Accidentally His Husband.

Soren's Pov

"You're joking."

The words came out flat and clipped, but the silence that followed told me nobody thought it was funny. Not the wedding planner wringing her hands, not the trembling assistant who looked like she might faint. Not even Clara, my sister, who had never been speechless in her life.

"She's gone," the planner whispered, her voice cracking like glass under pressure. "Celeste... she's not coming."

I stared at her. At the pristine chapel lined with white roses, the chandelier dripping with gold, the flashes of cameras waiting outside. At the hundreds of guests dressed in diamonds, pearls, and ambition.

"She wouldn't," I said. It wasn't hope. Celeste Moreau was many things, vain, spoiled, manipulative, but she was not stupid. She wouldn't walk away from the deal of the century.

But my sister's eyes told me otherwise.

"She's not in the hotel nor in the dressing room, not anywhere." Clara's voice softened. "She left, Soren."

A cold, hollow sound filled my ears. Laughter, except it wasn't laughter, it was the sharp crack of my father's voice echoing in memory. "A Knight never loses control. If you can't control it, you don't deserve it."

My hands curled into fists. Around me, the air seemed to collapse, the whispers rising, the weight of humiliation pressing down. This wedding wasn't just about marriage. It was a merger, it was the board, it was everything I had worked for, standing on the edge of ruin and Celeste had just walked away.

I turned on my heel. My sister called my name, but I didn't stop. The room, the flowers, the whispers were all suffocating. The walls closed in and all I could hear was my father's voice, cold and merciless.

Failure.

The hotel bar was too bright and loud. Crystal glasses clinked, strangers laughed, music pulsed through the air. I welcomed it. Noise was better than silence.

"Whiskey. Neat."

The bartender's hand hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before he nodded. They had seen the news already. Good, let them.

The first glass burned down my throat. So did the second. By the third, the burn was gone. Only numbness remained.

I should have been thinking of solutions, controlling the narrative, and calling the press. Find Celeste. But for the first time in years, I didn't care.

All I could see was the smirk on my father's face when he found out.

By the time I stumbled out into the night, Vegas lights blurred into a haze of gold and red. Laughter spilled from the casinos. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care.

Until I pushed open a door and found myself inside a chapel.

"Stop!"

The shout hit me first, sharp and exasperated. Then a man came into focus, messy dark hair, sharp brown eyes that glittered even under the cheap lights, and a posture that screamed both defiance and exhaustion. He wasn't in a suit like the rest of Vegas' wedding victims. He wore a faded jacket and jeans, his shoes scuffed, his jaw tense.

"You can't do this!" he barked, glaring at the couple standing at the altar.

The bride, a girl barely twenty, clutched the arm of her equally terrified groom. The priest looked lost.

"This is a mistake," the man continued, running a hand through his hair. "You don't love each other. You don't even know each other. This is Vegas. You'll regret it in the morning."

The bride sniffled. The groom frowned. The man sighed, muttering under his breath about "idiots throwing their lives away."

And for some reason, maybe the whiskey, maybe the ache in my chest,I laughed.

The sound made him snap his head toward me. His eyes locked on mine.

"What the hell is so funny?"

I leaned against the pew, lips curling. "You, lecturing them about mistakes, in a Vegas chapel. That's funny."

His brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"Marriage is always a mistake," I said, the words dripping from my tongue like venom. "It's just contracts wrapped in flowers. At least they'll figure it out now instead of twenty years later."

The bride gasped and the groom sputtered. The priest looked scandalized. But the man, the stranger, his jaw tightened, and fire lit in his eyes.

"You don't believe in love," he said flatly.

"Love," I scoffed. "The most expensive illusion ever sold."

His lips parted, then curved into something between disbelief and anger. "You're an ass."

"True." I pushed away from the pew, swaying slightly. "But at least I'm honest."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he laughed, not a polite chuckle, not a cruel smirk, real laughter. It was sharp, warm, and alive.

"You're drunk," he said.

"And you're meddling."

"I'm trying to save them."

"They don't want saving. They want to escape." I tilted my head, meeting his eyes. "We all do."

The room had gone silent, the young couple slipping away, the priest muttering excuses as he followed. Now it was just us. Two strangers in a chapel, standing on the edge of something reckless.

He folded his arms. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

"I know enough," I said.

"Prove it."

Something in his tone, challenge, dare, cut through the haze of alcohol.

"How?"

"Marry me."

The words hung in the air, ridiculous, impossible and yet...

My lips curved. "Why not?"

He blinked. "Wait, what?"

"You wanted to stop them from making a mistake," I said, stepping closer. "So let's make one ourselves."

"You're insane."

"Maybe." I offered my hand. "But so are you, if you think you can stand here and lecture me about love and choices and not follow through."

For a moment, he just stared at me. I expected him to walk away. Instead, his eyes flicked to my hand. His jaw worked and then-slowly, reluctantly-he took it.

The priest reappeared at that exact moment, blinking at us. "You... want to go through with it?"

"Yes," I said.

"No," he said at the same time.

We stared at each other. His hand twitched in mine. His lips parted, a protest on his tongue.

