Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

LENNIE

I sat on Payton's bed, pillow on my lap, staring at my phone like it was about to detonate. Judging by the number of calls and texts over the past several hours, it was already too late.

My mom was calling for the tenth time in the past hour. I tapped decline and set my notifications to vibrate. I'd call her later. Much, much later. Fuck, my entire Italian family was gonna ream me out good. The replies had already started thanks to my husband's drunken antics with my phone last night. They'd be happy as fuck to see me married, but eloping? That was a big no. Weddings were sacred. And when they found out that this was all a drunken mistake? I'd be saying ‘ mi spiace '—I'm sorry—for the rest of my goddamn life.

Not to mention all the razzing from everyone in my security crew, including my boss, Regan, the other bodyguards, the guys in the band…

As I sat there and rubbed my head, memories of last night flickered in my mind, with more and more details coming to light. I'd drunk a lot, but not as much as Payton. I rarely drank and when I did, I didn't overdo it. I'd sometimes been called up to work on protective detail with little to no notice, so it was safer to avoid alcohol. And being on guard, I was always aware of my surroundings. It was my normal. When I did drink, I could handle a lot of booze. Or so I thought. Until last night.

Turns out, it wasn't the booze I couldn't handle. It was Payton DeLaine.

No surprise there. The sexy blond hairstylist was a force all his own. He had confidence and style to boot. And that booty? Mmm. Fucking sinful. He was made for Sin City. Payton sparkled brighter than the neon lights that bejewelled the strip.

Except for last night.

I remembered that much, at least. He'd been sitting at the bar during the band's after-party celebration, alone, downing shots at a rate that had me concerned. I was used to the party scene—I worked with rockstars, after all. But something was going on with Payton. He'd been quiet lately, not as flirty as he usually was. And he never drank heavily.

Even though I was technically off duty by that time, I monitored the situation, noting several men sitting at the bar, eyeing Payton. No surprise, the man was gorgeous, and when he walked into a room, everyone noticed. But, after an hour, Payton was so inebriated that he could barely stand up. When two strangers made their move on him, I intervened.

Protective wasn't work mode. It was me. And something about Payton had all my vigilant instincts working overtime.

Another memory flashed.

Most of the band's entourage had left the party for a club, but Payton refused to join them. Until it was just me and him sitting at the bar. And when he passed me several shots, I finally let my guard down. And I let him tease me, his favorite pastime. I'd hoped it would put his luminous smile back in place.

He was so damn pretty with those hazel eyes of his, more gold than green, and a flirty and fun personality that had everyone, even grumpy asses like me, smiling. Okay, maybe not on the outside. I didn't let him know how much he affected me. If I did, I was certain he'd have me wrapped around those slender, talented fingers of his in no time.

Like that ring he was wearing. My ring. The one I'd obviously put there last night. At our wedding. Fucking hell. Funny enough, I could remember leaving the bar with him and hopping in a car. But the memories after that were still fuzzy.

Where did we get the rings? I glanced down at my hand. I could tell from the weight of the band that it was a quality piece of jewelry. And that sparkler Payton had on was near to blinding.

Think, Len, think.

It had to be the same place Van and Brodie bought theirs; it wasn't far from the chapel. I tapped on my rideshare app to see where we'd traveled to, but there were no trips from last night. We'd probably used Payton's phone.

Despite the razzing I knew was coming, I texted Regan to tell her I needed a) a sick day, b) a full tracking of my phone, c) the name of the jewelry store she'd taken Brodie and Van to, and d) any eyewitnesses from last night's party.

My boss's reply? No shit. Then she sent me the name of the jewelry store, a place called Dazzle which was located in a sketchy area of the city.

I tapped on another message, this one from Valen, one of my colleagues and closest friends.

Valen: Dude, you MARRIED Payton??? He's way out of your league LOL. And he's posting pics everywhere. Call me!

Here we go…

Lennie: FU. All I remember is taking shots with him in the bar. I don't know how we got to that chapel. No rideshare trips on my phone.

Valen: Doesn't matter how. It's done. Are you with him now?

Lennie: In his hotel room. Nothing happened, though. I'd never take advantage of him that way.

Valen: But you would marry him?

Lennie: He married me, too. And I'm off today so we can resolve this. Know any divorce lawyers?

Valen: It's Vegas, pretty sure you can find one NP. But are you sure? You're gonna break poor Payton's heart.

Lennie: Not funny

Valen: I'm not joking. His flirting with you is for real.

I didn't believe my friend. He was right when he said Payton was out of my league.

I glanced down at my phone again, at the pictures that were now common knowledge in our shared circle, especially the one of me and Payton kissing. In that moment, we looked like we fit, and I wished like hell I could remember that kiss.

