His Every Desire (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Alexis Winter

  I pick up my glass and toss it back, needing the liquid courage. My head starts to spin as panic rises in my chest. My blurring vision begins to become dark around the edges, and all I can hear is my blood quickly pumping through my ears.

  “Trent, are you okay?” Mia asks, but she sounds distant, far away.

  “I…” I start, but everything goes black.

  I wake up in the morning, and my head is pounding. I groan and roll over to my side just as vomit makes its way up my throat. Luckily, there’s already a trashcan beside the bed, and I spill the contents of my stomach into it. I groan as I lay back onto my back.

  “Would you shut up?” Mia groans from beside me.

  I look over to find her holding her head. She’s completely naked, and that makes my brow arch.

  “What? What happened last night?” I ask, pulling the blanket up over her body. By lifting it off of myself, I find that I’m naked too. From the looks of it, we hooked up again. Fuck. How many times am I going to fuck this girl over? I want her. God knows I want her. But I can’t have her. When I’m sober, I know that, and I can keep my distance. But after a few drinks, I forget that I can’t have her, and I take her anyway.

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after you passing out and getting you to the room.”

  My eyes shoot open. “I passed out?” I ask.

  She nods, holding her arm over her eyes to keep them closed.

  I think back on my night. I remember drinking heavily at dinner. I remember by the time we left the restaurant, I was shitfaced. I remember sitting down and talking with Mia, and then nothing. It’s all gone.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit with a Mack truck,” I mumble, forcing myself to sit up. The room spins on its axes as I do so. “Whoa,” I mumble, trying to keep myself from falling over. “Maybe I need a shower.” I stand up and bump into every wall and corner on the way, but finally, I make it to the shower and turn the hot water on. Stepping beneath the hot flow, I sit down and hang my head, letting the water pour over my hair. I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them, trying to stop the spinning. How fucking much did I drink last night?

  I bring my hands up and rub them over my face, hoping to wake up. But something smooth and metal scratches the side of my nose as I do so. I pull my hands away from my face and look at them, wondering what just scratched me.

  There on my left ring finger sits a gold wedding band.

  WHAT THE FUCK?!

  I stand up, shut off the water, and run from the bathroom. Mia is still lying in bed with her left hand tucked under her pillow. I reach for her arm, and she smacks me away.

  “Go away. I feel like shit,” she grumbles.

  “Mia, give me your goddamn hand,” I demand.

  My harsh tone causes her eyes to pop open, and she lets me pull her hand out from under her pillow. There on her left ring finger is a matching gold band.

  “Oh fuck,” I mumble, falling backward and landing on the second bed.

  Her eyes lock on the ring as she sits up with wide eyes. “What the fuck is this?” she asks, looking from her hand to me, and back.

  I hold up my left hand for her to see my ring.

  She shakes her head. “No. We didn’t. We couldn’t have,” all come out of her mouth in a fucking rush.

  “Surely, there would be paperwork or something, right?” she asks, looking over at me.

  I just shrug, wondering what in the hell happened.

  She jumps up and starts digging through our stuff.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask.

  “The clothes we wore last night. Where’s my purse?”

  Minutes later, she freezes from her place on the floor. “Oh, fuck!” she yells.

  “What?” I ask, sitting up.

  “We did it. We fucking got married last night.”

  “It’s not possible. I mean, there are laws in place to stop this sort of thing from happening. We didn’t even have a marriage license.”

  She stands up and hands over the paper. Sure enough, we’re fucking married.

  “How? How the fuck could this happen?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the paper.

  She sits down across from me and wraps herself up in the sheet. “I’ll call Dani and Levi. Maybe they know something.”

  She dials their number and puts it on speakerphone.

  “Hey, how you feeling?” Dani asks.

  “Like shit. Listen, Trent and I, we need you to fill in a few gaps from last night.”

  She laughs. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

  “After Trent passed out in the bar, we brought him up to the room, right?”

  “Yeah, and you came back to the casino with us,” Dani says.

  “Okay, then what?”

  “Well, we had some more to drink, we played some games, and then we all went back upstairs.”

  “You’re absolutely sure I came back to the room?” Mia asks.

  “Yes. I even helped you with your key card. You went back into the room,” Dani confirms.

  “Then how did it happen?” Mia breathes out.

  “How did what happen?” Levi asks from somewhere in the background.

  “You guys won’t believe this,” I say, rubbing my head.

  “What?” Levi asks.

  “We got fucking married,” Mia finally says, causing Levi and Dani to burst out laughing.

  “How did this happen?” Dani asks.

  Mia looks at me. “We must have gone back out. That’s the only explanation.”

  I nod. “But how in the hell did we get a marriage license?” I smack the paper.

  “You got a marriage license?” Levi says, intrigue in his voice.

  “Yes, man. It’s completely legal and binding. We’re fucking married. Got rings and everything.”

  Dani and Levi both laugh. “The chapel we got married in, they sold wedding bands for twenty bucks apiece. You must have bought them.”

  I pull the ring off my finger and inspect it. On the inside rim, 24k gold is stamped inside. “I don’t think so, man. This is real gold.”

