Elvis coughed. “Alright. That’s nice. We have another couple now waiting to get hitched.”

Chance pulled away.

Completely dazed, I looked up at him. His hair was all messed up from my fingers running through it. His stare was penetrating, and he looked just as bewildered as me.

What the fuck just happened?

The mood changed as we exited the chapel and found two couples waiting in the lobby. The first couple looked like they might skip the wedding and go straight for the honeymoon—right there in the lobby. The groom was dressed in an American flag suit consisting of red pants, a blue jacket spotted with stars, white shirt and a red and white striped tie. When he released his vacuum suck of his future fake bride’s face, he lifted her into his arms, and I saw that she had on a matching outfit, only hers was an American flag bikini.

“Do you speak Russian?” he asked Elvis, who had followed us into the lobby with Zelda in tow.

Elvis shook his head. “Bilingual services are extra. You need an appointment.”

“How much extra?”

“One hundred and fifty dollars. We have to pay the translator.”

The patriotic groom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of bills. He frowned, and his fake bride started shouting something in what I could only presume was Russian. She stamped her foot and flailed her arms as she ranted.

Chance snickered and leaned into me. “And I thought you were a bitch.”

“Hey.” I smacked at his abs.

He smiled, and I was torn between being sad that the sexual tension had ebbed and being relieved we seemed to be back to our version of normal. Chance held his hand out to me. “Mrs. Bateman?”

Shit. I liked the sound of that. A lot.

I put my hand in his, and Zelda ran over. “Would you like to do your wedding photos inside or outside? We have a lovely gazebo and pond out back. There’s even a swan in the pond. She has an injured wing, but she looks beautiful in the background of photographs.”

“We’ll do them inside,” Chance responded quickly.

“But the swan sounds nice.”

“We don’t have room for another pet. I’m not letting you near that thing.”

I rolled my eyes. “We can just skip the pictures.”

“Not a chance, Princess. Harry needs one of those babies.” A dirty grin tempted at the corner of his lips as his eyes dropped to my chest. I had some serious cleavage trying to spill out in that form fitting dress. “Plus. You…in that dress…that’s top of the toilet tank material right there.”

“Pervert.”

We posed for four pictures; it was reminiscent of dreadful prom photos. The last photo, Zelda made a suggestion. “How about something romantic now?”

I cocked my head and challenged Chance, laughing. “Yeah, sweet talker, how about something romantic?”

Zelda changed the background we were standing in front of. No longer were we standing in front of the famous old, neon Las Vegas sign. We were now transported to a honeymoon suite of some sort. The background had a photo of a large bed filled with rose petals and candles were lit all around the room. It was so ridiculously cheesy, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on. It’s our fake honeymoon night. There’s our bed. Don’t you have something romantic to say?”

Chance glanced back, got a load of the scene and turned back to me. “I’m not exactly the romantic type.”

“What a surprise.”

Chance’s eyebrows lifted and then he stared at me for a second before he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “How’s this for wedding night romance. If that were our bed, and I was lucky enough for you to be my wife.” He paused and took a breath in, exhaling warmth on my neck. “If I was lucky enough to get to have you, I’d own every inch of that body. For the first time in your life, you’d give up that control you cling to so tightly. I’d demand it, and you’d willingly give it to me.” He practically growled the rest. “That bed. I’d fuck you full of romance.” He pulled his head back to look at me. Our noses were touching, but neither of us leaned in to formalize the connection. It wasn’t necessary.

Zelda interrupted, “Beautiful. I think I captured the moment. I guess you’re a romantic after all, Mr. Bateman.”

Chance smirked. I stood in place, unable to move. “Lucky for me, it seems my bride likes my brand of romance after all.”

Chapter Ten

We were both sober by the time we arrived back at our hotel, although a big part of me still felt off kilter. I was drunk, just not from alcohol any longer. We were both still wearing the cheap metal bands that were keepsakes from our fake wedding, and when we arrived at my hotel door, Chance scooped me up off my feet.