Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)

I wake up early despite the late night. It’s like this for me anytime I travel to the West Coast. The time change is always a motherfucker. I crack open an eye, my head feeling a little muddled from the two shots and the extra champagne I didn’t need to drink. And with thoughts of those shots and all that champagne, a jolt of adrenaline hits my blood. I lift my left hand in the air, and even in the dark I can see the flat, black band twisted around my ring finger.

I glance to my left and find Sorel still passed out. I have no idea how she’s going to wake up today. In fairness, I tried to talk her out of it. I told her she’d regret it. She swore she wouldn’t. She was drunk. Very drunk. So drunk she was staggering a bit in her heels and had to hold on to me.

I gave her about ten different outs, and she plowed past each one, determined to do something wild. Something crazy. Something that would show Brody up and get rid of him once and for all. It’s not how I pictured this would go between us, and though I’m not so thrilled to be her revenge, I didn’t know how to say no and have it stick either.

Let me rephrase. I didn’t want to say no.

In the moment, it seemed like an adventure. Something that would tie her to me as more than her friend, even temporarily. But now I’m not so sure that was the way to do it. How can I win her heart when, with the first sober breath she takes, she’ll be trying to figure out how fast we can get this marriage annulled?

I peel myself out of bed and quickly throw on my gym clothes and sneakers. Sorel’s phone has been kept on Do Not Disturb, so I find a piece of hotel stationary and write her a note telling her where I’m going and that she needs to make it so that my number can reach her. I’m pretty sure she already has that for Serena.

For a moment, I take in the pretty lines of her face. The dark sweep of her lashes as they flutter ever so slightly as she dreams. How her full pink lips are parted and her hand sporting the princess-cut diamond eternity band I bought her is tucked up by her face.

I had her sleep in my room last night even though I didn’t touch her. She was too drunk to sleep alone, and by the time the ceremony was over, I had to carry her. I didn’t go near her clothes. She’s still in the dress she wore out last night.

Fuck.

I run a hand over my face and through my hair, edgy and anxious about how this day is going to play out. There will be repercussions. That’s for damn sure.

I leave the room, needing to burn off this unsettled energy, and I find my way to the gym they have exclusively for the villas and presidential suites. It’s not even six in the morning on a Sunday in Vegas, so it’s no shocker that I’m the only one here. I hit the treadmill hard, running at nearly a sprint for a mile and then backing off to a fast jog.

Sweat drips from my face and runs down my neck and back. I need to talk to the guys. I need to tell them what happened and what I did. But first I need to talk to Sorel and see where her head is. I can feel the ring on my finger—heavy, but far from uncomfortable. I like its weight. I like feeling it there.

I married Sorel, and I’m not freaking out about it the way I should be. Not even a little. I said my vows, and I meant them. She’s it for me. The woman I want to be married to. Not just for today, but forever.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” she asked me once about five or so months ago. She was upset. She’d had her cake tasting and Brody didn’t show up. I happened to be in the neighborhood, and by luck, we ran into each other. I talked her into grabbing a coffee with me and we sat there in a café chatting while I tried to make her smile and laugh. At the time, I blew her question off. I told her that one day after I met the right girl, I would.

“When you find that girl, make sure to remember the little things like wedding cake tasting,” she grumbled bitterly as she stared down at her cappuccino. “It’s the little things that matter most to us.”

“Like being there with coffee and corny jokes when your person is sad?”

She glanced up at me and rested her hand on mine. “Exactly like that.”

I startle out of my memory, nearly falling off the treadmill when my phone rings and cuts out the music blaring through my AirPods. It’s Brody, and now I laugh as I answer through my watch with a tap of my fingers while I slow my pace on the treadmill to a walk.

“Hey, man. Good to hear from you. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going?” he barks incredulously in my ears. “Are you fucking kidding me with that, Reyes?”

I grab my towel, stop the treadmill, climb off, and walk over to the weight bench. The towel drags across my face, forehead, and the back of my neck as I sit down. “Not so good then?”

“Fuck you with that.”

I smile. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. I take it you got the picture Sorel sent you.”

Sorel and I took a selfie with our ringed hands showing. She unblocked Brody just long enough to send it to him and then immediately blocked him again. It was a savage move, and I think Sorel is pretty badass for doing it.

“Tell me it’s fake.”

“It’s not. I’m looking at my wedding band now.”

“What the fuck?!” he bellows, and I stand to pull two seventy-five-pound barbells off the rack. “How are you even involved in this? How are you with her?”

