Chapter 2 Five hundred dollars, going once, going twice, and SOLD! To the redhead whose face tells us she's never had a one-night stand in her life! Okay so the chick on stage didn't actually say that but I'm pretty sure my face IS in fact that readable. It's also currently the color of my dress (red as a rose) and my hair (also, red as a rose), which speaks for itself. I'm at a reverse auction (you know, women bid on hot men for charity and in turn, get a date with the hunk of their choice) and somehow, I raised my paddle on the highest bid of the night. As the next guy saunters out onto the stage, I can't help but ask myself how I got here, although I know the answer to that question. My sister is getting married. We are talking about my younger, blonder, skinnier, more reckless, more lively, less maid of honor for life little sister Kate. Think 27 Dresses. Except I am not five foot nine and James Marsden is nowhere to be found. I am, in a word, the always a bridesmaid girl. Yet tonight, during my sister's bachelorette party, which happens to be in Las Vegas, after accepting shots from every guy at every bar we've stumbled into, Kate looked right at me, pointed a tipsy finger and said, "We need to get you laid." I laughed it off, as you do when you're the older sister who has spent a lifetime taking care of your baby sister who always seems to find never ending rabbit holes of trouble to get into. So, I guess the real question is, what am I, the sensible older sister, still doing here? And the answer to that is, Kate is dragging me to meet a man I don't even know and just spent an ungodly amount of slot machine winnings in hopes of fulfilling the aforementioned goal. "Kate!" I yell as quietly as possible as she tugs me through the crowd. "Slow down. Where are we going?" "To meet your man!" she cries out enthusiastically. "My man? I don't even know the guy." But Kate is not listening. As she tugs me to the backside of the stage where said man is probably working on getting dressed again, it's obvious that my bride-to-be sister has one goal and one goal only. "Well, you're about to get to know him. And well if I had to guess," she shimmies her shoulders before giving me a once over. "Now let's just spruce up your wiley hair and I think you could use some more lip gloss." "Kate, seriously. I don't have time for this. I have so much going on and-" "Let me guess. You're thinking about work," she says while pulling make-up out of her bag like rabbits out of a hat. "So, what if I am?" I ask without my lips touching as she glosses them up with something that tastes like pomegranate. "All you do is think about work." "Well sorry for trying to make something of myself. But I'm starting a new job on Monday. A really, really good job. I need to focus on that." "And you can focus on that. After you go on a date with a really hot silver fox who was fucking you with his eyes the entire time he peacocked around that stage. Seriously, Mandy. I don't know why, but you out of everyone in this room got his attention. And now, he's yours." "I don't want him to be mine," I argue. "He's a stranger." "A hot stranger who auctioned himself off. You'd be insulting him if you didn't go out with him. That and wasting a lot of money." As much as I hate to admit it, I can't deny it. Because this man is not like the others. For one, he was fully clothed to start with. While most of them came slinking onto the stage shirtless (one of them literally walked out in nothing but black boxer-briefs), this guy, this man was just one jacket short of a three-piece suit. Not only that, but he's older than the others. Much older. But not in a bad way... His thick, dark hair was styled, not messed, unlike the boys that preceded him. And as he turned his head to survey the room, flecks of silver caught in the overhead lights. His jawline wasn't cocky, it was confident. Mature. But his body. His body was something to be reckoned with. Beneath the fitted Armani suit was the hint of a solid torso, tight from disciplined routine. And don't get me started on his forearms. I may not be a girl who gets around much but I am a slut for a decent pair of forearms. