The man was also broad in the shoulders, even as his waist tapered down to a trim size. That too seemed larger than life and I found myself curiously wondering if he was just as big everywhere else.

Yep, my ego might have taken a few hits over the past couple of weeks, but that didn't stop my dirty little mind from popping into overdrive. If this man were someone from the books I read, he'd probably take me out of here and do all sorts of unspeakable things to me later tonight. Hell, he might even refuse to give me back. I let my fantasies wander as he continued his winning streak with me by his side.

I was so deep into my fantasies; I almost missed the fact that Tucker and Wes were about to leave the casino without the women who had previously been on their arms. I did notice though, and then I turned away and went back to paying attention to the man of the hour. The giant beside me was apparently winning a damn fortune. It took me a while to figure out the denomination on each of the colored chips, but when I finally got it, I was stunned.

"What do you say, one more for luck, and then we'll go somewhere a little more private?" He asked. I shook my head. "You don't want to go somewhere?"

"I don't think you should bet again," I informed him. He tipped his head to the side, taking me in, and then he laughed so loud, it drew all kinds of attention to the table.

"You are too damn cute," he mumbled between his laughter. "You just figured out what the chips meant, didn't you?"

I glanced up at him and grinned while scrunching my nose up a bit. "That obvious, huh?"

"Yeah, it was darlin'. I'll tell you what, I'll humor you and only play one chip this round. He placed the chip down on the spot where he had been about to go all in and moved the rest of his hoard to safety. Then he had me blow on the dice before he threw them once more. Sure enough, whatever he had thrown was a big bust. He would have lost everything he'd earned. "Well, it seems I need to reward you for your instinct, little darlin'. Let's go get you a drink."

"Or not," came a voice to our right. I rolled my eyes as I turned to see both Wes and Tucker standing there. Wes's eyes were on me while Tucker was assessing the man at my side.

The man, whose name I still didn't even know, took a step away from the table and tipped his head toward someone who scooped up his chips for him. "What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?"

Tucker tipped his head toward me, "It's time for my fiancé to head back up to the suite."

"Fiancé, huh?" I felt the man's eyes roaming all over me and then he lifted my left hand. "Doesn't seem like she is. I know if I had proposed to this gorgeous creature, she'd be wearing a ring that couldn't be missed by any other man."

While I wanted to bask in the sentiment of being called a 'gorgeous creature', I also didn't want to draw any further attention to us, or to myself. "He's not wrong," I informed the man. "I am going to marry him tomorrow."

"You don't exactly seem happy about that prospect, honey." He pulled me further away from my supposed fiancé and his friend and leaned down. "Do you need help? No strings attached, if you need a getaway, I'll make one for you. Hell, every penny I earned tonight was thanks to you. It's yours if you need money to get lost too."

Oh, bless this man's heart. It finally hit me that he'd called me a spinner earlier, which now that I had time to put it in a different context, should have creeped me out a little, but there he was redeeming my faith in humanity anyway. "Thank you, but no, it's not like that. There's no love between us, but I'm not being forced to do it, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know what my plans were for you tonight, but this needs to be said anyway, you deserve better than a marriage where there's no love. Hookups are one thing, marriage is another."

I nodded my head and smiled up at the man. "Thanks for that," I told him as I reached up and gently patted his chest with my hand. Truth be told, he was even more solid under those clothes than I had imagined. Damn it. He offered the same half-smile back to me before tucking something in the palm of my hand. When I glanced down it was to see one of the $10,000 chips he had earned at the table.

"I can't take this."

"Darlin' I just raked in almost a half million at that table with you by my side. I think you can take that one chip." He leaned down, kissed my head, and then walked away without saying another word. I just stared at the chip in my hand and wondered what the hell this life was that I was living. If I hadn't found out about Carlos before, I probably would have cashed the chip and given it to him for his tuition. The thought brought me back to the reality where I wasn't really seen by people, except in whatever capacity I was temporarily convenient to them.

Wes and Tucker met me near the exit of the casino, each coming up on opposite sides of me, as if to block me in. Not that it mattered. My night was done. "I'm going back to the suite, feel free to do whatever you had planned for the night. I won't stop you." I pulled ahead of them both, which was a feat, considering how short I was. Still, it made me thankful for those heelless sandals I was wearing.

Once I hopped into the elevator, I thought I would be free and clear of them, but no, they managed to slide on just before the door closed. I rolled my eyes and took the elevator up to our floor in silence. The quick jaunt into the suite, and all the way to my room, remained just as quiet. I had forgotten about the petty wedding dress I'd had sent up to the room earlier, until I heard Wes ask, "What's this?" Then his laughter filled the entire suite before Tucker came barreling into my room with the opened garment bag in his hands.

"Please, tell me this is not what I think it is?"

I smiled at him as I sat on the edge of the bed and removed my sandals one at a time. "Well, I guess that depends on what you think it is," I responded slowly. "Don't worry, it's not for you to wear. It's for me," I teased, as if he might have thought I bought it for him.

"You can't wear a black dress and veil to our wedding," he demanded.

I stood, my newly freed toes sinking into the lush carpet. "And why not?"

"It's a wedding, not a damn funeral, Mina. People have to believe that I'd actually marry you!" All playful antics fell aside as he shouted those words at me. Even though I knew our wedding was never going to be real, those words sliced right through my thick skin and did some serious damage.

