Wedded Chaos

Chapter 1

Gracyn

“G ray, stop!”

I hold my fist in the air, flicking my middle finger straight up. He probably thinks I’m saying he’s number one. Number one asshole. I’m so over this. I don’t need this bullshit. Especially from that joker.

“Oh, that’s professional,” he shouts over the music behind me.

That’s rich coming from him, considering his hand was just squeezing my ass, offering a quickie in his office. I turn but keep walking backward. “It only needs to be professional if I’m actually working here. And I’m not, since I quit.”

“You can’t quit.” His eyes plead with me as fear sobers him up enough to realize the colossal mistake he made. He starts to panic. “I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“That we can agree on. And yes, I can. I just did.” I glance around the bar one last time, irritated it’s come down to this. Four years, a million drinks served, enough tips to put me through college on my own, and memories that’ll last my lifetime, all coming to an abrupt halt because of this schmuck.

Talk about a buzzkill.

The time I had left here was short-lived, anyway. I’d already cut back to working weekends since this semester was entirely student teaching, and graduation is a few weeks away. And as my mother reminds me daily, I’ll need to get a real job . Which was always the plan. Waitress to elementary school teacher. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with juvenile people. Those single-digit kids should be a breeze.

But this is not how I wanted to go.

“Where you goin’, Gray?” Rory asks from behind the bar, his gaze jumping from me to Justin, who’s following me like a puppy, begging me to stay.

A sly grin plays on my features, savoring the panic in Justin’s voice. It’s that vindictive streak I inherited from my Italian heritage, one that I owe to my dad’s side of the family. A trait that only comes out when my temper flares, which is rare. Were it not for my light olive skin and dark brown locks, nobody would accept I’m half Italian. With my green eyes, freckles, and a mismatch of European ancestry on the other half, it’s obvious I take more after my mom.

“I’m going out to celebrate my retirement.”

His bushy black brows furrow. My friend knows I would never quit like this. “What happened?” he barks at Justin, readying himself to jump over the bar.

“Nothing,” he clips, holding his hands up. Minutes ago, Justin assumed nobody could touch him, and he would’ve made sure Rory knew that. Not now. Not when I’ve yanked his power-hungry tongue out of his mouth.

I stare at him and blink.

“It was a misunderstanding. I thought you were Lissa.”

What the actual hell?

I take a step forward, getting close to his face, my smile disappearing. “Is that right? So, you’re saying that would’ve been appropriate if it had been Lissa?” Total scumbag.

“Oh, um…” He stumbles through his response. Careful, Justin, you’re about to make things worse. He rakes his hand over his jaw. “Please, Gray, don’t make this something it’s not.” His voice loses all its steam as he hangs his head.

“But it is something .”

Power.

I have it.

I don’t like it, but I’ll use it if I have to.

I have the voice that hangs between a life and death sentence. I’m not proud of it. Actually, I’ve run from it my entire life. But right now, at this moment, it’s making me feel invincible.

“I’ll do anything,” he continues to plead.

I’m sure you will.

“Quit.”

“But—”

“No. That’s the only option.” I straighten his black tie and pat it down over his heaving chest. “Or I’ll tell the boss you sexually assaulted me.”

He cracks his neck and then yanks out a phone from his pocket. “Fine! I’ll quit.”

A delicious sense of satisfaction warms my heart. I suppose enduring the unwanted advances and shameless propositions was all worth it, considering how much I hate the guy. It was a mistake to hire him from the start, with his crooked smile and those piercing, beady orbs that sent chills down my spine whenever they fixated on me. I watch him storm off to his office, the walls quivering as he slams the door shut behind him. This is probably the highlight of my career, right here.

How things have quickly changed.

“I guess that means you’re back?” Rory leans back against the bar, his thick, tattooed arms folded over his chest with amusement in his blue eyes.

Twisting my lips, I seriously think about it. It would be nice to be free the last few weeks of my college days and do whatever floats my boat without any responsibility.

“Nope.” I blow him a kiss and wink. “Tell Ray he’s welcome. And he should give you the manager’s job.”