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Kate runs her tongue across her upper teeth with a smile. "I am thinking about the predicament you got me into," I huff with rosy cheeks. And I know she knows I am lying. And bothered. Fuck sister to sister telepathy. "I don't even remember his name." "It was Cal," she says straightening my dress. And by straightening I mean, she is tugging it down in the front to further expose my tits that are already popping. Cal? That's not his real name. It doesn't fit him. It's not bold enough. Cal sounds like the name of a fuckboy, trust fund baby. This man has the chiseled jaw and stone eyes of a man who has worked for every brick in his empire. I wonder how rough his hands are... And just like that, I am thinking of him again. His skin is a tan, but not from the sun. It's a natural olive. And unlike the waxed man-babies before him, there's a soft patch of hair on his stony pecks that trails down south. Unpopular opinion: I do love a subtle happy trail... He's also got patchwork tattoos, on his shoulders, on his chest, one on his ribs, and what appears to be raven wings on his back. "You're doing it again," Kate practically sings, pulling me from my daydream again. "I am not!" I snap. "Say what you want, but he's coming this way." I turn around, maybe too quickly. A guy with long, shaggy hair in a leather jacket and faded skinny jeans is grinning a nasty boy grin and headed right for us. Behind him, is Cal. His shirt is back on, but it doesn't change the fact that it's almost too small. It spreads over his chest with more than the necessary effort, showcasing his pecs and reminding me of what they look like when they're bare under the stage lighting. His gaze is intense. If I had to guess, this wasn't his choice either. Yet here we are. "Hello, hello," the guy with the long hair says, grinning at me and winking at Kate before turning his full attention back to me. "I believe my friend here won a date with you." "I believe so," I state. I'm having a hard time making eye contact with him. His presence in front of me is so...dominating. Like he's taking up the whole room just by standing there. He smells like sweat and caramel and the combination alone makes me feel the need to wet my lips with my tongue. His eyes flicker to my mouth. Jesus Christ. "You waved your paddle," he says, and his voice is everything I ever wanted it to be and more. Gritty, low, unamused. Why is a grumpy man so enticing? I always saw myself with a funny guy, an easy-going guy, not someone whose presence makes my skin feel tight around my body. "It was an accident," I say because I'm me. "Wow," Kate laughs awkwardly. "Well, this is going..." "Fucking fantastic," the guy with the long hair laughs. "I'm Noah. And I think this is awesome. You two have fun." "Where are you going, Noah?" Cal looks suddenly disturbed. Not panicked. Not worried. He doesn't actually strike me as the type of man who gets ruffled too easily. Even between him and young Johnny Depp here, I'm thinking he's the man in charge. "I will be at the Glass Pony," Noah says. "Isn't that a strip club?" Kate asks. "Yes ma'am. When in Rome, right?" She smiles and he smiles back and with that I am done here. And by the look I catch on Cal's face, so is he. "You hungry?" he asks. "Yes," I answer. Though mostly, I am just ready to not be here anymore. If we can't go back to the room and I have to go on an obligatory date with America's Next Top Male Model, 45 and Up Edition, I want to get it over with. As we make our way out of the speakeasy I can feel the stares coming from every which direction. But mostly I feel his presence. It's that...hard. We step out into the night air, which is hotter than the casino air but more refreshing in some way and make our way down the strip. "This is nice," I say, and he looks at me. "Just being out of there I mean. I never really wanted to...I mean my sister was very insistent on..." "It wasn't my idea either," he admits, and I actually smile. "Well, that's a relief. I'd be a little hesitant if I knew you were actually a fuckboy." A sound comes from his face...a snort? A laugh? I'm not sure because he isn't actually smiling, though I get a sense of amusement from somewhere deep inside. "My name's not Cal," he says as we wait to cross to the other side of the street. "No?" "No. It's Callum. No one calls me Cal." "Callum," I say softly and his eyes, a dark shade of bluish green, dart over to me for a moment. Suddenly I am getting flashbacks of him looking at me from the stage. It's hard to believe that that wasn't some weird made-up dream. That the man who was playing footsy with my eyes in a crowded room is now about to take me out to dinner. In Sin City of all places. "What's your name?" he asks as we start to walk. It suddenly occurs to me that I haven't told him. I could tell him a fake name. I could say anything I want. But for some reason, I don't feel like lying about it. They say