"You know what? No one believes that you would marry me. They certainly don't believe that I would willingly marry you either. I was offered a half million dollars tonight in order to help escape you because it was obvious to a complete stranger that we shouldn't be married. A total stranger was worried for me," I reiterated.

Then I laughed at our situation. "We can't even fool someone we don't know because you're too busy out picking up women and I don't even remotely resemble a woman who is about to get married tomorrow." I held up my empty left hand to him, the one that should have a ring on it considering I was supposedly engaged. "But you know what? I'm super fucking sick of hearing about how I'm not good enough for the super esteemed slut-bag of a man standing in front of me. I may not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but I'm also not the most disloyal, despicable, cocksucker that I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," I shouted at him.

"And that disloyal, despicable cocksucker and slut-bag would be me?" He asked, seemingly shocked by my outburst.

"The difference between us is that I can't help the gifts – or lack thereof – that mother nature bestowed upon me, but you made your own image. I won't have someone who wanted to be seen that way continue to look down on me like I'm some ugly fucking duckling who should be thankful I'm even being spoken to, let alone fake married to."

"I never," he started to say, but I moved forward and slammed the bedroom door in his face before he could finish that thought. Then I threw the lock for good measure. I had never been more thankful for a bedroom door lock.

"I don't want to even hear your voice until I have to tomorrow," I shouted through the door. Not for the first time, I found myself wondering why my father's business was so important to the Brighton/Tucker family that the asshole out there couldn't just pick a wife he'd at least enjoy looking at. I would find out later, much later, that my father's business which I had always been woefully ignorant of, produced a special power cell that was rechargeable with very little energy usage needed. It was a crucial piece of the puzzle that one of the Brighton businesses needed to complete the line of energy efficient vehicles it was creating to rival the current most popular vehicle of its type.

I wouldn't find out about all that until after I became Mrs. Tucker though. Instead, I managed to call down to the boutique and ask if they had a similar dress to the one that I had purchased earlier, only in a less dramatic color. They did, and so when I finally opened the door of the hotel suite the next day, after having the dress delivered to me in my room, I was donning an entirely new look for my wedding.

This one was the palest of blue greens with a sash that matched the exact color of my eyes. It was stunning to see it on me and made me wonder if the saleswoman who had seen me yesterday had remembered my eyes when she picked this one out and sent it up. Honestly, if I were to have gotten married to someone I actually loved, I would have picked this dress and married that lucky son of a bitch on a beach somewhere. That was, in fact, the type of wedding I used to dream about. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I imagine it taking place in some tacky love chapel on the Vegas strip, but here we were. I didn't get the devoted, doting husband, the perfect destination wedding, or the beautiful bouquet of flowers I always dreamed of, but fate had deemed at least I should have a worthy dress to wear for the nightmare I was about to enter into.

Inspired by the dress, I made my face up with skill and precision, so that it matched the look, highlighting my best features and making the color in my eyes pop so they stood out in perfect harmony with the perfect dress. Then, I attempted to add a little curl to the ends of my stick-straight hair and the best I could manage was a sort of beach-wave look as the curls fell right out despite the maximum hold hairspray I had used.

A knock on my door startled me into dropping the curling iron I was nearly finished with. I unplugged the thing and made my way to the door. "We need to get going if we're going to get everything taken care of in time," Wes instructed as I slid the door open, grabbed my little clutch that contained all the pertinent documents I needed, and came face-to-face with an awestricken man. Well, no that wasn't quite right. I came face-to-chest with Wes's tux-clad body, but when I glanced up, he seemed stunned.

"Well, if you'd move out of the way, I could get to this appointment," I told him when he didn't bother to budge.

"You look, holy shit, um… You look amazing, Mina." His stammered compliment didn't even mean anything. I stood there waiting for him to get out of the way, and also refused to offer a compliment back, even though it was very much deserved. Wes wore his tux well. It was almost a shame that I was marrying his best friend today, because he might have been worth tempting heartbreak for.

After all, Wes was a lawyer, so he had to be at least moderately intelligent, despite who his friends were. He had that golden boy charm about him, like he descended straight from Zeus's loins. He was all hard-bodied, blond haired, blue-eyed perfection. Still, it didn't matter, because I knew he had the same basic taste in women as his bestie. They both seemed to prefer leggy models with curves for days, even if those curves were manufactured. And let's be real, if I wasn't terrified of surgery, I'd probably manufacture up some curves for myself too, so I wasn't judging those women for doing it. I would never be what they were though.

"Are we ready to go, or are we just going to stand here and have a staring competition?" I asked.

"Oh, um, yeah, sorry. We're going to go. Tucker is going to meet us there." Of course, he was. I scoffed as I managed to move past the idiot who was sent to escort me to wherever we were meeting my husband-to-be. The man couldn't be here to even see me to the altar himself. "He had something to take care of first," Wes went on to say, as if that cleared everything up.

"Yeah, whatever," I huffed out. "Do you think we can make a detour in the casino on our way out?"

"Why?"

I held up the chip I'd been given the night before. "I need to cash this in."

Wes looked at me like he wasn't sure but then nodded his head. "Sure, we'll have to be quick though."