The Wedding Contract

Chapter 7





I don’t have my key card. I left it with Spawny downstairs. Super suck. When I get to my door, I knock. I know he’s in there. Nick disappeared from the lobby way before me and I would have seen him through the massive amount of floor-to-ceiling glass windows downstairs.

A second later, he pulls the door open. Nick has his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Are you sure? Nothing? All right, thank you so much.” How does he do that? It always sounds like he’s so nice, but the man is a snake. He destroys everything he touches, like one of those demigods in Amy’s stories.

Nick runs his hand through his dark hair and tosses the phone on the bed next to my bags. “Well, it looks like we’re roomies. Every other place on the island is booked solid and no one has an extra room. So much for small town life, huh?”

My jaw opens and I make a repulsive face without thinking. “You are not staying with me.”

“Yeah, I think the sentence you’re looking for is, ‘thank you for not throwing me out on my ass.’” His eyes dip to my butt. The shower curtain clings tightly and I’m pretty sure I have a wedgie. I’m losing it. My lower left eyelid twitches and the more I try to steady it, the worse it gets. Nick sits on the bed and lays back. Staring at the ceiling, he asks, “Your head isn’t going to spin in circles is it? If so, let me know and I’ll sit up and watch.”

Every muscle in my body is corded tight. The mental strings that tie this hot mess together are coming undone and all I can manage to do is stand here mashing my lips together. When I finally speak, my body is vibrating with DEFCON 5 cray-cray. “I hate you.” Holy understatement, Batman.

“Really?” He has the audacity to sound surprised. Nick lifts his head and looks at me with that stupid smile on his face.

“Yes, really! You’re destroying my business and ruining my life! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you get hit by lightning or something? God knows you deserve it.”

He shrugs and lies back down. “He can’t smite something this awesome. Besides, then who would be left to ruin your life?”

“Don’t mock me. We both know what you’re doing. Don’t pretend to be stupid and charming with me. It won’t work.”

“What if I just opt for charming?”

“A*shole.”

“I call dibs on the bed, by the way,” he says without looking up. “I might as well live up to the accusations.”

“I was here first, so the bed is mine. You can sleep in the hallway.” I don’t want to open my bag in front of him—I packed some nice panties in there and they’re right on top. Weddings are full of surprises and I didn’t want to have grannies on if things took a turn for the best. Obviously, that’s not going to happen, but I still need to get my clothes out, while holding up the shower curtain, and hiding way too many lacy, thongy things. I manage to get the suitcase unzipped and shove a hand inside.

Nick has his hands behind his head. He looks over at me. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Did you know that?”

“Your life expectancy will significantly decrease if you sleep in here tonight.”

“You should really go home.”

“You should really cancel your contract and stop stalking me.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Well, neither am I. Sophie’s my friend and I promised her some things. I’ll be damned if I let you shove me out.” Where the hell is my dress? My fingers loop around the strap. Finally. It should be right under the mountain of panties, so I give it a quick tug with one hand while holding the curtain up with the other.


Two words: underwear everywhere.

It’s like a panty explosion in a rainbow of colors. The little lacy bottoms go flying, as the dress emerges from my bag. Several pairs land on Nick’s face. I press my eyes shut and try not to scream. Jumping up and down and yelling won’t help. It won’t.

Nick sits up and suppresses a grin, as he peels panties off his face. He holds up a pair of satin butterfly bottoms and sticks his fingers through the opening, looking impressed. “Are you sure that you’re not the slutty bridesmaid? Because these crotchless babies are just the kind she’d wear.”

I snatch them away and shove them into my bag. “The slutty bridesmaid doesn’t wear panties at all, jackass. Damn, how many weddings have you shot? She’s not wearing anything but her dress, and will flash her titties at you later. You go to her room for the night and I’ll push you off a cliff tomorrow. I hope you have worker’s comp.” Translation: Go to Hell.

Nick actually laughs. Wonderful. The guy has a death wish. As I disappear into the bathroom, he calls out, “Are you sure you don’t take meds?”

“I hate you!” I yell through the door.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you covered that part already.”

What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I press my head to the closed door and try to calm down, but I can’t. I have to live with the man who’s destroying my life for the next five days, while also trying to convince my mother that I made the right career choice. This was supposed to be my opportunity to show off my mad skills, not have some lowlife complicate everything.

Two people can’t be in control of one wedding, which is why there’s a non-compete clause in my contract. But it’s too late now. I can’t tattle to Sophie without causing tension between her and her father-in-law, and I don’t want to do that. That leaves me only one option.

I have to kick Nick Ferro’s ass in every conceivable way.