Chapter 4 A Responsible Adult Would’ve Said No #2
The chips stack higher. Five figures becomes six. I lose track of the actual numbers because they’re too big to feel real. This isn’t money anymore—it’s just colored plastic that represents impossible dreams.
Then the dice betray me.
Seven out.
Half my winnings disappear with two small cubes. The crowd makes sympathetic noises but doesn’t leave. They’re waiting to see if the magic comes back.
“It’s okay,” Kade says when I hesitate. “Keep going.”
But the streak is broken. I lose the next roll. And the next. Watch my mountain of chips erode like sandcastles at high tide.
“Maybe we should…” My words trail off.
I’m down to my last substantial stack. Enough for one final bet that could either salvage the night or wipe out everything I won.
The crowd disperses, the show over. But Kade is looking at me like watching me take risks and lose spectacularly somehow made me more beautiful in his eyes instead of less.
“Want to try something really crazy?” he asks.
“Crazier than what we just did?”
He picks up the dice. “If I roll snake eyes, you marry me.”
I laugh so hard I snort champagne. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’ll never roll snake eyes.”
“The odds are thirty-six to one,” he says easily.
“It’ll never happen.”
“So you’re saying yes?”
The smart answer is no. The sane answer is no. I know nothing about this man, and he’s asking me to marry him based on a dice roll in a Vegas casino at three in the morning.
“I’m saying you’ll never roll snake eyes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Fine. Yes. If you roll snake eyes, I’ll marry you. But when you don’t, you buy me breakfast.”
“Deal.”
He shakes the dice in his palm, eyes locked on mine. The casino noise fades. Everything narrows to this moment, this man, this completely insane proposition.
He throws.
The dice tumble across felt. Spin. Settle.
Two ones stare up at us like tiny black eyes.
“Well,” I say faintly. “Shit.”
Kade’s grin could power the entire Strip. “Guess we’re getting married.”
“Ha! Very funny. You weren’t actually serious about that, right?” I laugh, but something in his expression makes the sound catch in my throat.
“I was absolutely serious.”
“You… what?” My brain struggles to process this. “But that’s crazy. We just met. You can’t actually want to marry a stranger based on a dice roll.”
“Can’t I?”
He’s not joking. Not even a little bit.
“This is insane.”
“The best things usually are.”
“Wait.” I grab his arm before he can lead me away from the table, my mind reeling. “I need to go back to my hotel first.”
“Second thoughts?”
“No. I need my shoes.”
“Your shoes?”
“If I’m getting married, I’m wearing my pink Versaces. They’re the only designer things I own. And I think I have a white dress that could work. It’s nothing fancy, but—” I’m babbling, but I can’t stop.
“Whatever you want.”
The walk to Paris Las Vegas takes us through a maze of connecting bridges and casino floors. The Eiffel Tower replica glows against the night sky, half the size of the real thing but somehow more magical.
“Not as fancy as the Bellagio,” I say as we navigate through the themed lobby with its faux-Parisian streetlamps and painted ceiling that’s supposed to look like sky.
“It’s perfect,” Kade says, and the way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s not talking about the hotel.
I race through the lobby like a woman possessed, leaving Kade at Le Burger Brasserie while I ransack my suitcase in the room I’m sharing with Raven.
The white dress is simple. Summer cotton with thin straps and a hem that hits mid-thigh. I bought it for pool parties, but it’ll have to do for my wedding.
The pink Versace heels are another story.
The Medusa pumps with the golden head charm dangling from the ankle strap, chunky platform soles, and block heels that add serious height, completely impractical and absolutely perfect.
They cost me three months of tips from my job at the boutique back home, but they make me feel like I could rule the world.
I peel off my festival wear and throw the ensemble on.
“These are it,” I tell my reflection. “These are my lucky shoes.”
I race back downstairs, where Kade waits exactly where I left him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready.”
The Little White Wedding Chapel is exactly as tacky as advertised.
Pink neon hearts, plastic flowers, and an Elvis impersonator who’s definitely seen better decades.
But when Kade looks at me like I hung the moon, none of the kitsch matters.
When I walk down the two-foot aisle to where Kade waits, his expression makes me feel like royalty.
“Are we all shook up, or do we have them rings to make this official, honey?” Elvis asks.
We didn’t think about rings. The chapel has a selection that ranges from plastic to semiprecious, all displayed in a faded case.
