20. Isla
ISLA
The silence between Aiden and Isla stretched as thin as wire.
For a second, she thought she’d heard him wrong.
But her ears rang, and she blinked slowly, looking at the ridiculously gorgeous man in her hotel room. The room tilted—just slightly—as her lungs squeezed tight. Married. To Aiden Camden.
What?
In the shower, she’d been caught between wanting to take her time and racing back to him. Not that she should be dying to race back to him. But when she’d seen him tonight grabbing Tomas, stepping in to defend her like he had, it had done something to her.
Her goddamned panties had practically melted.
And that wasn’t supposed to happen with Aiden. She wasn’t supposed to want him. He wasn’t supposed to make her wet. His lack of a text message wasn’t supposed to make her feel needy and ignored.
She’d been miserable all weekend, imagining him in New York with Lola. And that had been more telling than anything else.
But now that she’d found out that she’d let her assumptions and imagination get the best of her, she was more aware than ever of his effect on her.
She wasn’t supposed to be standing in the shower, thinking about him just steps away. About how they’d be crawling into bed together. About how she’d offered in the first place— because she’d wanted him to say yes.
“Isla?”
His voice brought her back to his words. How long had she been standing there, staring at him with a vacant expression?
Then she laughed.
A nervous laugh, filled with disbelief and false hilarity.
It bubbled up her windpipe, choking from her throat. “That’s impossible,” she managed.
Aiden knelt beside a laptop bag, then pulled out an envelope. Crossing the space toward her, he held out a paper. “This came in the mail to my office in London.”
She took the paper from him and scanned it.
A marriage license for Nevada.
A real bloody marriage license bearing her name and Aiden’s.
What. The. Fuck.
“Oh...God.” She covered her face with her hand, then lowered it slowly. Then her eyes snapped to his. “Do you remember this?”
“No, I was just as stunned as you are when I found out.”
“And when did you find out exactly?”
His lips pursed. “A couple of weeks ago.”
“ What ?” She hadn’t meant for her voice to come out in a shriek. She shoved the marriage license back in his hands. “You’ve known for weeks that we’re legally married, and you didn’t tell me?”
This must have been what he’d been pussyfooting around in Texas.
“I wanted to tell you in person.” He slipped the paper back into the envelope, an edge of irritation in his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve already started the process of annulling the damn thing. We just need to meet with a solicitor and sign some paperwork. Shouldn’t be difficult.”
She glared at him, his words like blows. “Yes, of course.”
He frowned, an uncertain look flickering in his eyes. “That’s what you want, right?”
“Yes, Aiden. For God’s sake. Yes, I want nothing more than to forget that night ever happened, to be honest, but somehow, it keeps coming back and biting me in the arse.
All I wanted was a fun night with my friends, and instead, I ended up drugged, married, and committed to a production that is slowly becoming something vastly different from what I signed up for.
” She sank onto the bed, suddenly thoroughly spent.
“Hang on a second. Drugged?” Aiden raised a brow.
Fuck.
She’d never told him, had she?
“Yes, I think that man who was harassing me when you first came to my rescue in Vegas slipped something in the drinks you and I had.”
Aiden’s eyes widened.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
A slow, eerie silence stretched between them, pressing against Isla’s ribs like a vise. His fingers curled tight .
Then he raked his hand through his hair, taking a staggering step back. “What?”
She gulped, and her words came out in a rush. “He gave the drinks to Kelsey and Blair, apparently. And then they went to see the Eiffel Tower and left them on the table without drinking any—which you and I did.” Then she added with a stammer, “A-apparently.”
Why is he looking at me that way?
He lowered his hands to his sides. “And you’ve known about this since Vegas?” His voice was a rough whisper.
“Yes, but?—”
“And you didn’t say a word to me?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve tormented myself, wondering what happened?
How could I let myself lose so much control that I’d cross whatever lines we crossed?
That you believed—thought it possible—that I took advantage of your vulnerable state?
And all this time—you knew? You knew. I was as much of a victim as you were.
” His hands clenched at his sides, white-knuckled. “Holy fuck, Isla.”