  “No way. It’s impossible. No jewelry store would be open that late at night. We didn’t come back to the room until almost one A.M.”

  I pull out my phone and click on my banking app. The last charge was for five thousand dollars at Taylor’s Jewelry! I hold the phone up so Mia can see the screen. She lets out a deep breath and hangs her head.

  “We’ll talk to you guys later after we figure this thing out,” Mia says, hanging up without saying goodbye.

  I throw myself back on the bed. “How did we pull this off?” I ask, looking over at her to see her grab the phone.

  “Who you are calling now?”

  “Room service. I need to eat to get rid of this hangover.”

  “Seriously? You’re worried about food at a time like this?” I ask, my voice rising on its own.

  “Hey, I can’t think without a clear head, and my body needs something to soak up all this alcohol. So yes, I’m going to eat so that I can think a little more clearly. Would you like to join me?”

  “I guess you do have a point. Order me something,” I request, pulling the blankets down on the second bed and crawling beneath them.

  I’m in and out of sleep as she orders us both something to eat. I don’t wake up completely until someone is knocking on the door. I roll over to see Mia up wearing my t-shirt and sweatpants as she goes to answer it. She wheels in the cart, her eyes locking on mine.

  “Food’s here.” She grabs a plate and hands it over before taking her own and sitting down to eat.

  We eat in silence as we focus on the TV. Neither of us talks. To be honest, I don’t even know if we’re focusing on the TV or just lost in our own thoughts while we try to figure out what in the hell happened last night.

  When Mia finishes eating, she gathers her clothes for a shower.

  “What are you doing? We have to talk about this.” I hold my hands up at my sides.

  “I t
hink better when I’m alone,” she says, moving to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

  “Fuck,” I mumble, laying back on the bed. “How could I have let myself be so irresponsible?” I close my eyes and try thinking back on last night. All I get is flashes: a glass case full of sparkling diamonds, Elvis, kissing—lots and lots of kissing. I see myself smashing her against the elevator wall while my hands and mouth roam her body. Carrying her to our room where we strip our clothes off before even making it to the bed. Everything goes black.

  Maybe if I tell Mia what I remember, it will jumpstart her own memories, and she’ll remember more than I can. I start writing down the things I remember. As I try to think, my mind wanders to what it would really be like to stay married to Mia. I can see us having romantic dinners, making love multiple times a day, and even the children we could bring into the world. But then I’m reminded of why I couldn’t be with her to begin with. I’m always gone. Already I can hear the fights we’d have, see the things I’d miss out on. This would never work between the two of us. Our best bet is to get a divorce when we get back home, break things off completely, and forget our past. I should let her move on and be happy with another man—hell, that Jason guy will work.

  No, it won’t. I hate that guy with his smug face and cocky smile, and his stupid flashy Rolex and Aviator sunglasses. I scoff at myself. No man will ever be good enough for her. She deserves more, more than me who’s gone all the time, more than Jason, who’s a rich douchebag. She deserves love, attention, time, affection, all of it.

  The door opens, and Mia walks out wearing a small pair of black shorts and a tight, white tank top. She’s braless, and I can see her hard nipples through the shirt as she walks back to the bed. Her blonde hair is wet and hanging to nearly her shoulders.

  I’m lost. She’s sexy as fuck, and now all I can think about is sinking deep inside her where I belong. Her body was made for me. It fits around me perfectly in every way.

  “Wipe that look off your face. I’m in no condition for what that face is saying,” she says, laying down and wrapping the blanket around her.

  I laugh and take a deep breath. “I thought that maybe if we wrote down what we remember, we’d be able to piece things together.”

  She nods.

  “So, what do you remember?”

  She closes her eyes, thinking it over…or trying to go back to sleep, I’m not sure which. “I remember being in the casino with you, but that doesn’t make sense since you were in the room when the rest of us were in the casino.”

  “Doesn’t matter, just go with it. Don’t try to make sense of it. What were we doing in the casino?”

  “I don’t know. I just remember looking for something—I don’t know what. Then I remember talking to a man.”

  “What was his name? What did he look like?”

  “He was older, and he was drunk. I want to say his name was Jimmy? James? Jake? Something with a J.”

  I write that down. “Okay, what else?”

  Her eyes open, and she looks annoyed. “I remember walking down the road in the dark. But we weren’t alone. There was someone else, but I don’t know who he is or what he looks like. I just remember this feeling of not being alone.”

  “Do you remember any street signs or landmarks?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Okay, that’s okay. Anything else?”

  “The elevator,” she states, and her face blushes.

  “I remember that too,” I laugh out.

  “So, maybe we should go by this jewelry store and see if anyone there remembers us.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” I repeat.

  “Yeah, what’s the point? Who cares how we managed to get married? The fact of the matter is, we’re married!”

  I shrug as I toss the paper onto the table between us and lay back on the bed. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Question now is, what are we going to do?”

  My head lulls to the side as I look at her. It’s easy to see that she isn’t feeling well. Her pale skin is almost green. Her lips are pooched out into a pout, and her eyes have dark circles around them.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” I say, holding my arms out.