“I was in the right place at the right time,” I explain as I lie back on the bench, get into position, and start to do bench presses with them. “But I can tell you that you’re easily the dumbest motherfucker on the planet. How you could cheat on a woman like her is beyond me. And then to run your mouth to the press about how it’s a simple misunderstanding and lie about your phone being hacked while keeping your shiner averted from the camera is deplorable. It’s condescending and disrespectful to the woman you already disrespected. How did you think she’d react after seeing that?”

“I was giving her a way to come back to me without it looking bad for either of us.”

“You’re so full of shit, man. That move was one hundred percent about you and your image and had nothing to do with her. You don’t deserve her, and you never did. Not even close. You have no right to your anger. You put yourself in this position. Now Sorel is my wife and not yours. Get over it and move on.”

“Move on?” He breathes out a laugh. “You think this is going to be easy for you? You’re a fool. Let me guess, she got drunk, and you took advantage.”

I grin. “Drunk, for sure. Other than that, you’ve got it all wrong, but whatever makes you feel cute and cozy at night when you think about me with her.”

“I will ruin you,” he seethes.

“If you weren’t such a selfish, self-serving prick, you’d realize the only person you ruined is yourself. Your loss equals my gain. Thanks for that. But while we’re trading threats, stay away from Sorel. She’s no longer yours.”

I disconnect the call with another tap of my fingers and continue my bench presses, pushing myself harder and wishing I picked up the hundred-pound weights instead of these. After I finish my set, I put them down and pull my phone from my pocket. I text Sorel, curious to see if she’s awake and did what I asked her to in my note.

Me: Let me know when you’re awake and how you’re feeling.

Much to my surprise, she replies immediately.

Sorel: I’m awake and feeling like someone put me in a blender and turned it on to full speed.

Me: I’m going to send someone up to give you an IV.

Sorel: For real? They’ll do that? I’m almost ashamed to call myself a doctor for how unprepared I am for this.

Me: Yep. They do. Brody called me.

My phone rings in my hand, and I swipe my finger across the screen to answer it, her soft voice filling my ears.

“He did? Why?” she immediately asks only to follow that up with, “Oh Mylanta, I sent him a picture of us last night.”

I snicker. “Yes, you did. We had a nice little chat where I told him to fuck off.” I wipe more sweat from my face and drop to the floor to start pushups. “I explained that he was an idiot for cheating and running his mouth and that you’re my wife now and not his.”

“You said that to him? That I’m your wife?”

I freeze in a plank. I can’t tell by her voice if that bothers her or not. “Yes.”

“Hmm. Um, okay. Why do you sound like that? You’re grunting and out of breath.”

“I’m doing pushups. I left a note telling you I was at the gym.”

“Right. Sorry. My brain is like scrambled eggs frying in a pan.”

“What did you think I was doing?” I smirk because now I know why her voice sounded like that. I like that her mind went there.

“I’m not commenting.” She giggles lightly and then groans. “Ugh. My brain hurts, and my stomach feels like it’s dancing a bad version of the Macarena. Oh, and I have a diamond band on my hand.”

I chuckle. “That’s because I put it there.”

“I remember. Sort of. I don’t think I appreciated it last night, though. Mason, what were you thinking with this? I mean, it’s gorgeous, but holy hell. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I was thinking that’s what you deserve to be wearing, and I wanted to be the one to put it there, princess.” I pause, wondering if maybe that was too much. If she even gets the symbolism of the ring. Princess-cut diamonds in an eternity band. “Do you remember the ceremony at all? You pretty much passed out on me after it.”

“Is that how I ended up in your bed? I’m going to assume since I woke up in my dress nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened,” I tell her, pushing my body up and down a little faster. “I put you in my bed because I didn’t feel comfortable letting you sleep alone.”

She groans. “Oh my god, Mason, we’re married. What the hell was I thinking? I talked you into it. I all but begged. Do you hate me?”

“Not even a bit. Do you regret it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I won’t lie and say I’m not freaking out too. This is why I don’t drink a lot. Alcohol, especially tequila, makes me do wild things when I otherwise wouldn’t, but I believe that was the point last night.”

“It was. So here we are.”

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“We do,” I agree.

“First, I need that IV. I can’t have a real conversation about anything serious when I feel like this. I won’t even tell you what I threw up twenty minutes ago.”

“Ugh. Sorry, princess. That sounds rough. I’ll get that set up for you and return with coffee and breakfast.”