* * *

“Daughter of mine, what happened this afternoon?” Ray barks out on the other end of the line. Shit. Why didn’t I have the forethought to come up with a story before I answered his call? “Why on the same day did my club manager and daughter quit?”

“Coincidence?” I squeak out, tugging Charli to stop while I worm my way out of this mess without creating a bloodbath. We move to the side of a building, letting by the rush of tourists walking the Strip.

“Not likely,” he deadpans.

If he wasn’t already aware of my disdain for Justin, this would be an easier sell.

“Listen, all you need to know is I did you a favor. I took out the trash, and while doing so, I quit. We both win. You and Mom have wanted me to quit since the day I started.”

My father owns four hotels on the Vegas Strip, but you’d be hard pressed to find a place around here that he doesn’t control, one way or another. Even some of the metro cops are on his payroll. All except one person, my stepfather . Chief Judge Bart Carmichael. My mom went out of her way to find the exact opposite of Ray when she married Bart. She single-handedly started a war with me smack in the middle. My name is fitting. The area between black and white. Good and evil.

Gray.

Then they made it more complicated. As if it wasn’t bad enough.

Bart adopted me when I was three. It was my mom’s way of cutting Ray out completely. I grew up calling Bart “Dad” and Ray by his name. Even though I found out he was my real dad when I was eight, it’s stayed that way. I’m like the worst-kept secret of Vegas. Everyone knows.

“I don’t like being kept in the dark, Gracyn. You know I’ll find out.”

I recall the dark corner table Justin had settled into. No witnesses. I should have known he was up to something when he called me over there. The club was still prepping to open for the night. It was early.

“Ray, please let it go. Nothing happened I couldn’t handle myself.”

He sighs. “I don’t like letting things go unresolved. They always find a way back.”

I squeeze my eyelids shut. This is why I should leave the power trips to him.

“But I’ll let it be. This time .”

Not giving him a chance to change his mind, I say bye with a quick “love you” and hang up. We jump in between two large groups, and I let out a long sigh.

“That was intense. I need coffee,” Charli says, yanking me into the café as we almost pass it.

As if she needs a reason.

“How was that intense for you?”

“Oh, I felt every syllable that man said. He’s scary.”

I don’t argue with her. He is quite intimidating. “You should look into caffeine addiction. Maybe you need an intervention,” I joke, following her to the line. I’m pretty sure brown sludge from coffee fills her veins.

As we wait for her drink, she purrs next to me. “Wow. He looks like a delicious cup of ice cream. Rocky road with a sinful drizzle of caramel.”

I giggle and glance up from my phone, and my attention lands on a gorgeous male specimen, and I hum in agreement.

“Wonder if he works somewhere like Chippendales? I’d pay to see him undress,” she boasts.

I nod. He fits the part. Dressed in an expensive pair of dark jeans with a snug-fitted black T-shirt that beautifully contours his broad shoulders and strains against his powerful biceps, he’s a man who prioritizes personal fitness. He leans casually against the wall, engrossed in his phone, ignoring the admiring stares from every woman in the room.

The barista calls out Charli’s name, and she grabs her coffee and moans while taking her first sip. I shake my head. If I had coffee at eight at night, I’d still be awake at eight in the morning.

“Ready?” she asks.

My attention is drawn back to the guy, and I find myself studying him. No ring, brown hair, square jaw that’s accentuated by his perfectly trimmed short beard. Definitely older than me. He glances at the counter to see if his order is up. I catch his light brown eyes right before they return to his phone.

“Brooks,” the barista calls out.

He looks up again and pushes off the wall, heading toward us. Well, to his drink, but we’re standing a foot away from it. I don’t know what comes over me. What comes over my hand as I reach out and wrap my fingers around his hot drink. Immediately, I pull the lid to my lips and take a drink as if I’m going to get a taste of him. Charli’s eyes are wide in shock when I wink at her, swallowing the bitter black coffee.

“Um, excuse me…” the man’s deep and rich voice says behind me. “I think you have my drink.”

