Rouge: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Tattered Curtain Series)

Lacey

Soft satin hugs me and I stretch out with a light, content moan. The low noise scratches painfully at the back of my throat. I try to swallow to wet my dry mouth, but I end up wincing at the movement. The discomfort barrels reality back to me and I groan.

Today is my birthday and also the day I’m signing a marriage license with the one and only man who has the information to save my father.

But last night? Last night I imagined that I let my inhibitions go for once. I got to perform a show that ended all shows and had a one-night stand with a Las Vegas dancer. What happened after that is a hazy cherry on top of one of the wildest dreams I’ve ever had.

I’m not gonna lie, though, I’m disappointed it wasn’t real. Ending up with a guy as free and exciting as Key would be a million times better than the truth. And if our first time together was that hot, we’d never leave the bed. Especially if it’s this soft.

I stretch out into the sheets and grab on to the squishy memory foam pillow.

Wait…

I don’t have a memory foam pillow.

The realization has me jackknifing into an upright position, sending blinding pain through my head. The first thing I see is the bedside table with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen next to it. I’m disoriented and starting to freak out, but the ache is killing me so I take the pills and down the full glass, letting the cool water soak my parched throat.

When I finish, I glance around at the room’s sleek, modern, black-and-silver aesthetic. It’s all sharp lines, very masculine, and very unlike my pretty pastel bedroom or any hotel room I’ve been in.

“Where the hell am I?”

The silver pillow next to me still has a head-shaped depression, but the person is nowhere to be seen.

Who’s home am I in? What happened last night?

I think so hard my brain begins to spin.

I got ready with Roxy, followed by the limo ride with Roxy and Maeve. Rouge. Then… it gets fuzzy as if I’m remembering something I imagined rather than experienced. I know I danced onstage with the hot devil named Key, but after… that was a dream, right? It had to be. There’s no way I accidentally had sex with—

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I don’t feel different. Shouldn’t I feel different if I slept with my family’s enemy?

Doubt floods my mind, accompanied by scenes I refuse to believe are memories.

But if it’s true…

Dammit, what if last night wasn’t a dream at all?

The shower suddenly turns on in the en suite bathroom and I realize I have no time to waste if I want to get out of here unnoticed. Thankfully, I’m still wearing my runaway bride wedding dress which means I have my phone in my pocket.

In no time, I’m scrolling through a bazillion missed calls and texts. There are several from Roxy who reported that she was—surprisingly—responsible enough to return a passed-out Maeve back to her hotel. Roxy also hoped I used my “Wish You Were Still Single” card to the best of my ability and swore she wouldn’t tell a soul until I was ready to reveal the details—whatever that means. My heart stutters at the thought of her even mentioning any of it to me, let alone bringing it up to anyone else.

Roxy is hit or miss at keeping my secrets and I’ve had to learn the hard way that she isn’t someone I can always confide in. No one in the Garde is. They’re all out for blood, power, and status, willing to turn on people in a heartbeat. Roxy wouldn’t betray me for any of those things, but she wouldn’t be able to help herself from gossiping, either, especially considering this is one of the biggest life-ruining secrets I’ve ever had.

When I get to the message from my mom, my heart stops completely.

MOM

Where are you? I’m at the courthouse to witness you signing the papers. The Baron will be here any second.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit.”

I stuff my phone back into my pocket before unraveling from the silver satin sheets and hopping out of bed. Cool air wafts over my naked butt, sending yet another shock of fear down my spine. With every passing breath, my insistence that the craziest parts of last night were only a dream gets weaker and weaker.

As I straighten the wild tulle of my dress over my bare ass, I search for my shoes and socks with no luck. Deciding to do the humiliating walk of shame barefoot, I tiptoe toward the bedroom’s only exit, resisting the urge to snoop through the dark, open closet on the way. Once I sneak out of the room, I close the door behind me quietly and glance around for my escape route.

But I stop in my tracks at the sight in front of me.

It’s a huge living room space and the window that takes up the entire back wall has me gravitating toward it. The valley stretches before me before giving rise to the beautiful peaks that surround the city.