you can be anyone you want when you're in Vegas. But I find myself wanting to be me...in Vegas. "Amanda." "That's pretty," he says and his hand falls onto my lower back, ushering me through a crowd of oncoming drunken college boys. It's not pretty. It's plain. It's everyone's name born in the decade I was born in. A decade that makes me young-ish to him. "What are you hungry for, Amanda?" he asks. "We could go anywhere you want." I look around, fully aware that Vegas has everything from roof top bars to Chilis. Yet something about sitting at a restaurant, at any capacity, seems too...stuffy. We may have been forced on this date, but it doesn't mean we have to play it out like puppets. "Okay don't make fun of me," I start with a smile. "I would never," he answers quickly. I don't know what to do with that. So, I go on. "I love a good food truck." A small nearly undetectable smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. "I could go for a food truck..." With that, we make our way to Tony's Authentic Mexican Street Food. It's parked somewhere between the Luxor and the Excalibur and despite being hot, greasy, and loud from the ever-running generator, the line is at least 15 people long, and it smells like heaven. "My sister would freak if she knew I wasn't milking a five-star restaurant out of you," I chuckle as the line slowly moves along. "Is that what you want?" "Hell no," I say with a crinkled nose. After a beat, he asks another question. "Why do I take it you do what she says a lot?" "Because I do what she says a lot," I snort. "I'm sure it's obvious." "What's obvious?' he asks as we get closer to the front of the line. "That I am the rule following, responsible older sister who never has any fun." "I never assumed that about you," he says. I roll my eyes over to him. "Oh really?" Callum looks right at me with the same eyes he looked at me with when he was on stage. Alive. Wild. Suggestive. Dead, fucking sexy. "I see more than that." After a long, hot moment, I am able to rip my gaze away. We are close enough to the truck now that I can divert my attention to the menu, even though I already know what I want. "You're just saying that because you want to get laid," I say, and I swear to God I hear a laugh escape his throat. "No offense, sweetheart, but if all I wanted was to get laid, I wouldn't have to put time or effort into it." Why did that just make me aware of what's going on in my panties? We order our food and Callum pays for it, even though I'm not sure those were the rules. Come to think of it, we dipped out of there so fast I don't actually know what the rules were. He gets a carne asada burrito with everything on it and I get the loaded nachos with extra jalapenos. We both order a margarita. We take our food over to a bench and he clinks his plastic marg glass to mine. "To blind dates," he says. "And good street food," I add and we both smile before taking a sip. Both of us cough. "Jesus Christ, they pour heavy." "Are you complaining?" he asks, swallowing hard before taking another sip. "Not at all." We eat and drink in the hot Nevada air, and as the tequila melts our nerves, we get more talkative too. "So, Noah is my best friend and co-worker," he says, his words fluid. "Interesting. You don't seem like the same kind of guy...at all." "We aren't," he admits, and I snort out a laugh. "Sorry. I don't have a cute laugh," I say, covering my mouth. "I think it's cute. I think you're cute." Callum takes a bite of his burrito and doesn't look at me. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Fɪndηovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Meanwhile I am gawking at him. "So, I have to be honest," I say as we finish up and keep walking. We end up grabbing another round of drinks and because it's Vegas, we carry them with us down the strip. "Shoot," he says, one hand on his cup and one hand in his pocket. "My sister kind of micromanages my life," I tell him. "And her entire goal on this bachelorette trip was to get me laid." Callum's attention darts over to me and we stop walking. Well, he stops walking and I run into him. PSA- those abs are just as hard as they looked on stage. "Are you for real right now? It's her bachelorette party and she is hyper focused on you-" "Getting laid. Yes." With that, he laughs. A real, belly laugh that lights my nerves on fire and makes me want to figure out how to do it again. "That is...some college bullshit," he says, wiping his hand down his face before gulping down more of his drink. "And it's my life. Welcome to it." "I think you should tell your sister to kick rocks, and you should do what you want to tonight, starting with having another drink with me." My eyebrows stitch together, and I study him. This is...not what I was expecting. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the city. Or maybe Callum never lets loose either and Vegas somehow seems like a land of opportunity. Or regret. Either way, I can't stop staring at him. "I'll have another drink with you," I say. We stop in one of the casinos and grab some very overpriced cocktails. Callum pulls out a card, tips 25% and doesn't bat an eye. "Thank you," I say as we make our way back down the street. "Don't thank me. Just do me a favor." I stop walking. "What kind of favor?" "Have a good time. Do what you want to do. If I had to guess, and this is all surface level assumption, I think you are smart, witty, funny, and don't need your sister telling you what to do. Not to mention, you're very sexy. So, Amanda, what do you want to do? The night is young, and the city is yours." Did he just say I was sexy? "I...hadn't thought about it," I say. Just then, a group of people dashes past us, and we move closer together. Callum puts his arm around me, and I put my hand on his chest. His hard chest. "No?" he asks. "I think you're lying." My mouth pops open in offense but I can't help but smile. "Lying about what?" "I think you want to have fun. I think you want to let loose a bit, but you feel like you're not supposed to. I think...you want to get laid." "That, sir, is very presumptuous." "But it's right, isn't it?" I can literally feel the heat rising to my cheeks and I keep walking. "I don't sleep around, if that's what you're asking." "I'm not insinuating that you do," he says, falling into step with me again and I'm not sure if I am turned on or annoyed. "But I do think you want to. Have you ever?" I stop walking right in front of what looks like a tiny church. "Have I ever what? Had sex?" "Hooked up with someone." "I don't think that's any of your business," I answer, crossing my arms and looking away. Out of my peripheral though, I can see him smirking. It's just a half a smirk but fuck me, it's a good half. "That's a no. Damn. Okay, different question. Have you ever wanted to?" "Same answer as before." "And that's a yes." "If you think I am going to sleep with you just because you're cute and good with words, you better guess again," I tell him. "I'm not that type of girl." "The type of girl that does what she wants and doesn't care what people say or think?" he asks. "No." "Oh God. Are you one of those girls that wants to be married before you fuck someone?" My mouth pops open and I laugh at the audacity of it. "Of course not. Jesus, what is the matter with you?" "Tequilla. But also...hear me out. Neither of us wanted to be here tonight, yet we are. Neither of us expected to meet someone and be attracted to them, yet...we are. I think we should take advantage of it, don't you?" "I think you just want to take advantage of me," I say, ready to step around him. But then Cal, or Callum, does the last thing I expect him to do. He drops to one knee. "Oh, my fucking God," I laugh, looking around to see if anyone is watching. "What are you doing?" "Making an honest woman of you so we can both enjoy what little time we have left in Sin City." "You are not proposing right now!" I laugh. "Are you?" "Will you say yes?" I look around and people are in fact staring. Then I look up at the tiny fake church. As insane as it all is, I am having fun. So, I decide to play along. "Fine, I'll marry you. But only for the sex." He laughs and I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. We walk into the tiny fake chapel, and my nerves feel electric. I can't believe I am really doing this. But you know what they say- what happens in Vegas... Title: Accidental Billionaire Bride Author: CrushReel Genre: Romance, CEO, Sweet Romance, Modern, Romantic, Office Status: ongoing In "Accidental Billionaire Bride" by CrushReel, a surprising twist reveals that she unknowingly married a billionaire. As they navigate through misunderstandings, their hearts slowly intertwine. With the wise guidance of his grandmother, their journey unfolds in unexpected ways. This sweet romance novel delves into themes of unexpected love and the complexities of relationships in a modern office setting. The characters' gradual emotional evolution adds depth to the narrative, making it a captivating read for fans of CEO romances and contemporary love stories. 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