A Billionaire's Bride

Ava Jensen's head felt like a herd of stampeding elephants had paraded through it. Groaning, she cracked open one gummy eyelid, instantly regretting letting in the blazing shaft of morning sunlight.

What the hell happened last night?

Her mouth was drier than the Sahara Desert, and something hard was digging into her hip. She slowly shifted, wincing at the jackhammer pounding against her skull.

That's when she realized she was totally naked. And someone's heavy arm was wrapped around her waist.

Ava's eyes shot open despite the searing pain. Next to her in the rumpled bed was a large, muscular form buried under the sheets. A very male, very naked form.

Oh my god. What did I do?

Panic gripped her as flashes of tequila shots and grinding bodies on a dance floor rampaged through her throbbing head. She had to get out of here. Like, right now.

Gingerly rolling away from the sleeping stranger, Ava grabbed at the sheets to cover herself and slid out of the bed. The plush cream carpet embraced her bare feet as she stood, clutching the luxurious cotton bedding to her chest.

It was then she realized her surroundings. This sumptuous bedroom, with its sleek modern furnishings, wide windows, and enormous carved headboard was definitely not her shabby Vegas hotel room.

Where the hell am I?

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. Ava froze like a trapped animal, her heart pounding. She didn't dare move a muscle as the footsteps passed by, fading into silence.

Only when she was sure no one was coming did she allow herself to take stock of her escape route. A smear of black fabric puddled on the cream carpet caught her eye. Her slinky dress from last night.

Ava rushed over and tugged it on, silently thanking whatever twisted luck allowed her to find the garment before fleeing naked. It didn't give her much cover, but it was better than wearing nothing but a bedsheet like a château housemaid.

With trembling fingers, she grabbed her purse from the hardwood nightstand, terrified it wouldn't be there. But whoever had brought her here thankfully hadn't stolen it. Not that she had much cash inside worth taking.

Car keys, crumpled napkin, cell phone - all accounted for. Slinging the purse strap over her shoulder, Ava tiptoed for the door, wincing at every tiny creak of the lush carpet under her feet. One last glance at the sleeping behemoth in the bed confirmed he hadn't stirred.

Letting out the shallowest breath, Ava cracked open the door and slipped out into the hallway. Sculptures, paintings, and tapestries adorned the walls, with chandeliers sparkling from the vaulted ceilings overhead. This was no hotel, that was for sure.

Heart in her throat, Ava followed the hallway deeper into the lavish, museum-like home, straining to hear any sounds of life. She had to find her shoes and get the hell out of here before—

"Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds."

Ava gasped and spun toward the crisp, feminine voice. An older, impeccably dressed woman was standing there with a tray of steaming coffee and what looked like soufflés. The tight, pursed line of her lips suggested disapproval.

"I'm s-sorry, you must have the wrong person," Ava stammered, sliding back against the wall.

The woman arched one sculpted eyebrow. "I'm quite certain I don't. Might I suggest you get dressed before Mr. Reynolds wakes up?"

Ava felt like the floor had crumbled beneath her feet. Mr. Reynolds? As in...

Oh god no.

A door burst open at the far end of the hallway. Ava watched in frozen horror as the most outrageously handsome - and very naked - man strolled out, casually scratching his behind. His ripped abs and perfect, tanned skin practically glistened as he ran a hand through his gloriously tousled black hair.

"Mornin', Louise," he rumbled in a deep, sleep-roughened baritone. "Is that coffee I—"

The gorgeous naked man trailed off as his eyes landed on the deer-in-headlights Ava. His full, sculpted lips spread into a wicked grin.

"Why yes, it is the new Mrs. Reynolds. Thanks for joining me, babe."

Ava felt like she might actually pass out.

"Y-you?! No...we...we didn't..."

The smug jerk's smile only widened, and that's when Ava spotted the plain platinum band glinting wickedly on his ring finger.

The realization punched her square in the chest, stealing all the air from her lungs. Bile flooded her throat as paralyzing terror clawed its way up from the pit of her stomach.

Last night, she'd gotten blackout drunk and married an absolute stranger.