New Orleans was an adventure, but it’s good to be back in the Valley, even if it’s only for a little while. After I get married this weekend, I’ll have to live with Monroe in New York and I’ll no doubt miss the chaotic party that is my hometown.

Even though daylight dims the bright lights, the iconic Las Vegas Strip is just as electric. The Eiffel Tower piercing the blue sky was always my favorite, night or day, and who doesn’t love the water show at the Bellagio fountain? It’s off now, turning the man-made lake in front of me into a mirror…

My pulse thuds as I scan my surroundings until each landmark pieces together into a map. My chest constricts as I slowly realize I am inside one of the few buildings in this city that isn’t completely safe for me.

The McKennon Hotel.

The waterfall in the shower stops, snapping me into motion. I jerk away from the window to search for the door in this penthouse suite and pass what has to be thousands of dollars’ worth of art and leather furniture. They’re gorgeous pieces, but the decor is too bespoke for a normal presidential suite. Which means whoever stays here is a resident.

In the McKennon Hotel.

Not looking good on the whole “last night was a dream” front.

When I finally see the door, I rush past the artwork and grab the handle—

It doesn’t move.

Frowning, I tug at it with all my might, but again, it doesn’t budge.

“What are you doing?”

The smooth, deep voice shocks me into stillness. It has the barest hint of an Irish accent and I know if I’d heard it last night, it would’ve either tipped off his identity or gotten me off faster. Did he purposely hide it just to trick me?

I slowly turn on one heel to see Kian McKennon staring back at me, a dark-auburn eyebrow raised in question.

His lightly tanned, tattooed skin is damp from the shower, and droplets roll down his chest, dripping in every crevice of his sculpted body. One bead of water, in particular, momentarily banishes my panic. Lust takes its place while I watch the bead disappear along his Adonis belt into his white towel. The hastily wrapped cloth is the only thing he’s wearing as if he realized I was trying to escape and rushed out to stop me.

“It really was you. I thought it was a dream,” I whisper.

A smile quirks up his lips and I’m suddenly acutely aware I’m not wearing panties.

“Sex with me is so good it feels like a dream, huh? I guess you have that to look forward to for the rest of our lives.”

“For the rest of our…” My voice breaks and I shake my head free of the very good memory trying to interrupt my train of thought.

When I focus back on him, Kian’s frowning at me.

“Your throat hurts.”

“No it doesn’t,” I lie, swallowing to get it to stop sounding like I’m speaking through gravel.

“It does. I can tell. Did you take the ibuprofen I left out for you?”

He steps toward me, sending me catapulting backward into the door and I jab my finger in the air.

“Don’t worry about my throat. What’s important is that I don’t remember how I got here. Did you drug me last night?”

“I only did what I had to do. You left me no choice. Believe me, it could’ve been worse.”

He raises his hand like I’m a wild animal he needs to calm down, and it irritates me that his gentle tone actually works.

But then his words register.

“Wait, what you had to do? Listen, you’re crazy and I have to leave. I’m really late for an appointment—”

“—to sign a marriage license? Yeah, you mentioned that last night. Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

My heart trips in my chest. The man is talking in riddles and I’m too hungover to figure them out.

“I’m getting married this weekend and today is the only day the Baron’s schedule is open enough to sign our marriage license together. My mom is a witness, and she’s expecting me.”

“Fecking hell.” Key—Kian scrubs his way-past-five-o’clock shadow. “You know, it’s Halloween, but you insisting on marrying Monroe Baron might be the scariest shite I’ll hear all day.”

I snort. I can’t help it and the quick laugh eases some of the anxiety in my chest. But I’m still so fucking nervous. Kian seems charming enough, but the fact that I might’ve ruined my father’s life pounds in my brain like a migraine. My whole family is counting on me marrying the Baron. What if I destroyed it all on a night out in Vegas with liquor, a male revue, and a one-night stand?

How cliché can I be?

“I need to go, Kian,” I finally say out loud.

