by Kimberly Fox
“I only had one drink,” I explain, trying to machete my way through my hazy memory to figure out what happened. “And I got it straight from the bartender. He never touched it.”
She’s still staring at me with jealous eyes. “He’s so hot.”
“He’s okay,” I lie. He’s definitely more than okay. He’s absolutely gorgeous. If he was a Greek God, he would be the God of sexy smiles, obsessive crushes, and goosebumped skin.
“We have to figure out what happened,” Emily says, looking very serious. “Think back to the moment that led up to you sleeping with him.”
“What’s the point?” I ask with a sigh. It’s not like I’m going to be able to keep my job after this morning’s disastrous meeting.
Emily is looking at things a little differently. “What’s the point?” she asks, staring at me in disbelief. “This is beyond you, Dahlia. This is bigger than just you.”
“I know,” I nod, seeing her point. “I want to save the factory too.”
“Not that,” she says, crinkling her nose up. “You slept with the hot son of a billionaire. Teach me your ways. Please!”
I wish I could help her out, but I have no idea what happened. It’s all a murky fog of regrets.
“Let’s go through your purse for clues,” she says.
She hops off my desk and grabs my purse before I can say no. “We’ll take a look-see,” she says, turning it upside down on my desk. Tons of pennies come raining down on my desk and I cringe as the rest of the contents come pouring out after them.
“What is this?” she asks with a wide grin.
“What is that?” I ask, staring at the big box of Magnum condoms in shock. I was in such a hurry this morning and was so focused on trying not to puke that I just grabbed my purse without looking inside. If I had, I definitely wouldn’t have missed that.
“Magnums,” Emily says with a smirk. “I knew it.”
Well, that explains the sore hoo-ha.
“Looks like you had fun last night,” she says, peeking inside. “Only three left in a box of twelve.”
I grab a loose condom off the corner of the desk and toss it at her. “Four left.”
Emily is grinning like a perverted Nancy Drew. “Either you had seven other cocks inside of you, or Mr. Billionaire is a sexual stud that fucked you eight times. Either way, the plot thickens.”
Something that I’ve never seen before catches my eye in the pile of makeup, keys, and other crap. I grab a flowered necklace from the pile and turn it around in my fingers.
“Is that a lei?” Emily asks. “Add one more lay to the eight cocks. Did you fly to Hawaii or something?”
I shake my head as I stare at it.
She grabs it from me, tosses it on the pile of junk, and grabs a pamphlet. “What’s this?” she asks, unfolding it like an accordion. “Sunshine Happy Church? Did you join a cult?”
My stomach drops as I see my name scribbled on the sign-up form. Oh, my God. I joined a cult!
She tosses the pamphlet back on my desk and picks up a handful of pennies. “Why do you have about ten dollars’ worth of wet pennies in your purse? You’re like a homeless lady.”
“I have no idea.” I guess that explains why my purse was so heavy today.
“Well, that’s it,” I say, stuffing everything back into my purse. “No more clues or explanations. Just a bunch of junk.”
I toss the condoms into the trash and then pick them up and stuff them back into my purse after thinking twice about it. I don’t want the cleaning lady to think I’m a huge whore who got rammed by at least eight monster cocks.
I grab the last thing off the desk, my checkbook, and gasp when I see what’s under it.
“No!” I shout, throwing the checkbook back on it. It’s not there if I can’t see it.
“Is that what I think it is?” Emily asks, smiling like a professional gossiper who just found out the juiciest secret in the history of secrets.
“No,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. It can’t be. Life can’t be that cruel.
But somehow, I know that it’s true. I get a quick flash of last night. I’m wearing white. There’s plastic pineapples everywhere. A Bible with the back cover ripped off.
Oh, God.
“I have to do it,” Emily says, grinning as she slowly reaches for my checkbook. She picks it up and then slams it back down over the diamond wedding ring, staring at me with wide eyes.
“I must have found it,” I say, swallowing hard as my heart races. My breaths start coming out quick and ragged. But I remember the feeling of it on my finger. It was a little too big. It was so shiny.
My mouth is so dry as I shake my head, desperate for an explanation. “Someone must have dropped it. I must have picked it up to give it back to them.”
Emily is trying to stifle her giggles as she watches me. I’m not convincing her.
I’m not convincing myself.
She goes to lift up the checkbook again.
“Don’t,” I say. I can’t handle the truth of what’s under there.
Why was I wearing white?
She doesn’t listen and slowly lifts it up. Just as I feared, there’s a diamond wedding ring sitting on my desk.
“Holy shit,” Emily gasps as she stares at it.
Holy shit is right.
“Did Tyler McMillan buy you this?” she asks, lifting it up.
I feel like Gollum as I have a fierce urge to rip my precious out of her hands. I sit on my fingers instead.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head. “I must have found it.”
Emily rifles through my checkbook and grins when she sees the last check. “You have a check written out to The Pineapple Chapel for eighty bucks. Sounds classy.”
I rip it out of her hands and my mouth drops open when I see my drunken handwriting scribbled on the check.
