6
Red’s eyes fluttered open, her lashes heavy.
Everything was too white—white curtains, white ceilings, white fluffy pillows that didn’t belong to her broke ass.
She blinked again, the pieces of last night snapping together like glass after a bad fall.
What the actual hell…
She sat up so fast the blanket slipped off her shoulder.
“Oh my God.”
She remembered now. That party. That billionaire. That drunk idiot who dragged her up the stairs like she was a damn prize he won at a fair.
She saved him—ruined his engagement—ruined her own peace of mind—and now…
“What the hell am I still doing here?” she muttered, scanning the room for her bag, shoes, anything.
She jumped off the bed, half-sprinting to the floor to gather her things.
A thong.
A lipstick.
A crushed pack of gum.
She bent down to grab her shoe when a deep voice sliced through the quiet air like a blade.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Red froze.
Slowly and painfully, she turned around.
There he was.
Nico freaking Bellami.
Shirtless.
Tattooed.
Hair messy like he just woke from hell itself.
And worse?
Awake.
Wide awake.
She swallowed hard, clutching her bag to her chest like it was armor. “I’m… I’m going home,” she said quickly. “I saved your spoiled billionaire ass last night. You were drunk. Done. Story over.”
He scoffed.
Scoffed.
Like she was the one who ruined his life.
“You saved me?” he repeated, walking toward the minibar, grabbing a water bottle, cracking it open with that annoying rich-man ease. “You saved me?”
“Yes!” she hissed. “Your grandma thinks we’re a whole-ass couple now! Because you couldn’t handle your drinks and dragged me upstairs in front of half the world’s media!”
Nico turned, his eyes sharp like blades, scanning her up and down like she was a problem that needed solving.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said flatly. “Not until we fix this mess.”
Red blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You stay. You smile. You fake everything for Grandma. Because she’s already planning weddings and buying the lie that you’re my girlfriend. My fiancée or whatever.”
Red’s mouth parted in shock. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m dead serious,” he said, tossing the empty bottle into the trash like it was nothing. “You made this worse. You came in there looking like a stripper angel and now the whole city thinks I ditched the Valentino heiress for you.”
Red gasped. “You dragged me—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he cut her off. “They’ve already picked sides. Paparazzi love it. Grandma’s over the moon. She thinks you’re my forever. So here’s what we’re gonna do.”
Red’s heart thudded.
“You stay the fuck away from me,” Nico continued coldly, “You act. You smile. You pretend to be the good girl who made me leave the heiress at the altar.”
“And in return?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“In return,” he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, voice venomous, “you get to keep whatever reputation you have left. Unless you wanna go viral as the slut who seduced a billionaire at his engagement party.”
Red’s jaw clenched.
She wanted to throw her bag at his head. Or punch him in his rich-kid face.
But she couldn’t.
Because the press was outside.
And she was still in her damn thong.
So she straightened, held her head high, and muttered under her breath—
“This is going to be hell.”
Red stared him down, still trying to catch her breath and her dignity. Nico, on the other hand, looked like a storm wrapped in six feet of muscle and money.
His jaw clenched tighter with every second she stood in front of him like a confused cat.
He turned slowly, walked over to the dresser, yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a black credit card. Not just any card—one of those cards that could buy half the damn city.
Without looking at her, he tossed it on the bed like it was infected.
“Here,” he said sharply. “Get yourself some decent clothes. Designer. Expensive. I don’t care. Just make sure you don’t show up again looking like a walking scandal.”
Red blinked. “Are you serious right now?”
He didn’t answer. He just picked up his phone, shoved it in his pocket, then walked toward the bathroom like he couldn’t stand the air between them.
But just before stepping in, he turned to her—eyes cold, voice sharp.
“This is your last warning. Don’t mess this up. Act the part, stay out of my face, and when this dies down, we go back to being strangers.”
Then he slammed the door.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Red stared at the bathroom door.
What. Just. Happened?
She glanced down at the credit card on the bed and scoffed.
Was she supposed to feel grateful? Like some picked-up toy?
Behind that door, Nico leaned over the sink, gripping the edges with white knuckles, breathing like he’d just fought a war.
“Fuck,” he muttered to his reflection. “What have I done?”
The media, the scandal, the grandma… Her.
He splashed cold water on his face.
Of all the women. Of all the nights. He could’ve had a discreet escort, a fake friend, a professional PR person—
Instead, he had her.
A stripper.
An unfiltered, hot-mouthed, chaos-wrapped woman with a thong that probably cost $2 and a face that haunted him even when he didn’t want it to.
Me. Married. To a damn stripper?
He grabbed a towel and slammed it on the counter.
Red had just slipped out of the heavy hotel robe, too lazy to dig through the mess for something decent to wear. She stood there in her faded thongs and a loose old tee, hair like a tumbleweed and face still half-asleep. She’d just picked up Nico’s damn credit card from the nightstand, planning to toss it in his face when—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Before she could even say “who’s there?” the door creaked open, and in walked the last person she wanted to see.
“Good morning, lovebirds!” Granny chirped, voice sweet like honey with an edge of mischief.
Red froze. Wide-eyed. Her hand still midair holding the black card. Her bare thighs out for the world to see.
Granny blinked once. Then twice. And then the corners of her mouth curled into a sly, knowing grin.
“Oh dear…” Granny said, placing a hand on her chest dramatically. “Now, that is definitely not the kind of ‘thank you’ outfit I was expecting to see on my future granddaughter-in-law.”
Red nearly choked on air.
“What?! No! It’s not what it looks like—I didn’t—” she scrambled for the robe, tripping on her own feet.
Granny smirked even wider and leaned closer, voice lowering into a teasing purr.
“So… tell me, darling,” she said with a glint in her eye, “was he gentle last night… or did he take after his grandfather and nearly break the bed, hmm?”
“WHAT?!” Red squeaked, practically diving behind the bed like it was a shield.
And just then—
click.
The bathroom door swung open, and Nico walked out, towel low on his waist, water still dripping down his abs, hair a tousled mess.
“Who the hell is talking so loud—”
He paused.
Saw Red half-naked behind the bed.
Saw Granny smirking like a demon in pearls.
He sighed like he aged five years.
Granny turned to him, her face innocent but her voice sharp.
“Good morning, Nico. I see you’re still… hydrated.”
Nico shut his eyes, massaging his temples.
“Grandma. Please. Go. Home.”
Granny shrugged. “I just wanted to check in on your first night as husband and wife.”
“We are not—” Red started.
But Granny held up a finger. “Not in front of your husband, dear. Now, hurry up and get dressed properly. You have a brunch with the family in an hour.”