“That would be incredible. You’re incredible.” She pauses. “Mason?”

“Yeah?” I stop in a plank again at the sound of her soft, hesitant voice.

“Thank you.”

I smile, feeling my chest flutter. “No problem. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I shoot off a text to our butler and personal concierge asking if someone can get Sorel set up with an IV, and they tell me they can have their in-house medical team up to start one in ten minutes. I return to my pushups, feeling a little better that she didn’t sound angry or upset. Hell, I was worried she wouldn’t remember any of it considering how drunk she was.

This is uncharted waters for me. I’ve never been in love with anyone before, let alone someone who doesn’t want me back. But now we’re married. I’ve already kissed her twice. Our friendship is on a new path—at least I hope it is—and I need to get my footing.

I finish my workout and linger in the gym a little longer because it’s quiet and I need to assemble my thoughts. I wanted to date Sorel, not marry her—at least not yet and certainly not like this—but I need a strategy. A game plan. Because I don’t hate the idea of being married to her. Not even a little.

I call my dad because I’m going to have to tell him and my mom sooner or later, and I trust my parents like no one else.

“Hey!” my dad greets me. “How’s it going?” There’s a noise in the background, and I hear him yell, “That’s good defense, Jorkin. Keep it up. Sorry,” he says, coming back to me. “These rookies are greener than the ones last year.”

I smirk. “You said that about the ones last year.”

“True. I meant it then, and I mean it now. Anyway, I was going to call you in a bit to see if you wanted to meet up and get some reps in this afternoon.”

“I’m in Vegas.”

“Vegas?” Shock laces his tone. “How’d that happen? Training camp starts next week, Mason.”

“I know. I’m, well, I’m in the gym now if that makes you feel better, but I’m actually calling to give you the news.” I go through the entire story from soup to nuts, and when I’m done, he’s not saying anything.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m thinking.” He laughs. “Jesus, Mason, I can’t believe you got fucking married in Vegas last night. And to Sorel Fritz.”

“I know, but I…” I trail off, my forehead in my hand.

“You want her.”

I stare down at my band. “Yes. I want her.”

“Coach or dad?” he asks me, and I grin. On the field, he’s my coach and never my dad. At home, he’s my dad and never my coach.

“Both.”

“You have a hearing deficit. Something you’ve had to work with and against your entire life. You were in speech lessons to help with your pronunciation and learned to speak sign language. You sat in the front of the classroom because you didn’t always want to wear your hearing aids. You still don’t.”

“Dad, don’t start with⁠—”

“Shut up and listen, son. What I’m saying is, you’re no stranger to fighting against something you don’t have a lot of control over. You learned how to move on the field and trust your other instincts when your hearing wasn’t enough. People said I drafted you because you’re my son, but that’s not why I drafted you. I drafted you because you work harder than anyone else. I knew it and saw it. Yes, you’re talented, but you have that something else. That grit. That drive. Nothing beats you, you beat it. Do the work. Put in the effort. And if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. If it’s not, then at least you know you gave it your all.”

“Like you did with Mom?”

“She put me through my paces and made me earn her. She had a lot of distrust too. Especially with football players. In the end, I made her fall as hard for me as I fell for her.”

I grin. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Good luck.” He laughs. “You’re going to need it with what you just did.”

Yeah, no shit.

I disconnect the call and go down to the café off the lobby to order breakfast for both of us. A protein smoothie for me, and coffee for her. I could have ordered room service, but I want to give her a bit more time to finish her IV and start to feel better before I see her.

And I needed a bit more time to think all of this through.

When I walk into our villa, I notice the patio door is open, letting warm desert air trickle in and making me sweat all over again. Remnants of rose petals are still scattered about, and I set our food down on the dining room table and follow them. The soft music floating over to me that I recognize as “Glycerine” by Bush makes me smile, only to have the sight when I step outside rob me of my breath.

Sorel is in the pool, her arms folded on the patio hardscape as she stares out at the Strip beyond. From here all I can see are two red strings, one at the back of her neck and the other tied off around her back, and a hell of a lot of skin in between.

My mouth waters and my cock instantly hardens. This is exactly what I had fantasized about when I got this villa. This exact moment.

She hears me coming and turns her head over her shoulder, her hair wet and slicked back from her face. She doesn’t smile. Instead, she watches me with an indecipherable expression, and my heart starts to pound.

