Chapter 1 Waking Up Mrs. Billionaire

Mia Carter's head pounded like someone was slamming a hammer against the inside of her skull. Her mouth tasted like regret and cheap tequila, and her stomach rolled in warning. She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut against the bright sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

This wasn't her bed.

This wasn't her apartment.

This wasn't even her life.

She peeled one eye open.

The sheets beneath her were silk-real silk, not the shiny polyester kind from the bargain bin. The room smelled like luxury and money. Modern furniture. Black and chrome decor. A skyline view of the Las Vegas strip.

She sat up slowly-and nearly screamed.

There was a man in bed next to her.

A very shirtless man.

He lay on his stomach, one muscular arm stretched over the pillow where she'd been sleeping, his face turned slightly toward her. Dark hair. Strong jawline. Stubble that looked annoyingly perfect. A body sculpted like it had been designed by gods-and paid for with a black Amex.

Mia clutched the sheet to her chest, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.

What the hell happened last night?

As she started to breathe faster, her gaze dropped to her hand-and froze.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A very big diamond ring.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no-"

The man stirred, groaned, and turned onto his back. His eyes opened-piercing gray, sharp even through the sleepiness. He blinked once. Twice. Then narrowed them at her.

"Well," he said, voice rough and low, "you're loud in the morning."

Mia stared at him in horror. "Who are you?!"

His brow furrowed. "Seriously?"

She grabbed a pillow and held it like a shield. "I'm serious! What is going on? Where am I? What happened last night? Why is there a ring on my finger?!"

He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly not as panicked as she was. "Wow. You really don't remember."

Her mouth went dry. "No. Should I?"

"You don't remember the wedding?"

Mia choked on air. "Wedding?"

He nodded toward the bedside table.

With shaking fingers, Mia reached for the envelope resting there. She pulled out a glossy marriage certificate-and stared.

Her name.

His name.

The official seal of the State of Nevada.

Mia Carter and Lucas Kane.

She blinked. Then blinked again. "No. This is some kind of prank."

The man-Lucas Kane-sighed like this was all terribly inconvenient. "It's not."

"This can't be real."

He shrugged. "Unless we faked your signature, mine, and bribed the Elvis impersonator who married us."

"Elvis?!"

Lucas gestured lazily. "You insisted."

"I don't even like Elvis!"

"Could've fooled me. You were singing 'Can't Help Falling in Love' when we walked into the chapel."

Mia's jaw dropped. Her brain was short-circuiting. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way she went from broke waitress to accidentally married to a billionaire in one night.

And then it hit her.

Lucas Kane.

The name was familiar because it was famous. Billionaire tech CEO. Cold-hearted. Unreachable. On every magazine cover with some impossibly beautiful model on his arm-until recently, when he'd suddenly disappeared from the public eye.

And now he was shirtless in her bed.

Well, not her bed. Their bed?

"Why would someone like you marry someone like me?" she asked, horrified.

"You asked me that last night too," he said dryly. "Right before you dared me to do it."

She buried her face in her hands. "This is insane."

"You're telling me."

They sat in silence for a long beat, the reality of what happened settling over her like a weighted blanket.

"So what now?" she whispered.

Lucas stood, revealing more of his infuriatingly perfect body, and pulled on a pair of tailored slacks. He grabbed a shirt from the back of a nearby chair and buttoned it with practiced ease. "Now? We fix it."

Mia looked up, hopeful. "You mean get an annulment?"

Lucas stilled. "No."

Her stomach flipped. "No?"

He turned to face her, his expression cool and unreadable. "I have an offer for you."

She blinked. "An offer?"

"Six months," he said. "Pretend to be my wife. In public. With my family. My business associates. You'll live with me. Play the part."

"Play the part of your wife?"

"Yes."

"Why would I do that?"

He tilted his head. "Because I'll pay off your mother's medical bills. All of them. And throw in enough cash to get you back into nursing school. Clean slate."

Mia's mouth fell open. "How do you know about my mom?"

"You told me. Last night. Right after you drank four shots and started crying into your fries."

She flushed. "Why do you need me to pretend to be your wife?"

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Because my grandfather's dying. And he made it very clear: no wife, no inheritance. He wants to see me 'settled' before he signs over anything. If he thinks I married for love, he'll go through with it."

"And if he finds out it's fake?"

Lucas looked her dead in the eye. "He won't."

Mia shook her head. "This is crazy. I don't even know you."

"Which is exactly why this works," he said smoothly. "No emotions. No messy attachment. We both get what we want."

Mia stared at him, her pulse racing. "And after six months?"

"We divorce," he said simply. "Clean break. You get your money. I get my company. Win-win."

It was insane.

It was reckless.

It was everything she'd never do in a million years.

Except...

Her mom's latest hospital bill was over $60,000.

She was months behind on rent.

And there was no one else.

"I need to think," she whispered.

"Take your time," Lucas said. "But not too long. My grandfather's estate lawyer expects to meet my wife at his house in New York-by Sunday."

She swallowed hard. That was three days away.

Lucas buttoned his cuffs and grabbed his watch. "There's breakfast on the terrace. Help yourself."

He walked to the door, paused, and looked back at her with that unreadable gaze. "For what it's worth, you said 'I do' first."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Mia dropped back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, the ring on her finger gleaming in the sunlight.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Three Hours Later

Mia stood in front of the hotel mirror, hair tied back, her face scrubbed clean. She wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans, though she still felt like she was in someone else's skin.

Lucas Kane's wife.

She'd spent the last few hours going through every possibility. Could she back out? Sure. But then she'd be back to scraping together tips, dodging debt collectors, and watching her mother's condition deteriorate.

This was a lifeline.

A dangerous one-but still a lifeline.

She walked out onto the terrace where Lucas sat at a table, sipping espresso and reading his phone like this was just another Tuesday.

He looked up when she approached. "Well?"

Mia took a deep breath.

"I'll do it."

Lucas didn't smile. He simply nodded. "Good. We leave for New York tonight."

Later That Night - Private Jet

Mia sat across from Lucas in a leather seat that probably cost more than her entire life. The plane hummed quietly as it soared through the sky.

She held a glass of water with trembling fingers.

"I want rules," she said finally.

Lucas looked up from his tablet. "Rules?"

"I won't sleep with you."

He arched a brow. "We already did."

"That was before I knew your name."

"Fair enough," he said, leaning back. "No sex. Fine."

"I want to keep my job."

"No one will believe my wife waits tables at a roadside diner."

"I need to feel normal."

Lucas studied her for a moment. "You'll work at one of my companies. Intern. HR can find a place for you."

She nodded. "Fine."

"And in public," he said, voice low, "you're madly in love with me."

Mia choked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't have to be in love. Just look like it."

"Do you even know what that looks like?"

Lucas didn't answer right away.

Then he said quietly, "I know what it doesn't look like."

Mia didn't ask what he meant.

Something told her the answer would hurt more than it helped.