“Look,” I say, showing it to her. “The check isn’t even ripped off. It’s all good. Everything will be okay.” Please, everything be okay.
Emily just shrugs, not looking too convinced. “Maybe he paid. He is a billionaire after all.” She raises her eyebrows. “So are you if you are indeed married. Can I borrow some money?”
I grab the ring and checkbook out of her hands and stuff them back in my purse. “Out,” I snap. I’m way too hungover and tired to deal with this right now.
“Are you two going to have kids?” she asks as I point at the door.
“Get out.”
“Maybe you’re pregnant right now,” she says with a chuckle as she gets off my desk.
“Now!”
“Don’t worry,” she says, laughing as she walks to the door. “I won’t hold this rude outburst against you. It’s probably just the pregnancy hormones kicking in.”
“I’m not pregnant!” I shout as she gets to the door.
“It’s okay,” she says with a grin on her frustrating face. “You’re a married woman now. We don’t know to whom, but we’ll find out.”
She ducks out of my office and quickly closes the door as I throw my purse at her. It slams into the door and falls to the floor. I hold my breath as the ring rolls out onto the cheap carpeting, mocking me.
I can’t be married.
I don’t want to be married.
I can’t have a successful career if my brain is preoccupied with thoughts of love all the time. If my parents taught me anything, it’s that.
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath as I stare at the ring. I don’t remember what happened, but I remember that I wore that ring before.
And I’m pretty sure I know who slid it on my finger.
It’s ten minutes until five o’clock, and I’m still pacing my office, trying to build up the courage to go talk to my new boss.
My new boss who may also be my new husband.
I glance back at my window on the fifth floor. Maybe I can jump out and escape. Maybe I’ll get lucky and land on my head.
Someone walks by my office, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I take a deep breath as I see Martha shuffle by the window.
This has been the single worst day of my life and that’s saying a lot. I grew up with two hippie parents who let their kid do all of the adult stuff, so I’ve had my share of bad days.
All afternoon, my mind kept racing to every worst-case scenario possible.
Maybe when I try to tell Tyler that I think we got married, he’ll fire me, close the factory, and sue me for everything I have.
Maybe I married a homeless man.
Maybe I married a goat.
People start getting up and putting their coats on as the clock ticks closer to five. Computers get turned off, and happy hour plans are being made as I peer through the blinds at Tyler’s office. His door is still closed.
Just go. Just do it.
It’s easy to say, but it’s another thing entirely to get my feet moving.
Emily walks by my office with her coat on and starts giggling when she sees me. She stops and stands straight, holding her purse like a bouquet and starts stepping down the hallway like she’s a bride walking down the aisle.
I hate her. So much.
My stomach starts rolling again as she disappears and I turn back to the closed office door. This is all just a big misunderstanding. It’s nothing.
I open the door of my office, pretending like I’m not about to throw up, and step out into the hallway.
I’ll just tell him the truth, we’ll get it fixed, and then we’ll both break out laughing.
My hand slides over my stomach as my veggie wrap from lunch threatens to make a grand reappearance in front of everyone.
This may even be a good thing. We’ll probably share a laugh and become closer. Maybe we’ll even be friends.
I dry heave when I arrive at the door, and it’s settled: I’m swan-diving out of my five-story window instead.
His door swings open when I’m spinning on my heels about to make my high-heeled getaway.
“Dahlia,” he says from behind me. Every muscle in my body clenches in panic.
I slowly turn around with dry unblinking eyes. Even his impossibly good looks can’t make this situation any better. Somehow, it just makes it worse.
“I have to talk to you,” I say. My voice is so hoarse. My mouth is so dry. It feels like I slept in the desert.
“Should we go in my office?” he asks, rubbing his chin as he stares down at me. “Or would we be more comfortable in my hotel room?”
I march into his office without acknowledging his sexual invitation with a comment. He chuckles as he follows me in and closes the door, watching me as I sit down in the chair in front of his desk.
“What can I do for you, Miss Dahlia?” he asks as he sits behind the desk. He stares at me with interest, probably not knowing what the hell to expect.
Whatever he’s expecting, it doesn’t have shit on what I’m about to bring up. I toss the ring on the large oak desk between us and wait for his reaction.
“Are you asking me to marry you?” he says, looking down at it with a furrowed brow. “It looks a little bit small for me.”
“I found this in my purse.”
“And I found a Tic Tac in my pocket, but I didn’t throw it on your desk.”
I cross my arms over my chest as we stare each other down. “What happened last night?”
He leans back in his chair and raises his chin, all while keeping his bright green eyes on mine. “I don’t remember.”
“That makes two of us.”
We stare at each other with tight eyes and clenched jaws, not saying anything for at least thirty seconds.
I raise my eyebrow as I break the silence. “Did you put something in my drink?”
“Did you put something in my drink?”
I huff out a laugh. “Why would I put something in your drink?”
“I don’t know,” he says, watching me as he rubs his chin. “Because I’m rich and you want my money? Because you’re trying to get pregnant? Because I’m hot and you want my big dick? I don’t know the reasons why crazy broads drug men.”