A billionaire stranger, from the look of this palatial mansion and his butler - or whatever that woman was supposed to be.

And now she was trapped in his home...alone...as his wife.

This couldn't be happening! How had one night of drunk idiocy spun so disastrously out of control?

The Naked Billionaire - for that was clearly what he was - took a cocky step toward her.

"That dress doesn't leave much to the imagination, Mrs. R. Although why don't we just skip the clothes altogether?"

A low, wolfish growl underscored his words as his dark, piercing gaze lasered over Ava's barely-clad body.

That hungry look punched through her terror for a sizzling moment. Objectively speaking, he was the most devastatingly attractive man she'd ever laid eyes on. Like some kind of rarefied Adonis sculpted in warm golden flesh.

But she was no princess - far from it. She didn't have a modest penny to her name, let alone billions. And he was treating their wedding - the gravest mistake of her life - like some big joke.

No way was she letting this obscenely rich jerk turn her into just another deluded fling for his amusement. Ava drew herself up, rage chasing away her momentary lust.

"Don't you dare 'Mrs. R' me, you arrogant prick! This is a nightmare, and I want out!"

His smile only widened. "Why the rush, my new bride? We haven't even consummated our marriage yet. I promise it'll be worth the wa—"

Ava didn't let him finish. Clutching the bedsheet tighter to cover herself, she spun and bolted for the nearest exit.

There had to be a way out of this hellish fever dream! Before she ended up fully naked, humiliated, and legally chained to a man she could never begin to understand.

Ava's heels clicked frantically against the marble floors as she careened through the cavernous mansion. Doors blurred past in her panicked escape, though each one seemed more elaborately carved and intimidating than the last.

She just needed to find the front exit - a way out of this hellish maze back into reality. Back to her crummy Vegas hotel room and her normal, drama-free life as a broke single mom.

Away from that smoldering naked billionaire and the awful truth that his thick, heavy ring was now adorning her finger too.

The sound of footsteps echoed up ahead. Ava's heart lodged in her throat as the butler lady rounded the corner, eyeing her disapprovingly.

"Mrs. Reynolds, I must insist you return to the master bedroom at once. Mr. Reynolds does not appreciate divorcing wives who misbehave."

Divorcing wives? Was this old biddy actually serious?

"L-look, there's been a huge misunderstanding," Ava sputtered, searching for a reasonable explanation to latch onto. "I'm nobody's wife. This was all just a crazy, drunken mistake!"

The woman's withering look bordered on contempt. "I'm well aware of the circumstances behind your sham marriage. But I warn you, Mrs. Reynolds, flouting the terms could have severe consequences."

"Consequences? What the hell are you talking about?" Ava's anxiety levels rocketed into the stratosphere. How had a dumb, impulsive decision in a cheesy Vegas chapel spiraled so horrifyingly out of control?

"You best take that up with Mr. Reynolds," the woman sniffed, adjusting her tray of coffee and pastries. "I'll inform him you'll be awaiting him in the bedroom, as expected of a proper wife."

Ava choked back her objections. Going back to that smug billionaire's bedroom was the last thing she wanted right now. She turned and bolted once more, not caring where she ended up as long as it was far from him.

Several disorienting hallways later, Ava slammed through a random arched doorway...and emerged into what could only be described as a palatial receiving room. Mahogany tables overflowed with antique porcelain vases and gilded sculptures. Paintings in ornate rococo frames adorned the muralled walls, and an enormous fireplace dominated the center. Her ratty cocktail dress couldn't have looked more out of place amidst such opulent grandeur.

But the pièce de résistance was the sweeping double staircase descended from a second floor balcony, dotted with archways. Ascending its carpeted steps, Ava might be able to make her escape out one of those exits up there!

Seizing her chance, she hitched up her skimpy dress and dashed up the curved staircase, wincing as her bare feet slapped the cold marble treads. She didn't care how much noise she made now - only fleeing this decadent madhouse mattered.

At last, she emerged in a towering hallway lined with roman busts and antique tapestries. Twin archways beckoned at the far end, spilling early morning light. Ava pelted toward them, renewed hope spurring her tired legs onward.

But just as she reached for the glossy wooden doors, a deep, authoritative voice sliced through the mansion's stillness.

