Chapter 2
2
KATRINA
I wiggle my nose. Soft bedsheets brush against my skin, a pleasant contrast to the pounding in my skull and the creeping nausea twisting in my stomach.
Slowly, I tug the sheet down. Sunlight pours through the open curtains, bright and merciless. I wince, squeezing my eyes shut against the sting, but the light pierces through my lids. Groaning, I turn my head away before cracking them open again.
The ceiling above. The furniture. The shape of the room.
Botsford Plaza Hotel. Las Vegas. My home away from home.
How did I get back to my suite?
I push myself upright— slowly. My mouth tastes like stale regret. My breath is even worse.
On the bedside table, a glass of water waits. A yellow sticky note clings to the side, bold black letters scrawled across it.
DRINK ME
Next to it, a second note sits beneath two small white pills.
TAKE ME
I obey without question, my hungover brain reduced to following simple commands. Drink. Take. Eat. Pray. Ugh .
Eventually, I’ll get up, check my phone, take a…
Shower.
It’s already on.
I blink at the bathroom door, sitting slightly ajar. A thin ribbon of steam curls through the opening.
Who is in my shower?
Who put out the water?
Who…
A navy blue robe lies neatly at the foot of the bed with another sticky note slapped over the Botsford Plaza logo embroidered on the pocket.
I shift forward—and freeze.
My hand flies to my chest.
I’m naked. Very naked.
I peek under the sheets. Panties on, at least. But the rest? Gone.
Why am I very naked?
Swallowing hard, I snatch the sticky note off the robe.
PUT ME ON
ORDER ROOM SERVICE
DON’T LEAVE
I arch a brow.
Don’t leave? But why would I?—
I scan the room. The ruffled couch. The mini-fridge. The TV. Looks like my suite.
Except that’s not my view.
And that’s not my suitcase.
And those aren’t my shoes.
This isn’t my suite.
It’s…
I roll off the bed, shoving my arms into the robe as I shuffle toward the bathroom door. Heart pounding, I inch forward, craning my head around the frame.
Steam blurs the details, but the figure inside is unmistakable.
Tall. Lithe.
Blond.
His back is to me, hands in his hair, working shampoo into a lather. Suds glide down his skin, lines of muscle hazy through the mist.
Then he moves.
Not much. Just enough for me to see half of his face.
Logan Shock.
I jolt back, brushing against another sticky note plastered to the door frame.
DO. NOT.
LEAVE.
“Oh, no,” I whisper.
What the heck happened last night?
I retreat from the bathroom door, my mind a tangled mess as I scan the room for anything that belongs to me. Digging through my muddled memories, I retrace my steps.
Addison and I ran through Here Comes the Bride one last time before we got dressed. We met Chrissy and Jordan at the hotel bar downstairs. Marla and her mother, Angie, joined us for a quick round of bubbly before we all rushed up to her bridal suite—just in time to avoid the guys arriving for Jonah’s bachelor party. Then, we?—
Jonah.
I stop cold, my breath catching at the mere thought of his name.
Was it ever me, Jo?
“Oh, no,” I say again, my heart twisting so tight I swear I can hear it crack. Like it might splinter apart all over again.
That… really happened, didn’t it?
Not a nightmare. Not a fantasy. Because if it were, it would have ended the way it always does—with Jonah kissing me, sweeping me off my feet, carrying me toward some long-lost happily ever after.
God, I’m so stupid.
I shake it off, focusing on my handbag draped over the armchair by the window. As I grab it, another yellow sticky note stands out against the dark blue suede.
DON’T
I crumple it, tossing it aside in favor of digging through my bag for my phone. The screen lights up with several missed calls and messages. Most of them from Addison.
Addison
Hey, you okay?
Where are you?
What happened with Jo? You looked upset.
Girl?
Addison and Harvey. They saw me in the hallway. Their faces flash through the haze, standing out sharper than the rest.
But what happened after?
How did I end up here?
I ran. That much I remember. Past them, down the stairs. I hit the golden-lit lobby and kept going. I made it outside and?—
Hello, kitty.
A shiver rolls through me as I scroll through the rest of my texts.
Addison
What happened?
Answer the door, sweetie.
OK! Getting scared now.
On my way down to the front desk. Ira’s gonna MASTER KEY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE ASS if you don’t reply ASAP!!!!
I quickly tap out a response.
Katrina
I’m okay! Slept in. Getting dressed now.
A voice drifts from the bathroom—soft, melodic. An effortless humming that melts into a quiet lyric or two. Faint, but familiar.
Too familiar.
All of America knows that voice.
Ignoring Addison’s instant reply, I start hunting for my clothes instead.
No sign of my sundress from last night. Not in the closet. Not in the dresser drawers. Not slung over a chair, or crumpled on the floor.
What the heck happened last night?
Why can’t I remember anything that happened after…
Hello, kitty.
My gaze lands on my shoes, neatly lined up by the door. I lurch toward them, my path scattered with more yellow sticky notes.
STOP
DO
NOT
LEAVE
WE
HAVE
TO
TALK
I barrel over them, jamming my right foot into its match—only to yank it back out when something crinkles against my toes.
ARE YOU EVEN
READING THESE?
I fling it aside, along with the one stuffed into the left shoe, too.
One last note waits by the door.
PLEASE
My hand hovers over the knob, but solving this mystery will have to wait. I’m already late for the Botsford breakfast, the first of many, many events today.
It’s Jonah’s wedding day.
I double-check my robe, tying it tight before slipping into the hallway. My only goal? Get to my suite before anyone sees me.
I’m pretty sure the last time I was this exposed in public, I was being pushed out of a birth canal. And that is sure to raise some questions I’m far too hungover to answer.
The most obvious explanation?
I spent the night with Logan Shock.
I slept with the enemy.
Didn’t I?
Unfortunately, I don’t know.
Even more unfortunately, I don’t have time to find out.
I stab the elevator button, stepping inside the second the doors slide open. The hallway is empty, and—thankfully—so is the elevator.
I hit 23 and lean against the wall, exhaling as the doors start to?—
A flash of yellow enters my vision.
A sticky note stuck dead center on the inside of the elevator door.
BAD KITTY