A scowl crosses his face and he sucks in a quick breath before letting it out harshly.

“Sorry, Lace. I can’t let you do that.”

Lace? He doesn’t get to call me a nickname. Aside from the hate between our families, we don’t know each other at all. I should’ve reached out to him when our arranged marriage agreement ended, but I was young and busy rebelling in New Orleans. Then when he broke off the engagement, I blocked him on all social media because I couldn’t stand to see him partying it up while I was devastated over being discarded.

Anger heats my face and I catch myself pursing my lips when I notice what’s in his hand.

He’s holding up a ring. The Baron’s engagement ring. I look down to see my left ring finger has a new, pretty, simple silver band on it instead.

What the fuck?

“This is a joke, right? Okay, ha ha, you got me. Very funny prank.” I glare at him and hold out my palm. “Now give me the ring. I need it.”

“Nah, you don’t need this anymore.” He tosses it up like a coin, making my heart plummet to my stomach until he catches it.

“Seriously, Kian? You’re stealing the Baron’s diamond ring? Aren’t the McKennons billionaires?”

He barks out a laugh. “I stole my queen of diamonds last night. I couldn’t care less about Monroe’s fecking ring.”

Sweat pricks my forehead and the simple ring on my left hand burns.

No.

In the Garde, I was a commodity to be bought, sold, and traded, but Kian McKennon stole me instead. And I have no memory of it.

He tosses the engagement ring behind him and my nerves shatter as it hits the ground. When he swaggers toward me, the heat in his eyes makes my lower belly flip and my pussy clench, forgetting all about the trouble the horny bitch got us into. I hate the way my body responds to him with one look like last night wasn’t the biggest mistake of my life, and I’m down to make another.

“Call your mother, Lace. You’re not going to make it to your wedding.”

“W-why not? Just let me go, Kian. If the Baron finds out—” I shake my head. “I need to sign that license.”

“You can’t.” He stops feet away from me to snag a stack of papers from the entry table. He flicks through them before finding the one he wants and holds it up for me to see.

At the bottom, there are several signatures: two witnesses, a judge, Kian’s… and mine. It’s a little wobbly, but it’s there all the same.

A vision from my dream flashes over my mind. It’s a scene of us in a midnight chapel in front of a priest and a judge, with a couple of random elderly women smiling behind us.

“No,” I whisper and step back.

“I’ve got video if you don’t believe me.” He retrieves his phone from the entry table’s catchall bowl and scrolls until he finds the video.

I inch forward, just close enough to see but not close enough to be drawn into the wild, magnetic energy between us.

There on the screen is me in my runaway bride costume and Kian in a handsome black designer suit. When it gets to the important part, I’m all smiles while I enthusiastically say Kian’s real name and repeat my vows. Even I can’t tell that I’ve been drugged.

The priest then shifts to Kian and my heart pounds. I squint to see his face, but the angle makes it impossible.

“I, Kian, take you, Lace—”

Kian shuts off the screen and plops the phone back in the bowl. “See? You can’t get married to two people.”

“I need to see the rest, Kian!”

“Oh… did you want to see me profess my undying love to you?” My breath lodges in my lungs, waiting for his answer, but he tsks and shakes his head. “Not with your attitude.”

The trapped air releases, leaving an inexplicable twinge in my chest. I cross my arms, embarrassed that I feel anything at all for this infuriating man.

Why the hell do I care?

I don’t. I can’t. Not if I’m going to save my father.

“All I want to know is whether that video is legit,” I insist through gritted teeth, trying my best to put up a confident front. “You drugged me. This can’t be valid.”

My voice doesn’t have the fight it needs to be convincing. Everything I’m saying might be true, but no one would be able to tell that on the video or in my signature.

“You don’t seem drugged in that video,” he argues, reading my mind.

My husband is the picture of triumph as he taunts me, “I warned you that my bride couldn’t run away from me.”

Even though his smile is smug and sexy, there’s something else I can’t place. Before I can analyze it, he turns to wave his hand at the room behind him.

“Welcome home, Lacey McKennon.”