Holy hell , his voice is even more manly than he is, and hearing it takes the edge off choosing to drink plain black coffee.

I whip around, and our eyes lock in a moment that makes me forget how to speak. Which never happens. His warm, piercing gaze is almost too much to handle, with the most striking green outline surrounding his hazel eyes— not brown . As he stands next to me, I realize that he’s taller than I expected, an entire head length, at least. He looks down at me with a lifted brow in amusement, as if he’s already figured out that I’m playing some kind of game.

“Do I? I’m sorry.” Definitely not sorry . I bite my lip as I hold the drink out for him.

His eyes drop to my lips, subtle yet unmistakable. He shakes his head. “You can have it. I’ll just wait for yours. What’s your name?”

Charli snickers to my right, and I elbow her, keeping my attention on him.

“Gray.”

One side of his lips rises, forming a crooked smile in amusement.

I playfully grin. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve already heard it all. I bet you’re about to ask me which shade of gray?”

“That’s not at all what I was going to say.” He leans in close to my ear, and the mixture of soap and woodsy scent invades my senses. “I was going to say gray is my favorite color.”

Goose bumps prickle my skin. He takes a step back with a wicked grin as I swallow hard.

Oh dear. I didn’t expect that.

I clear my throat and hold up his drink. “Well, thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

If he’s offering pleasures, I could think of a better one than bitter coffee.

Charli taps my hip and nods toward the door. It figures, the one time I want to stay and continue flirting with a stranger, I have somewhere to be. I let out a resigned sigh and flash him one last lingering smile before heading toward the door. There’s something about him that has piqued my curiosity, and I’m tempted to change my plans for the night. But it’s my party.

As I reach to push the door open and before I can walk out, he asks, “So what kind of girly drink am I getting?”

A devilish chuckle escapes as I push on the door. Just before stepping out, I say over my shoulder with a wide smile, “I didn’t order one.”

His laugh follows me out.

I fan my face as we step out into the busy Strip, heading toward Planet Hollywood. I’ve flirted with a million guys, but that was an adrenaline rush that I can’t explain. My heart beats fast against my chest, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Girl. I can’t believe you stole that guy’s drink.”

I can’t either.

“You should’ve invited him to go out with us.”

“He made it hard for me to think. Damn, he was gorgeous.”

“Thanks. The feeling is mutual.”

My heart stops full tilt at the voice behind us. I slowly spin around. Heat washes over me as he overheard us talking about him. The Vegas heat isn’t helping either. And it’s only May 3rd. He looks at the drink in my hand. The one sip of black coffee was enough to give me a buzz. Definitely could attribute to the racing heart.

“Is that it? That was your play? Stealing my coffee and leaving?” he asks.

I gesture between us. “Nope. This is my play,” I say, quick thinking. I didn’t expect him to come after me, so this is turning out better than I imagined.

He nods with an amused grin. “Ah. Hook, line, and sinker. In that case, come to a party tonight with me.” He pulls out a black leather wallet.

“Where’s it at?”

I don’t have to party all night with my girlfriends, right?

“Apex.” Reaching into his wallet, he pulls out his business card and hands it to me. It’s then I notice how big his hands are. Jesus. The things he could do with those. Some girls need muscles. I need large hands. Granted, he has both, so it’s a win-win for me. “Text me when you get there. We’re in VIP, so I can come and get you.”

I press my lips together at his assumption that I’m for sure going or that I can’t get in without his help. Nevertheless, I’m intrigued. VIP at Apex is hard to get into. It’s the playground of the rich and famous, where the paparazzi congregate outside and wait to snap pictures. So, the burning question is, who is this guy?

Rich or famous?

With a nod, I reply, “Thanks.” I glance down at his card to read his name and notice he’s the CEO of a marketing company in New York. Nice . “Brooks Handley, maybe I’ll see you later.”

He walks backward. “Well, one shade of Gray , you owe me a drink.” He flashes a panty-soaking smile and turns, disappearing into the crowded sidewalk. My day keeps getting better and better.

“Happy retirement to you,” Charli teases.