"Going somewhere, wife?"

Ava froze, her fingers brushing the door's etched glass surface. Of course - the Billionaire McCrypticButler had ratted her out.

Slowly, she turned to face the virile, unbelievably handsome man ascending the staircase, clad in a sumptuous maroon robe. His bare, muscular chest peeked through the silk folds with every powerful stride.

Swallowing hard, Ava steeled herself against the visceral effect his lurid male beauty had on her baser instincts. There was no way in hell she was letting herself be seduced by this wealthy prick, no matter how ruggedly lickable he looked.

"Stay away from me," she warned, slamming her back against the doors. "I never agreed to marry you, and there's no way in hell I'm sticking around in this nightmare!"

His dark, bedroom eyes glinted with amusement as he prowled closer, slowly retying the loose belt of his robe. The silky garment gaped open briefly, giving Ava a full, unobstructed view of his ripped abs and beyond. It took all her willpower not to visually devour and salivate over all those defined ridges and sinuous valleys.

"Let's get one thing straight between us, wife." His deep baritone rumbled like a velvet avalanche, heavy with unspoken promises of carnal bliss. "You most definitely did agree to marry me last night."

Ava opened her mouth to protest, but his next words stole the very breath from her lungs.

"You looked me dead in the eyes and said, 'Jackson Reynolds, I want every last thick inch of you to be mine forever. Take me as your blushing billionaire bride.'"

His sensual smirk alone was enough to tighten things low in Ava's abdomen. But hearing her drunken, slutty plea for marriage from his lips utterly mortified her. And reminded her she had no one to blame but herself for this colossal mess.

"T-that is not how it happened," she sputtered, flushing scarlet. "I blacked out, remember? And in any case, a dumb Vegas chapel wedding isn't legally binding! Now, step aside and let me go before I call the cops on your pervy billionaire ass!"

His soft chuckle was downright infuriating. As were the blatantly hungry way his eyes roamed over her body, practically undressing her where she stood.

"You're not going anywhere, wifey. See, that runaway mouth of yours is exactly why you need a firm hand keeping you in line. Which I'll be happy to provide...among other things."

His tongue traced his full lower lip in a maddeningly sexy gesture. Ava tore her gaze away, inexplicably flustered and indignant. Who the hell did this arrogant jerk think he was? She may be flat broke and living in a motel, but no amount of money gave him the right to treat her like a sideshow trophy lay.

"Give it up with your creepy dominance fantasy, asshole. Just because some ditzy chick agreed to your money doesn't mean—"

"Now hold on just a minute," he cut her off, his tone hardening. "I don't recall offering you a dime to marry me."

Ava froze. Had her assumption been wrong? Was their accidental marriage really not just some warped prostitution arrangement?

His expression sobered, suddenly earnest. "I hate to break it to you, wife, but you wanted all of this. Me, my world, my life as a wayward billionaire bride."

His words clung to every sumptuous inch of his godlike physique, dripping with arrogant male ownership over her life. It suddenly felt impossible to breathe in this abruptly small hallway. Ava spun away, denial and rage clawing at her.

"You're delusional," she spat, reaching behind her back to locate the doorknob.

But before she could turn it and make her escape, his low, gravelly whisper froze her in place.

"Or maybe you're just terrified you might've meant every word last night. And now you're in way over your pretty little head, Mrs. Reynolds."

His taunt echoed in her ears with dreadful resonance. Could some insane, long-buried part of her psyche actually have craved marrying this outrageously wealthy, unbearably smug billionaire Adonis? The truth inched closer with each thudding heartbeat - that she'd drunkenly leapt into the abyss, and was now sinking fast.

Ava squeezed her eyes shut, rooting herself against the rapidly spinning room. She had to stay strong and throw off this arrogant jackass' hypnotic, domineering power over her. Get out while she still could.

Sucking down a steeling breath, Ava grasped the door's brass handle...

...only to have it pull open from the other side, blinding her with blazing morning sunlight.

The next thing she knew, Ava was tumbling forward. Then her half-naked body was flush against a rock-hard, exquisitely muscled male form. His heavy