"Don't be an idiot," I mumbled to myself. "He wouldn't date you, never mind marry you."

"Who wouldn't date you?" Payton asked.

I looked up to find my husband in nothing but a tiny white towel, his wet hair slicked back. I preferred the wild curls, but no matter what, he was stunning. He was staring at me, his beautiful eyes wide, and I nearly lost my train of thought.

"Uh, nothing," I muttered.

"I can't get the damn ring off."

"I thought you were keeping it?" I snarked.

I got a rude gesture for that comment. Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, I smiled in return.

"We got them on, so it stands to reason we'll get them off."

I tugged on my ring, but it wouldn't budge. Shit.

"We need soap," I explained. "Or oil."

"I tried soap in the shower, and it didn't work," Payton sighed, and then his face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I have lube! That'll work."

Jesus, I didn't dare think about Payton pouring lube over his hand. And what he might do with said hand after that.

"Can we focus on finding a lawyer first?" I bit out. "Done is done after all, ring or not."

"True." He nodded and sauntered over to the closet, opening the door. "Bathroom's all yours."

"Thanks." I looked around for my pants. They were on the chair on the other side of the room. Which meant I'd have to walk across the room naked or with this fucking pillow to cover myself. "Can you turn around?"

"Can you be serious?" He scoffed and dropped his towel.

I thought his ass in tight denim or pink satin was sexy, but bare? Oh, baby. It was high and tight, two sweet handfuls of perfection. Ngh . And he was standing three feet away from me. I was half hard and growing harder with every passing second.

Fuck it. If he didn't care, why should I? So, what if I had a hard-on? It was a perfectly normal reaction.

I put the pillow aside and got up, stalking over to the bathroom, not daring to look back to see if the blond brat was watching me. This morning was so weird. I was never self-conscious about my body. And not around anyone I'd slept with. Well, technically, Payton and I hadn't had sex. We just cuddled in bed.

Shaking my head, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I couldn't stop staring at my hand. At how right the ring looked on my finger.

I'm still drunk.

No. I was hungover, not drunk. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale. My beard was growing in fast, but I couldn't be bothered shaving. So, I turned on the water in the shower as hot as it would go and then took my time scrubbing down.

Clean, and now mostly awake, I grabbed a white bath towel to wrap around my hips.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, my eyes locked on Payton standing in front of the window. And holy shit, he was dressed to kill in neon pink jeans, a gold mesh top, and stiletto booties that showcased his long, lean body to full effect. My cock was liking the view way too much.

Payton turned around and when I glanced at his face—the dark eyeliner that made his eyes look brighter, and the slick lip gloss—there was nothing I could do to hide the fact that my dick was tenting my towel.

"We have a problem," he stated, his eyes roaming down my body.

"Another one?" I replied and quickly walked over to the chair to grab my briefs, pants, and shirt. "Can't we deal with our wedding fiasco first?"

"Brodie and the guys are waiting in the restaurant downstairs."

"What? Why?" I asked.

"They want to take us out for a celebratory brunch."

"Oh my God. Why didn't you tell them what really happened?"

"I tried to," Payton chuckled and sauntered towards me. "We might as well get all the teasing over with at once. Plus, I'm sure they know a good lawyer."

"Elias Kain," I blurted out and smacked my forehead.

"Who?"

"Wayward's lawyer. God, I'm fucking slow on the uptake this morning. Anyway, I'm sure Elias can deal with our—" I paused; the remaining word stuck in my throat. "Divorce. Or he can refer us."

I reached for my briefs, slid them on under my towel, and then threw the towel aside. Payton stood there, watching me get dressed. My hands started to shake, my cool, calm bodyguard demeanor nowhere to be found. And, of course, my cock was still fucking hard.

I tried three times to get my fly zipped. On the fourth try, Payton stepped up to me, pushed my shaky hands aside, zipped me up, and patted my abs. That didn't help my poor dick at all.

"You didn't need to do that," I whispered.

Fuck, his lips were so close and so tempting.

"Of course, I did. You're my husband," Payton replied with a flirty grin.

My heart raced out of control.

"For the next week, at least," he continued.

"A week?" I repeated.

"While you were in the shower, I googled how long it would take to get a divorce here. A week minimum. Usually, three to four weeks. And the chapel where we got married? They file the license the next day, so yes, the marriage is legal."

"So, we're looking at being married for a month?"

Payton nodded, biting his lower lip.

Why did that news make me feel calmer? Shouldn't I be stressed about being married at all, never mind like this?

Taking a deep breath, I reached for my shirt, slipped it on, and motioned to the door. "You ready to face the music, Mr. DeLaine?"

"I sure am," Payton replied, picking up his designer handbag. "But remember, it's Mr. Rizzoli now."

Like always, Payton strutted out of the room and left me speechless.