  She comes to me without question, and I wrap her body up in mine as I throw the blankets over us. Holding her close, we both drift off into a deep sleep.

  We somehow manage to sleep for the rest of the day, not waking up until Monday morning when our phones start ringing like crazy.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “It’s time to go. We’re going to miss our flights. Get your ass up!” Levi says.

  My eyes flash to the clock to find that it’s going on nine in the morning.

  “Fuck,” I mumble, throwing the blanket back and standing up as I toss the phone down. “Mia, get up. We’re going to miss our flight.”

  Her eyes pop open, and she gasps. “We slept through Sunday?”

  “Looks like it,” I say, scratching my head. The sleep allowed the hangover to go away, but now my back and neck are stiff from laying down so damn long. How is it even possible to sleep that long?

  She jumps up and starts stuffing her clothes into her bag while I do the same. We both pull on mismatched clothes, and we’re in the lobby within twenty minutes.

  “You guys look like hell,” Levi says, laughing as he walks in a circle around us.

  “Thanks,” Mia mumbles, pushing her frizzing, unbrushed hair behind her ear.

  “Key cards?” he asks, and we both hand them over.

  “I’m going to check out, and then we’ll grab some breakfast at the airport,” Levi says, laughing and walking away.

  “Screw breakfast. I need coffee,” Mia mumbles, rubbing her eyes.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me. “Go to sleep, honey. I’ll carry you around,” I say, flirtatiously.

  She groans and smacks me in the stomach before standing upright on her own.

  When Levi is back, the whole group moves toward the doors, and we pile into a taxi van.

  It feels like it takes forever, but we finally land back in Chicago, and we all say our goodbyes, hug and go our separate ways. Mia walks off, heading for the doors, and I chase after her.

  “Hey, where you going?” I ask, grabbing her hand.

  “Home, where do you think?”

  She comes to a stop at the road and flags down a taxi. One stops abruptly, and she climbs inside. She’s about to close the door, but I slide in next to her.

  “Where are you going?” she asks, surprise written across her face.

  “To your place. We’re married now, remember? We have things to figure out.”

  She grumbles something under her breath and shakes her head but doesn’t argue.

  7

  Mia

  “WHY are you knocking at your own apartment?” Trent asks when I come to a stop at my neighbor’s door.

  “This isn’t my apartment. This is my neighbor’s. She kept my cat for me this weekend.”

  Mrs. Welsh opens the door, and Mandela runs out with a loud meow. He jumps into my arms.

  “Hey, honey. Did you miss me?” I ask, nuzzling her head.

  “I’d say,” Mrs. Welsh says. She’s done nothing but stand at this door meowing from the moment you walked out.”

  I giggle. Hearing that makes me feel better. At least someone missed me. “That’s nice to hear,” I mumble. “Thank you, Mrs. Welsh.”

  “No problem, dear. Mandela kept an old lady company this weekend. I’m here anytime.”

  Trent follows along behind me as I carry Mandela to my apartment. I put the key in the lock, and the door opens easily. The moment we’re inside, Mandela jumps from my arms. She runs through the apartment and into the spare bedroom, where I’m sure she’s checking to make sure all her stuff is there.

  “Oh, I see what you really miss. It wasn’t me. It was your hidden catnip,” I yell after her.

  Trent laughs, drawing my a
ttention back to him. For a moment, I forgot he was here. “What are you laughing at?” I ask, dropping my bag onto the floor.

  “You, bickering with your cat. You really are the crazy cat lady, aren’t you?” He offers up his panty-dropping smile.

  I shake my head as I ignore him, moving toward the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  “What kind of name is Mandela anyway?”

  “Google it,” is all I tell him as I walk into the kitchen.

  Minutes later, I’m sitting down on my couch with a hot cup of tea.

  “Really? People really believe this?” he asks.

  I look over at him to find him reading something on his phone. “What?” I ask.

  “The Mandela Effect is an observed phenomenon in which a large segment of the population misremembers a significant event or shares a memory of an event that did not actually occur,” he reads off the definition of The Mandela Effect to me.

  I laugh. “You’ve seriously never heard of this?”

  “No, this is crazy!” he states. “You believe in this?”

  I move my head from side to side. “Yeah,” I state, matter-of-factly.

  He laughs, shakes his head, and goes back to his phone.

  “You’re telling me you remember everything exactly how it says?”

  “Yes,” he blurts out. “In fact, I’m going to make it my mission to prove to you that nothing has changed. You and a large group of people apparently are just remembering it wrong.”

  “Yeah exactly, that’s the point! How can a large number of people all have the same false memory? It’s because of the Mandela Effect!” I pull my legs up onto the couch and tuck my feet beneath me as I turn to face him. This serious of a topic needs to be addressed early on in a marriage.

  “This sounds like a bunch of horse shit. There has to be a scientific study or something explaining it.”

  “What studies?”

  “I don’t know, but there must have been studies on it. What’s impossible is this theory and how many people believe it.” He laughs, still in complete disbelief.

  “Come on,” I say, standing and moving up to my desk where I turn my computer on.