Without thinking twice about it, I kick off my shoes, peel off my sweaty gym shirt, and enter the pool in my shorts. The water is just cool enough that it feels good without being cold, and I sink beneath it quickly to wash off my sweat before I walk the few steps to her. She watches me approach, but before I reach her, she turns back to the view beyond the balcony. My hands meet the lip of the pool on either side of her, my chest close to her back without touching.

I pick up a floating rose petal and drag it along her shoulder and down her arm. Goose bumps erupt on her skin, and I suppress a smile, knowing I’m pushing her a bit beyond her comfort zone. Immediately, she snags on the ring adorning my left hand, and I note she’s not wearing hers. My gut sinks.

“Did the IV help?” I ask, trying not to feel as crushed as I am.

“It did, thank you. I feel a lot better.” She sighs. “I’ve been running through last night in my head. Going over what I remember and what pieces are either foggy or absent. I think I dreamt about the wedding too, so now I’m not sure what is real and what was my dream.”

“Do you need me to fill in any of those pieces for you?” I drag the petal back up and around her shoulders to the other arm.

Her voice shakes as she asks, “It’s real, right? The marriage. We went and filled out the license.”

“Yes.”

She nods and swallows audibly. “And the ring?”

“It’s real, too.”

“I thought so.” Her breath hitches, and her chin drops toward her other hand. That’s when I spot the ring in it. I take it from her and put it back on her left hand. She doesn’t stop me, but I know part of her wants to. I know she’s questioning and mentally challenging everything about this.

“It’s yours, princess. You should wear it.”

“Princess,” she whispers, her tone unsure as she finally notes the cut of the diamonds and pieces together why I bought it for her. She falls silent, the air thick and tense with our unspoken questions and confessions.

“Did I… did I ask you for… sexy lessons?” Her voice is so soft I have to strain to hear her.

I smirk and drag the petal around her shoulder blades. “You did. And to help you find your unexplored kinks.”

“Oh god.” Her face hits her hand. “I love it when I’m smooth like that.”

“You were funny, but I told you we’d revisit that when you’re sober.”

She stills. “So we didn’t do that? I didn’t make a move, and you didn’t make one either?”

“You were drunk,” I reply and shift some of her hair away so I can touch her neck with the petal. I don’t know why I’m doing this other than I don’t know how to stop myself. “I’d never touch you like that. Was that part of your dream?”

She emits a breathy laugh. “I’m not answering that.”

Desire shoots through my veins like a tonic, and I bring the petal up higher. “You were quick to take that selfie, and then you all but passed out. No moves were made last night. But we’re both sober now.”

I drop the petal in the water, and she shivers when the tips of my wet fingers meet the back of her neck where the strings of her suit rest. “What are you doing?” she asks shakily.

“Thinking about that conversation. Do you remember what I said?”

“You um, you said you’d love to help me do that.”

“I meant it. I would. If you wanted me to.” My lips meet her shoulder, and she exhales heavily.

“Mason.”

“I can help you explore anything you want to explore. Do anything you want to do.” My lips drag up beneath her hairline, and I take a deep inhale of her.

“What are you doing?” she asks again, her voice unsteady.

“Trying to give my wife the sexy wedding night she deserves,” I reply softly, my tongue sneaking out to steal a taste. “Since I didn’t get a chance to last night.”

“Mason…”

“Yes, Sorel?”

“I… we… we need to talk. We have to figure out how to get this annulled.”

“I know. You told me that last night when I agreed. I’m not arguing that. But since we’re here in Vegas and married for the time being, I’d like to kiss my wife again.” My hands move to her hips beneath the water. “Everywhere this time. If she’ll let me.”

“We have more to discuss.”

“We will,” I promise her. “But I can’t handle how sexy you look right now in your bikini.” And wearing my ring, I don’t add. “Please, Sorel. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. Let me make you feel good.” I start to kiss back up her neck to her jaw and ear. “So good.” I suck on her lobe and drag it with my teeth. Her hands clench the edge of the pool, and I can feel her shaking as I step in against her. “It’s still me. It’s still us. That won’t change.” More kisses right beneath her ear. “I’ve been such a good boy. Please let me have this. Please let me have you.”

My hands drag up her body and cover her tits that are full and soft and feel incredible even with the small triangle barrier. Her nipples are hard, poking through her suit, and I rub them with my palms as I cup and squeeze her.

She moans, her head falling back to my shoulder.

“Say yes.” I nip along her jaw to the corner of her mouth. “Tell me to keep going. Tell me not to stop.”