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“We didn’t get married. Why do you keep asking me that?” Is he still drunk?
“Because I got these fucking pictures sent to me this morning,” he says, handing me his phone.
I stare down at the open email and curse. There, in color, are Natalia and me, hugging and kissing in front of Elvis at the Little White Chapel, getting married, and a copy of our marriage license.
“What the fuck!” My heart starts to beat uncontrollably in my chest. Am I having a heart attack? Is this what heart attacks feel like? I think marrying Natalia Fiorenzo warrants a heart attack.
“I could ask you the same thing?” he says, and I hand him his phone back.
“They can’t be real. It’s AI or something. Is someone trying to extort me?”
“It’s real.”
“Fuck,” I curse as I rake my hand through my hair. “Why the hell would I do that?”
Nico raises that pointed brow at me again. “I don’t know. Why would you marry your enemy’s daughter?”
“Fuck you. You think I did this on purpose?” I ask.
He shrugs, not answering my question. Why would I fuck things up by marrying a Fiorenzo? Things are already on thin ice between my father and me.
“Who took the photos then?” I ask.
“One of Francesca’s team,” Nico explains.
His cousin, of course. “And we can still kill the story, yeah?”
“Francesca doesn’t want to, this is huge,” he explains.
Panic turns last night’s alcohol into acid in my stomach.
“But I will,” he adds.
Thank fuck.
“Such a shame, this story would be huge and make me a lot of money.” He chuckles.
“You asshole. My misery shouldn’t make you rich.”
“Don’t do stupid things then,” he bites back.
“I didn’t even know I did something stupid,” I argue with him. I throw my hands up in the air and start pacing.
“You’re lucky we’re friends, otherwise, this could have been a shit storm.”
“If Natalia and her family find out, it’s going to be a shit storm,” I tell him.
“She’s a smart girl. I don’t think she wants this getting out any more than you do.”
This is true. She has as much to lose as I do. “This is messed up.”
“Welcome to Vegas.” Nico chuckles.
“You’re not being helpful,” I tell him.
“I told you, you were married. What more do you want me to do?” Nico grins.
“I don’t know,” I yell at him as I continue pacing around the room.