I study the options, but nothing feels right. Too small, too fake, too much like costume jewelry from a gas station.
“None of these feel like me,” I admit.
Kade looks down at his own hand and slides off a heavy gold signet ring. “What about this?”
The ring is clearly too big for my finger, masculine and substantial, with an engraved crest I can’t make out in the dim chapel lighting.
“I can’t take your ring.”
“You’re not taking it. I’m letting you borrow it.” His smile turns soft. “Forever.”
I slide it onto my thumb, where it fits perfectly. Heavy and warm like it carries the weight of history. Like it could protect me from anything the world might throw at us.
“I love it,” I whisper, twisting it around my thumb. “It feels important.”
“It is important. Just like you.”
“By the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada and the Church of Elvis,” our officiant declares with a hip swivel, “I now pronounce you husband and wife, hunka-hunka-burning-love style. You may kiss that beautiful bride of yours, baby.”
Kade’s kiss tastes like champagne and possibility. When he pulls away, I’m dizzy with more than just alcohol.
“Mrs. Steele,” he says against my lips.
“That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“We’ve got time.”
The penthouse suite at the Cosmopolitan spreads before us like something from a movie. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the entire Strip, and a king-size bed dominates the far wall. There’s a terrace with a private hot tub and more square footage than my entire apartment back home.
“This is where you’ve been staying?” I ask, spinning in circles to take it all in.
“This is where we’re staying. For our honeymoon.”
“How long is our honeymoon?”
“How long do you want it to be?”
I think about my life back in New York. My tiny studio apartment, my job at the boutique that barely pays rent, the careful budgeting required to afford anything beyond basic survival.
“Forever.”
“Done.”
Kade closes the distance between us in two strides, his jacket hitting the floor before I’ve even processed the movement. His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks like he’s memorizing me, and then his mouth is on mine—deep, claiming, like the vows weren’t enough.
I melt into him instantly, my fingers fisting in the soft cotton of his shirt. He presses into me until the backs of my knees hit the bed, and then he’s lowering me onto it without ever breaking the kiss.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” I whisper against his mouth, trying to sound teasing, but it comes out breathless.
“I’ve been sure since the second I saw you.” His thumb traces over my jaw, and then he’s kissing down my throat, taking his time, tasting me like he’s memorizing the flavor. My pulse pounds under his mouth.
His shirt disappears—my palms glide over the ridges of his chest, the heat of his skin like I’ve been cold my whole life and only just stepped into the sun. When his lips find the top of my breast, my hands tighten in his hair.
He peels my dress over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. The pink Versace heels stay on. Of course they stay on.
His gaze drags over me in just my panties and glitter-smudged skin like I’m a miracle. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice low. “You’re mine now. All mine.”
I hook my legs around his hips, dragging him down, feeling the thickness of him through his jeans. He grinds against me once, slow, and my head tips back in a gasp.
Every touch feels amplified—like the bass from earlier is still thrumming in my blood, only now it’s his rhythm I’m moving to. He kisses down my collarbone, my sternum, the curve of my stomach, worship in every press of his lips.
When he finally settles between my thighs, his green eyes lock on mine, and the world falls away. His fingers hook in my panties and slide them down, slowly enough to make me squirm.
“I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” he says, and the promise is so dark, so certain, it sends a shiver straight through me.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Just strokes his thumbs over my hips before leaning in and running his tongue through my center. I jerk, clutching the sheets, a moan ripping from my throat. He groans like he’s the one getting fed, and the vibration makes my toes curl in my heels.
He works me with patient precision, his tongue finding my rhythm, building me up until I’m clutching his hair, thighs trembling against his shoulders. I’m on the edge, so close—
And then he pulls back.
“Kade—”
He’s already shoving his jeans down, his cock heavy and hard in his fist. “I want you to come on me,” he says, his voice rough. “Not my mouth. Not my fingers. Me.”
I’m already nodding before he even lines himself up. The first push steals my breath—thick stretch, burning just enough to make me whimper. He holds still once he’s seated deep, his forehead pressed to mine, letting me feel every inch of him inside me.
“Look at me,” he orders, his tone soft but firm. I do, and his eyes are so full of heat it’s dizzying. “That’s it. My wife.”
Then he moves.
Slow at first, each thrust grinding against my clit at the end until my nails score his back. His tempo builds, his hips snapping harder, faster, until the headboard thuds against the wall.