My Vegas Groom (The Greene Family #3) by Piper Rayne


Chapter One





“I’m sorry, and you are?”





Nikki





I roll over on the Egyptian cotton sheets and plush mattress, my bladder screaming to release the abundance of alcohol I must’ve drank last night. I assume that’s what happened, given the fact that my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth as if I ate a cotton ball.

I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. I cannot believe Molly is up before me. I usually have to drag her out of bed.

Pulling the covers off of my body, I slide from the bed and tiptoe through the dark room. I trip on some clothes, but catch myself before I plummet to the floor. Seriously, what did we do last night?

I walk into the bathroom, thankful Molly’s chosen not to turn on the lights because my brain could not take it right now. Plus, I really don’t want to see what I look like.

Molly’s been my best friend since we were young and it’s not like I’ve never peed in front of her, so I drop my boxer shorts and sit on the toilet, groaning from the pounding in my head.

Molly’s suggestion of an impromptu girls’ trip to Las Vegas was a great idea. I needed to get out of our small town of Sunrise Bay. Especially since two of my stepbrothers have recently found love. Well, Adam’s was found again, but seriously, whoever thought that skeptic Cade would fall in love? Sure as hell not me, even if he has a soft side. Now all heads are turned in my direction because I’m the oldest daughter in the Greene family. Everyone thinks I should want a family and kids and all that shit, and do I? Truth is, I don’t know. Having Jeff Greene as your dad has a way of fucking you up where white picket fences are concerned.

Molly and I were having fun on our trip until she dragged me to that ridiculous MMA fight last night. We watched two men beat the crap out of each other for fun. I tried to humor her, but it’s barbaric.

Finally, I release my bladder and it feels so good. “How on Earth are you up this early in the morning?”

Molly doesn’t answer right away, but I hear the water turn off.

“I’m so hungover,” I say. “Please tell me you want to go grab a greasy breakfast downstairs?”

“Whatever you want,” a deep voice says.

Not the soft, giggly voice of my best friend.

I can’t even process that before the shower door opens and a naked man with tattoos sprinkled all over his body of bulging muscles steps out. I can make him out from the glow of the night light on the counter. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. Was he with Molly last night? Oh shit, I shouldn’t be seeing him naked.

“I hope I didn’t wake you. I just had to get all that crap from last night off and a shower always makes me feel better.”

“I’m sorry, and you are?”

He chuckles. “Your husband, of course.”

He grabs a towel off of the rack next to the shower and wraps it around his waist, but I’m still sitting on the toilet, mouth agape, staring at him.

But I glance at my left hand and find a sizable rock there. Meaning he’s telling the truth. I am his wife. And now another Vegas statistic.

And I’m peeing in front of my new husband—who’s also a stranger. He must realize my shock and horror at the same time I do because he chuckles and repositions the towel around his waist while water drips down his chiseled abs and body made of steel. It’s only then that I notice some bruising on his rib cage and the side of his jaw.

“The fighter,” I whisper.

He winks.

He’s one of the fighters from last night. The guy who was beating the shit out of the other guy in that ring. There was kicking and punching and blood everywhere. It was the goriest thing I’d ever witnessed, and I hated every second of it. But Molly loves MMA and managed to get last-minute tickets for us, so I wasn’t gonna disappoint her. Then again, I didn’t know she’d gotten front row seats. While she was cheering the whole time, I mostly sat in disbelief that people found amusement in watching someone get beaten to a bloody pulp.

“After watching you throw up last night, this is nothing.” He motions to where I’m still sitting on the toilet.

My face feels as if it’s beet red. I threw up in front of him and now I’m peeing in front of him? My God, what else did I do?

He doesn’t miss a beat, continuing on with the conversation. “So I got a call from my manager.”

“Manager?” At this point, I’m not sure if I should just stand up and assemble myself or continue to sit while he carries on a conversation.