Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire (Accidentally Marrying #2)

Chapter 1

chapter

one

Evelyn

My best friend, Finley Blake, waits until dessert to spring her gift on me.

This is how I know she means business. Otherwise, she’d be more up front. Now, though, she’s lulled me with wine and carbs. She’s literally buttered me up so I’ll have less defenses against her generosity.

We’re sitting in our usual booth at the little Italian place down the street—the one with the too-big portions and the waiter who calls everyone hon. I’m halfway through my tiramisu when she reaches into her bag and slides a sleek black envelope across the table.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“A course correction,” she says cheerfully.

I squint at it. “What did you do?”

“Open it.”

Inside is a card. Thick paper. Embossed lettering. Dramatic flair.

WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS: AN IMMERSIVE MURDER MYSTERY EXPERIENCE

I blink.

Then blink again.

“Finley,” I say slowly, “what is this?”

“A gift!” She grins, unapologetic. “I booked you an adventure.”

“I don’t do adventures,” I say. “Remember? I alphabetize my spices. Color-code my lesson plans. Wear the same outfit every Wednesday.”

Her eyes narrow, and she points her fork at me. “His words sound even dumber coming out of your mouth. First of all, everyone alphabetizes their spices. It’s how you’re supposed to do it.”

It’s on my tongue to disagree and argue that plenty of people just have their spices randomly shoved into a cabinet, but I can see she’s not done with her tirade.

“You being organized and structured is not the same as boring. And it’s not like Kurt was Mr. Spontaneity,” she snaps.

“He truly wasn’t.” And I know she’s not talking about the sex, but it’s where my mind goes. Every Tuesday and Sunday afternoon. Always the same position. No orgasms for Evelyn.

“He called you predictable and boring,” she continues, steamrolling ahead. “Which is rich, considering his idea of excitement was switching from beer to IPA.”

“An IPA is a kind of beer.”

She tilts her head, considering, then waves my comment aside. “That only proves my point.”

That makes me smile. “We just… grew apart.”

She shakes her head. “No. You grew smaller,” she says gently. “And I refuse to watch you apologize for taking up space.”

My throat tightens, which is rude because I was having such a nice time not feeling anything.

“This trip,” she says, tapping the envelope, “is to remind you that you are fun. And interesting. And capable of doing something wildly out of character without asking permission or making excuses. To remind you who Evelyn Barlow is without that parasite sucking the life out of you.”

“I didn’t ask his permission for anything,” I argue.

“Maybe not verbally,” she agrees. “You just stayed when he stopped making you happy. If he ever did that. He did not deserve you.”

That one lands, and my eyes grow misty. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Just speaking the truth over here,” Finley says.

I look back down at the card. “Vegas,” I murmur. “A murder mystery.” My lips flex in an almost grin.

“Costumes. Characters. Plot twists. You’re supposed to stay in character the entire time,” she adds. “You’ll be amazing.”

“I will absolutely overthink it.”

“You will absolutely thrive,” she says. “Because for once, no one expects anything from you. You get to be someone else for a few days. And it will help you remember who you truly are. Not Kurt’s girlfriend or ex.

Just you. Because you are amazing, and I want you to remember that.

I hate that he stomped on your confidence. ”

I close the envelope slowly.

A few days of not being careful.

Not being predictable. Not being safe. Not questioning if I added too much spice to the food, and therefore causing distress to Kurt’s sensitive stomach.

“When is it?” I ask.

Her smile softens. “Soon. Like… pack-your-bags soon. I’ve already booked your airfare, too. With transport to and from the airports.”

“Fin, this is way too much. It had to have cost you a small fortune.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “I have plenty of money. You know that. More than I’ll need in this lifetime and the next.” She gives me a sugary-sweet grin. “That’s what happens when you marry a rich man.”

My friend is incredibly generous. Not only with her money, but also with her heart.

She reminds me frequently that she had very little to her name when she became a nanny for her now husband.

He’d been a star quarterback then, and now he’s the head coach.

Maybe some people foolishly assume she married him for his money, but only people who’d never seen Finley and Maddox together would think that.

“You married for love,” I say.

She shrugs. “True. The money is just a nice bonus to having a smoking hot husband.” Then she waggles her eyebrows at me.

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

“I’m a visionary.”

I meet her eyes. “You really think this will help?”

She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I’m certainly not going to force you to go,” she says, her tone softening. “But I think the weekend will be fun for you and beneficial.”

I sigh. “You’re still blaming yourself for introducing me to Kurt, aren’t you?”

“You wouldn’t have wasted the last fourteen months if it hadn’t been for me,” she says.

“That is not on you. He’s a great team physical therapist. He’s a nice person. There was no way you could know that he wouldn’t be an equally great boyfriend,” I say.

“Forget Kurt! Go to Vegas and play a real-life game of Clue. Eat amazing food and have fancy drinks. Go live it up for a weekend, then you can come back to Austin and go back to your regular life. But let me spoil you with this.”

“I do love Clue. And Scooby Doo,” I add.

“See? You’re totally equipped to go there and solve that mystery.”

I snort laugh. “Doubtful, but I do imagine I’ll have a good time.”

Something warm stirs in my chest. Not confidence—not yet.

But curiosity.

“Okay,” I say finally. “I’ll go.”

Finley beams. “Good. And Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

“If you accidentally fall in love with a stranger or solve a fake crime or do something completely unhinged…”

She shrugs. “I’ll consider that a bonus.”

I laugh, a real one this time.

As I slide the envelope into my bag, I have no idea if this trip will change my life.

I just know—for the first time in a while—I’m actually looking forward to leaving town.