Waking up in Vegas: A Royal Romance to Remember!. Romy Sommer
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clutching her heart, she lifted the crisply starched sheet. Oh hell…
Beneath the sheet, she was stark naked, aside from yet more gold glitter. And not alone, in a room she didn’t recognize.
What the hell had happened last night?
Through the aching blur, she fumbled for memories. She and Khara had got off work not long before dawn, and they’d gone out for a drink as they often did at the end of a shift. They’d chosen a pool hall away from The Strip, the kind of place that wasn’t in any tourist brochure. With the sedatives the doctor had prescribed to help her sleep, Phoenix hadn’t had that much to drink. Besides, she could handle alcohol. Unless…
There was only one thing that could get her drunk.
She closed her eyes, grasping for the memories. They’d danced to music from an old-fashioned juke box and played a couple of games of pool. She’d even won a little money off a guy with tattooed arms who couldn’t believe he’d been bested by a girl.
And then there’d been a man who bought her a drink…
The bathroom door opened. Phoenix sucked in a breath and opened her eyes.
Yeah, that man.
God, but he was drool worthy. Especially wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips. He definitely worked out. Until now she’d believed six packs like that were the results of air brushing in magazine spreads. This set of abs was one hundred percent real.
She forced her gaze higher, over the tanned chest, broad shoulders, up to meet a pair of startling blue eyes in a face framed by overlong fair hair.
“You’re awake. Good. I’ve ordered breakfast.”
She was so not hanging around for breakfast. She cleared her throat. “Where are my clothes?”
He pointed toward the living room. Clothes lay strewn across the floor and, yep, there it was, the only thing that could get her truly and embarrassingly drunk… a bottle of champagne, empty and lying on its side on the floor.
“How are you feeling?” The demi-god’s voice matched his face; deep, masculine, with a hint of amusement and a faint Germanic trace.
He perched on the edge of the bed. He smelled as good as he looked, clean and slightly lemony. Just like the pillow. Her blood all rushed south again.
She could only imagine how much fun he’d been up close and personal. Pity she had absolutely no memory of it.
“Did we really…?” She waved a hand at the bed, and her naked body beneath the sheet that she now held clutched to her breasts. And her heart stopped.
Was that a ring on her finger? On her left hand?
She clutched her head in her hands and groaned. “Please tell me we didn’t…”
She shook her head. Sex with a virtual stranger was one thing, but there was no way she’d done the M word.
He laughed a low, throaty chuckle. “Yes, of course we did. It’s going to take some getting used to, isn’t it? Who’d have thought we’d meet our destiny in Las Vegas?”
Destiny? He had to be kidding, right? There must be hidden cameras in the room. If this was someone’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny. Whoever the pranksters were, they’d better be paying her a lot of money. She rubbed her temples. “I need coffee.”
“I’ve ordered coffee and fresh orange juice with breakfast, but you should drink the juice first.” A knock sounded on the distant door to the suite. “Great timing.”
As soon as he turned his back to let the room service waiter in, Phoenix made a mad dash for the bathroom. One look in the mirror was all she could bear. While Demi-God had that tousled, fresh-out-of-bed-and-can’t-wait-to-get-back-in-it look, she just looked as if she’d fallen asleep drunk.
She bolted for the door and rubbed her throbbing temples. Think, think. What the hell had she done? And more importantly, what the hell was she going to do now?
Steeling herself, she turned and checked her reflection in the mirror. Glitter? Seriously? She was so not a sparkly, gold glitter kind of girl.
First things first. Shower. Clothes. And then she was getting the hell out of here.
She turned on the shower as hot as she could bear and stepped under the stream. Then she leaned her forehead against the cool, tiled wall. Okay memory, you can come back now.
The ring on her finger was bigger than a wedding ring, a masculine thing, more signet ring than wedding ring. A pattern of stylised roses wove around a blue stone carved in the shape of a dragon’s head. She was no jewellery expert, but she guessed it was made of silver and lapis lazuli, and was very, very old. It was the kind of ring one used when one married on the spur of the moment without any planning.
Not the big, flashy diamond ring the producers would no doubt supply if this were an episode of Pranked.
She groaned aloud. She couldn’t possibly have agreed to get married last night, even on a bad mix of sedatives and champagne. Though Demi-God sincerely seemed to think they had.
Demi-God also needed a name. She thumped her head against the tiles, but that didn’t help. One memory sprang to mind, though. They’d gone dancing in some swanky nightclub. And boy, could he dance. A sudden clear image surfaced, of his hands on her waist as they slow-danced, locked in their own little bubble on a dance floor, surrounded by grinding, gyrating bodies.
Desire flashed through her, so strong her knees threatened to buckle. If that was her reaction when he wasn’t even in the room, could she perhaps really have done it? Could she have married him in an endorphin-fuelled high?
She used his lemon-scented body wash and scrubbed her hair with the masculinely-branded shampoo. Feeling at least a little better, she switched off the water and stepped out the shower. The towels felt even fluffier and softer than they looked. Whoever Demi-God was, he could afford one of the best hotels in town that was for sure.
Whether he’d won it all in the casino last night, or earned it the regular way, she didn’t care. Either way, she hoped she hadn’t signed a pre-nup.
She shook her head. Focus, Phoenix.
She needed clothes, but hers were strewn across the floor of the suite, and getting to them would mean having to face Demi-God again. She wasn’t ready for that.
Beside the door hung a cotton bathrobe. This was Vegas. As long as she wasn’t running down the street naked, she could probably still hail a cab without getting arrested for indecency. She covered herself and faced the mirror again. Much better.
Now she had to figure out an escape route, preferably one that didn’t involve having to get past her new husband first. Morning After small talk was bad enough without having to throw in ‘Who the hell are you?’ too. Not to mention, heaven only knew what her endorphins might do if she had to face him again.
The window.
There was only one, high up over the massive spa bath. She climbed up on the bath ledge and wrestled with the latch. With an ominous and over-loud squeak it finally gave way, and she shoved it open as far as it would go.
Damn. Regulation four inches.
“Are you okay in there?” Demi-God’s voice sounded very close to the bathroom door and her heart hammered.
“I’m fine.” Insane, crazy, desperate, but just fine.
Phoenix looked back at the window. It was high. It was extremely narrow. But as long as she didn’t breathe, she could do this. She hoped. Arms, head or legs first?
She’d only done this once before, but if she could do it once, she could do it again. All she needed was a ledge to stand on once she was out and a drainpipe to shimmy down. This time should be even easier, since she was barefoot.
As there