A defensive feeling rose from her gut. “Is it any worse than not telling me we are married as soon as you found out?”
“Yes, it’s worse!” His voice was sharp. “I wanted to do you the courtesy of having this conversation face-to-face. You, on the other hand, didn’t intend to tell me at all.
You just saddled me with the guilt and moved on merrily with your life, filming and—” He stiffened, his face darkening.
“Is that it? Is that why you said nothing? Because you wanted to use my guilt to fund this production for your friend’s sake? ”
“No!” She stood, the offense hitting her like a physical blow. “That’s awful, Aiden. How could you even suggest something like that?”
“It makes the most sense. Why else wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because...” She squared off with him, mind scrambling.
Why didn’t I tell him?
She’d meant to tell him.
But then they’d been there in front of the Bellagio, and he’d been so hurt when he’d thought she’d accused him of taking advantage, so she’d just shut down the discussion, not wanting to talk about anything.
People talked about this sort of thing like it was romantic—like you could mistakenly get blackout drunk in Vegas and wake up in bed with someone. Married, even. The cliché was so ironically real, and the reality so much less fun than it’d been portrayed.
She drew a slow breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
Aiden was legally her husband?
“I’m sorry,” she managed at last, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
“You’re right. I owed you the truth about that—or what I suspect is the truth, anyway.
We did talk to security at the casino before I met with you, to tell them about what we thought had happened.
I was just exhausted, Aiden. The whole ordeal was awful—not you , of course—but I just didn’t expect to have this happen. ”
His jaw worked for a moment as he considered her words, flexing with tension. At last, he nodded. “I understand. And I apologize also. I should have told you about the marriage license as soon as I found out.”
She took his hand into hers and squeezed it. “It’s fine. You’re right. We’ll just face this together, annul it, and go on with our lives before Callum finds out and murders us both.”
He grimaced. “Don’t remind me. God, I feel like such a liar right now. How am I supposed to face him after all this?”
His thumb brushed against the back of her hand, gently, and her breath stilled.
And there it is.
That. An innocent touch that shouldn’t feel like a current that sets my pulse racing. Yet it did.
But it was dangerous and stupid, and she wasn’t about to put herself through the temptations Aiden offered when he was so clearly trying to keep things platonic between them.
She pulled her hand back, then smiled and headed toward the vanity near the bathroom. She’d made the mistake of not bringing her own hair dryer, and the one provided at the hotel was ancient—but it was better than nothing.
“You know, you’re not the worst choice for a husband. I could hold out for a really good divorce settlement.” Isla sighed dramatically. “Maybe a vacation house. A yacht. Some nice jewelry. I do like Cartier.”
Aiden’s lips parted with shock. He came closer and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall beside her. “You wouldn’t.”
She smirked. “I don’t know, Aiden. I could retire to a beach, live my days getting tanned and reading books. Oh wait, that’s already what I do.”
“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, exhaling. “Most women would have at least pretended they weren’t interested in my sizable bank account.”
“Oh, I’m not most women, Aiden. Your sizable... um, bank account is definitely one of your best assets.” Isla winked, then turned toward the mirror. She glanced at him through the reflection.
He watched her with a mix of astonishment and amusement, a grin on his lips. “Isla Scott, are you flirting with me?”
“And if I am?” She grabbed her brush, feeling a little bolder. “Is it so wrong for a woman to flirt with her own husband?”
She turned the hair dryer on, which screeched. A burst of hot air shot her hair across her face, and when she pushed it off, Aiden was still watching her with a look that didn’t quite say enough...except that he appeared to be enjoying her antics.
That was a relief. They’d threatened their entire relationship with lies, misunderstandings, and behavior that might be considered downright toxic from the outside, and the whole thing had made her feel off like they needed to pause and find their footing again.
“I’m just Aiden. And you’re just Isla.” His words from that day in front of the Texas Eiffel Tower returned as she stared at him through the reflection.
Her heart squeezed. In moments like this, she understood exactly what he’d meant.
It was so easy to be herself around him.
To tell him anything on her mind, free of judgment and fear.