My mouth drops open. The balls on this guy.
“Are you saying I’m a crazy broad?”
He shrugs. “Are you saying I’m a rapist?”
We stare at each other for another few tense seconds.
His eyes drop to the ring on the desk. “What’s with the ring?”
“You tell me,” I say. “I found it in my purse with a check written out to The Pineapple Chapel.”
His face drops.
I lean forward. “What?”
He opens his shocked mouth but nothing comes out.
“What is it?”
He shakes his head as he closes his eyes. “I thought that was a novelty gift or something.”
“What?”
“I found a marriage certificate in my hotel room from The Pineapple Chapel. It had my name on it with another ridiculous name.”
Oh, shit.
“It wasn’t Dahlia,” he says. “It was-”
“Rainbow Solstice the First.” We both say it at the same time.
It’s my real name. The one that only my hippie parents use.
“That’s me,” I say, turning red as he looks at me with confusion. Even after twenty-eight years, I’m still ashamed of that stupid name. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”
“About your name, that we slept together, or that we’re married?”
I clear my throat. “All of the above.”
He leans forward, staring at me like he’s trying to see into my skull. “We got married? What the hell?”
“Do you remember anything about last night?”
He shakes his head. “I remember meeting you at the bar.”
“Me too.”
“Then we had that drink.”
“Your idea,” I say.
He just ignores me. “Then you stormed away, and I wasn’t feeling very well so I started walking back to my hotel room. That’s all I can remember.”
“That’s all?” I ask, sitting on the edge of my seat.
He looks around like he’s sifting through his perverted mind and then shrugs. “That’s all.”
I exhale in relief. He doesn’t remember the sex. Thank God.
“Do you remember the night?” he asks, tilting his head slightly as he looks at me. “Or the sex?”
I shake my head like there’s a spider trying to crawl into my ear. “No. Definitely not.”
“But we still had sex,” he says. His green eyes start to wander over my body like he’s trying to figure out what his damaged memory is making him miss out on.
“It didn’t really happen if neither of us can remember it.” Did it? I’m sure there’s an old dead philosopher somewhere out there who would back me up on that.
His eyes drop down to my chest and he smiles. “Should we start the honeymoon now?”
“No!” I snap back at him. “I want an annulment.”
His face lights up in a smile. “Sure, we can do it in the butt. I’m down for whatever.”
“Not anal, you moron. Annulled.”
He bites his bottom lip as he looks out the window to the beautiful view of the Vegas Strip in the distance. “Although, this could be good,” he says. “My parents will give me the company now.”
“What?” I ask, leaning forward. “You’re not actually running the company? Then what was all of that big talk in the meeting about?”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “They won’t sign the company over to me until I’m married.”
“So, you’re not in charge?” Maybe I can save the factory after all if I can make a good impression on his father, the real billionaire owner Mack McMillan.
He shrugs. “I am now. I’m married.”
“I’m not staying married so that you can con your parents into giving you their lifetime’s work. I want an annulment.”
“Okay,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll set it up.”
I also want to talk to him about his father’s p
lans for the Summerland factory, but now is not the time. I just asked for a divorce, it may be a bit much to ask for a favor right now.
We agree to let this little incident slide and never talk about it again.
“Thank you,” I say as he walks me to the door. “I really like working for this company, and I don’t want a night of… well, whatever the hell that was, to ruin it.”
“It won’t, Miss Rainbow Bright,” he says with a grin as he opens the door for me.
The look I give him makes him take a step backward. “My parents were hippies.”
He’s trying to stifle his smile.
“Big hippies.”
“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” he says as I walk out. “They are my in-laws.”
“Not funny,” I say to him over my shoulder. “Get the annulment. Right now.”
“Yes, boss,” he says, throwing me a salute.
I walk back to my office feeling better than ever. Tyler doesn’t remember the sex, he’s not my real boss, we’re putting an end to the mistake of a marriage, and the day is finally over. Now I get to go back to my hotel room and crawl into bed like I’ve been fantasizing about all day.
My other boss, Mr. Wallace, pokes his head through the doorway. “Can I speak with you, Dahlia?”
“Sure,” I say, waving him in. Even he can’t ruin my mood. “I’m sorry about last night and this morning,” I say, shaking my head as I place my palm on my chest. “I don’t know what happened. I haven’t been feeling like myself since I got here. And I’m sorry about insulting Kenny Loggins. He is truly a musical genius.”
He lets out a breath and smiles. “No worries,” he says, nodding like all is forgiven. It was the Kenny Loggins comment that did it.
“You’re the only one I can trust,” he says, walking into the office. “I have a meeting with Mr. McMillan senior tomorrow at lunch, but I have to head back home to Summerland early.”
“Is everything okay?” The Mr. Wallace I know wouldn’t miss a meeting with billionaire Mack McMillan for anything short of an emergency.
“Yup, yup,” he says, nodding as his eyes cloud over. “My son and his friends were caught tattooing their teacher’s forehead, but I’m sure it’s not as serious as it sounds. He’s at that rambunctious age right now.”
