Chapter 2

TWO

Colin

I 'm not entirely sure how I got here, yet here I stand in front of a Dolly Parton impersonator holding hands with Owen goddamn Godfrey. I mean, obviously Dolly was my idea. If you're going to get married in Vegas, it has to be as gaudy as possible. My parents are going to be horrified, which just makes me so happy.

The bright fluorescent lights are not doing anyone any favors, but Owen is just so beautiful that it doesn't matter. Is he going to kiss me at the end? It's expected during a wedding, but he's straight…

The pink in my soon-to-be husband's cheeks is from the alcohol, I think. The poor man was so pathetic looking at the bar, I couldn't just leave him like that.

The fact that I've been salivating over what I assume his dick is like has very little to do with this. No, this is about protecting my little sister. The poor girl isn't even eighteen yet, and my parents are auctioning her off to the Godfreys. I won't stand for it.

My entire life I've protected my sisters. Just because I'm no longer living in my parents' house doesn't mean that ends.

Wanting to ride Owen's dick like a bucking bronco is merely a coincidence.

Shut up, brain.

Why am I arguing with myself?

I snort and stumble into Owen. Maybe the shots weren't the best idea, but whatever it takes to make sure Cassie is safe.

"I now pronounce you husband and husband," Dolly says in a very fake southern accent. Did I say, ‘I do'? I don't remember saying it…

Owen looks at me, glassy eyed and a little dazed. Poor boy, I'm going to enjoy tormenting him.

I step closer, stumbling into his chest so he has to hold onto me, or I'll fall. With zero hesitation, I grab Owen's face with one hand, wrapping my other arm around his neck, and kiss him. His surprised gasp opens his mouth, but I don't press for more, despite how badly I want to.

"Congrats," a woman smacking gum says, and Owen pushes me back. "Here ya go."

Owen snorts, a very un-Owen sound. "You kissed me. Oliver is going to be pissed I kissed a Covington."

She hands me a polaroid of us kissing with Dolly giving a thumbs-up behind us. I didn't know they made polaroid film anymore. I thought that died with the dreams of millennials living the American dream?

"I'm never going to live this down." Owen sighs but signs the papers the gum lady gives him. "I'm going to be expected to have a big wedding like Oliver and Isaac."

He shivers like the very idea disgusts him.

I hook my arm through his and basically drag him from the building. "Don't worry, husband, I'll make sure all the attention is on me."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he deadpans. "And Oliver abandoning me now that he has Isaac."

His driver is sitting at the curb when we emerge, and I slide into the car. For a fake marriage, I could have done worse. Not having sex is going to be a real bitch though. Hmm, I wonder just how straight he is…maybe he'll get just as desperate as I will be and decide to see how the other side lives.

My dick tries to rise at the idea, but all the alcohol is keeping it from happening. I sigh and relax into the seat, watching the bright lights dance past the windows. People in all sorts of outfits fill the sidewalk on the strip. It's fascinating to watch.

We pull into the Bellagio, and a valet opens the doors for us. I grab a twenty and slip it into the pocket of the adorable twink that opened mine.

"Thank you, sir." He smiles.

"Well, aren't you adorable?"

"Colin," Owen slurs, and I swing my head toward him. He's tense. If only he would let me help him relax. A good orgasm does the mind good.

"Yes, husband? You're so pretty." The alcohol is making me sleepy and has taken my filter. Not that I have much of one while I'm sober.

"Stop flirting with the help. We just got married."

I make my way around the car, only having to lean on it a little – yay me. "You seem tense. I would be happy to help you with that."

Owen grabs my arm and pulls me through the lobby of the beautiful hotel. The Chihuly glass on the ceiling is probably my favorite part of this stuffy building. It seems so out of place with its bright colors and uneven shapes.

Like me in the world I was born into.

Owen shoves his hotel key against an elevator card reader, and it opens for us. I'm shoved inside, tripping over my own feet.

"That's no way to earn a blowie."