Vegas had only deepened that aspect of their relationship, in a way, because he was the only one besides Davy who knew about that.
Like in the space of their shared secret, they had grown closer and more open with each other in a way they couldn’t be with others.
A spark shot out from the hair dryer.
Dropping it and jumping back, Isla watched as the hair dryer clattered to the carpeted floor, a shower of sparks firing from it. Smoke and flames followed, filling the air with the tang of acrid, burned plastic.
Springing into action, Aiden peeled off his shirt and covered the hair dryer with it, then took a step toward the wall and yanked the cord from the outlet.
“What the hell was that?” Isla asked with wide eyes.
Aiden put his hand on the small of her back, concern in his face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, I think.” She touched her cheek, her skin still stinging from the spark.
Aiden leaned closer and examined it, then touched a section of her hair. “Looks like you managed to escape without burning your hair. This skin here is a bit red.”
As he lowered it, she caught sight of the redness of his own fingers and reached for his hand. “Aiden, you burned your fingers.”
“It’s nothing.” His fingers intertwined with hers. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She wet her lips, stepping closer to him. “Aiden...”
God.
Why did they keep ending up like this? The attraction was tangible, even if they both had tried to resist it. It felt as though whatever had drawn them together that night in Vegas had been real, even if they hadn’t been in the right headspace.
Maybe she’d refused to let herself see him this way before, but now that they’d opened that door, there was no going back. He was handsome. Sexy.
And they clearly had chemistry.
She reached for him, and his arm encircled her waist, drawing her closer to his bare, muscular chest. As she stood on her tiptoes, his mouth crashed down on hers, their kiss hot, raw, and filled with desire.
Isla slid her arms around his neck, letting her weight sink against his as she kissed him back, a soft moan of pleasure leaving her.
His tongue slid against the seam of her lips, and she parted them for him. As one of his hands tangled into the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her close as his tongue clashed against hers, robbing her of breath.
And sanity.
God, this is incredible.
And incredibly stupid.
Yet she didn’t want to pull away. Didn’t want to stop. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms, pressing against him, feeling him harden like this.
Then Aiden’s hands slid to her waist, and he lifted her, setting her on the vanity and stepping between her knees.
Fuck, yes.
They were really doing this, weren’t they?
A deafening, shrill alarm pierced the quiet of the room.
Isla and Aiden yanked themselves free from one another, glancing around for the source of the noise. The smoke alarm, a few feet over.
“Oh shit,” Isla breathed, hopping down from the vanity. Her lips still throbbed, wet from their kiss. She drew a deep breath, then started to climb the dresser to reach the smoke detector.
Aiden was steps behind her and caught her by the waist, lowering her to the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to turn it off.”
“Not sure we can do that in a hotel, darling.”
A knock sounded on the door, and they exchanged a look. Aiden grabbed his suit jacket from the nearby chair and held it out to her. “Here, put this on.”
Isla shrugged into it, catching the subtle scent of his masculine cologne clinging to the collar, then she crossed to the door and opened it.
A motel worker stood there. “You all smoking?” he asked with a lift of his gray brows.
Isla held the door open. “No, the hair dryer burst into flames.”
The worker didn’t flinch but peered over her shoulder. “I’ll need you all to come on out here for a moment. Just to make sure. We have a strict no-smoking policy.”
Isla glanced back at Aiden, her stomach knotting. Did the worker think she was lying?
She sighed, then stepped out, followed by Aiden, who was still shirtless. The hotel worker stepped inside, and Isla hugged her arms to her chest, shivering in the cool night. “You must be freezing,” she told Aiden.
He didn’t answer, his eyes tracking the worker as he moved through the room.
The sound of tires caught Isla’s attention, and she glanced over her shoulder.
The crew van had just pulled in, headlights flashing against the gravel as it parked a few spots away.
Isla froze. Her stomach plummeted .
The doors opened.
First Kyle stepped out. Then Davy. Tomas. Then Boyd .
They all stopped in unison, staring. At her . At Aiden . At his bare chest and her wearing his suit jacket .
A horrified silence stretched between them.
Oh .. .fuck.