"I don't want a blowie as you so eloquently put it. Sex is overrated." Owen picks at his fingers for a second before he straightens his shoulders and slides his hands into his pockets. It's interesting to see that little blip of the real man. Even drunk, there's a part of him that is still trained to act right in public.

"Are you a nervous nelly?" My words are garbled, but I hope he understands them. "Don't worry, husband, I won't force you to lose your virginity tonight." I pat his cheek.

He tries to shove my hand away but misses, and I laugh.

"I'm not a virgin, not that it's any of your business."

"You're my husband. It is my business. I have to know how careful to be with you." I attempt to wink but end up blinking at him.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to a penthouse. Of course it does. The Godfreys probably have some kind of rental agreement with them.

"Good night, Colin." Owen bolts for a room to the right without a backward glance and closes the door. While I don't hear the lock being turned, I'm sure it has.

I didn't expect to share a bed with him tonight, but cuddles would have been nice.

I'm so tired I don't bother looking around for another bedroom. In front of me about ten feet is a living room with a couch big enough for me to lay down on. It's all I need.

My head hits the pillow, and the world goes black.

I wish I were dead. Then my head wouldn't hurt so much. What the fuck did I do last night? Why did I drink so much?

I crack my eyes open and am happily surprised to find it dark. What time is it? As I blink the blurriness from my eyes, I'm confused. Where the hell am I? Slowly, I manage to sit up and look around what looks like a hotel suite or penthouse.

Owen.

Fuck.

Did I marry him?

Glancing at my left hand, I'm happy to see there's no ring but…my stomach rolls when I stand up, and I have to brace myself on the back of the tan couch while my head spins. Fuck. I need to puke and take a hot shower. Then I'll feel better.

"Owen?" My voice sounds like I've been eating glass. I find a glass and some water in the kitchen along with some pain pills. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Cassie.

I ignore the call for now. I have to find out just how fucked my life is first.

From the entry way of the room, I can see all the doors are open, so I go in search of my maybe husband. Jesus cunt Christ. Did I really marry a Godfrey? And the straight one for that matter?

The first bedroom smells like Owen, but the bed is unslept in. What the hell? He was drinking with me last night. There's no way he didn't pass out.

I check the attached bathroom to make sure he's not on the floor, then the rest of the penthouse, but there's nothing. He's gone.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up his number, but it goes to voicemail.

"Fuck." I run my hand through my long hair and hold it at the back of my neck. "Owen, I need you to call me back when you get this."

Where the hell did he go?

I search the penthouse again, looking for a clue or a note and stop when I find a polaroid on the coffee table of me kissing Owen with a very tall Dolly Parton behind us.

My stomach rolls again, and I race for the bathroom just in time to puke in the toilet. Gasping for breath, I hang my head.

I've really fucked myself this time. Dad is going to be furious, which he'll take out on Cassie. All his threats to disinherit me will become a reality, so I won't be able to protect her. I'll get kicked out of school since I won't be able to pay for tuition, lose my spot on the fencing team, and be left to the mercy of the Godfreys.

I give myself a few minutes to panic before forcing myself to calm. Plan. I need a plan. Where would Owen go? Who would he call when in distress?

Oliver.

Finding my phone, I pull up Isaac's number. There's no way in hell Oliver will answer my call. Especially if Owen has talked to him already. Has Oliver told him to lock down everything? Is that why his phone is off? Is he holed up somewhere, hiding until they can come up with a plan to fix this?

I growl in frustration and run my hand through my hair.

Isaac. I need to talk to Isaac.

Despite my hands shaking, I hit the call button next to his name and lift it to my ear.

My breath is trapped in my lungs as I wait…and get sent to voicemail. Son of a bitch.

Fine. Fuck it. If they're all going to ignore me, fuck them.

Straightening my shoulders, I look around for any of my stuff that I might have dropped and leave the hotel suite. If I left anything, I'll just replace it. I don't care.

Fucking Godfreys and their high and mighty attitude. This isn't a them problem, it's an us problem. If they really think they can make decisions that affect my life, they've got another thing coming. I will make their lives a living hell if they fuck with me or my sister.