And then he whispered, almost to himself....

"God help me."

Adrian's Pov

"Don't do this, man. You'll regret it."

I grabbed Marco's arm as he stumbled toward the neon-lit chapel doors. His shirt was half unbuttoned, his tie hanging like a dead snake around his neck, and his grin screamed trouble. He was drunk, and not the fun kind.

"Adrian, let me live!" he laughed, shoving me off. "She loves me."

"She's a stripper you met three hours ago," I snapped, yanking him back. "This isn't love. This is Vegas. Big difference."

Marco groaned, tossing his head back at the glowing sign: Forever After Weddings – Open 24 Hours. His glassy eyes softened. "Maybe this is what I need. Something crazy. Something real."

I sighed. I'd heard this tone before, every time he crashed into another bad decision and usually, I cleaned up the mess afterward. But tonight, I was already exhausted.

My mom's medicine was overdue. The bills were stacked higher than my fridge. I had two jobs and no future and instead of sleeping or working, I was babysitting Marco on the worst night possible.

I tightened my grip on his arm. "You don't even know her last name."

Marco smirked. "Neither do half the couples in there. That's the fun."

I wanted to argue more, but that's when the doors to the chapel burst open.

A tall man stormed out, tuxedo jacket undone, tie ripped from his neck. His face was all sharp lines and storm clouds, the kind of man you instantly recognized from magazines or billboards. His hair was dark, slicked back, but strands had fallen loose like he'd torn his hands through it.

He looked expensive, dangerous and broken.

I blinked. Wait, no way.

Soren Knight.

The name slammed into me before my brain caught up. Knight Enterprises. The empire that owned half the skyscrapers in Las Vegas. The heir to billions. The man my mother cursed whenever his company bought out another neighborhood block.

What the hell was he doing here?

His eyes were bloodshot, his steps uneven, like he'd drowned himself in whiskey. Still, even wasted, he radiated control. Like he could crush the whole world under his heel if he wanted.

He stopped at the edge of the curb, ripping at his bowtie like it offended him. "Unbelievable," he muttered, voice low but sharp. "She ran."

I froze.

Marco whispered, "Is that, holy shit, it is. Dude, that's Soren Knight."

I wanted to drag Marco away, but the universe had other plans. Because at that exact moment, Marco lunged forward, almost face-planting into the street.

I caught him, but the sudden shove made me stumble, right into Soren Knight.

His shoulder was solid as stone, and his eyes snapped to mine like daggers.

"Watch where you're going." His voice was gravel, deep and laced with venom.

"Sorry," I muttered quickly, steadying Marco.

But Marco, the idiot that he was, pointed and grinned. "You're Soren Knight! The billionaire whose bride ditched him!"

I swear the entire street went silent.

Soren's jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break. His gaze turned on me again, sharper this time, like maybe I was responsible for Marco's words.

I raised my hands. "He's drunk. Ignore him."

Soren studied me, his eyes flicking over my cheap shirt, the scuffed sneakers, the calloused hands. I could almost hear his judgment: poor, nobody, nothing and maybe I should've backed away. But instead, I stared right back. Because yeah, I was poor. But I wasn't invisible.

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone almost curious now.

"Adrian Vega."

That was it, no title no power. Just me.

He smirked bitterly. "Of course. Vegas." He tilted his head at the chapel. "Seems fitting."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Marriage," he said simply, almost mocking. "You're in Vegas, Vega. Isn't that what people do here?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not me."

"Why not?" His voice challenged me, testing.

I wanted to say because marriage actually means something to me. Because I'd grown up watching my parents fight, then my dad leave, and my mom struggle alone. Because I promised myself I'd only marry for love, not convenience.

But instead, I just muttered, "Because I'm not drunk enough to be stupid."

Something flashed in his eyes, anger, pain, maybe both. He stepped closer, his cologne sharp and expensive, and I realized he was the kind of man who crushed people for sport.

"Maybe stupid is what I need right now," he said softly.

Before I could reply, Marco stumbled between us, laughing. "Yes! That's what I'm saying. We should all just get married! What's the worst that could happen?"

I groaned, dragging him back. "Marco, shut up....."

But Soren's gaze locked on me again, not Marco. Me.

"You," he said, voice cutting through the night like a blade. "Marry me."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He smirked, like he knew exactly how insane it sounded. "You heard me. One night. One mistake. You said you're not drunk enough to be stupid, so let's test that theory."

My heart jumped into my throat. "You're out of your mind."

"Maybe," he admitted. His voice dropped lower, dangerous and raw. "But I need this. Right now. And you're standing here. So what do you say?"

I stared at him, searching for a joke. But there was none. Just cold fury in his eyes, the kind you only get when your whole world collapses.

"No way," I said firmly, shaking my head.

But then Marco cheered, clapping me on the back. "Do it, Adrian! You'll be rich!"

I shoved him off, glaring. "This isn't funny."

Soren's smirk vanished. His expression hardened, turning icy. "You're right. It's not funny. It's necessary."

His words hit heavier than I expected. Like this wasn't about me at all, it was about him proving something, even if it was reckless.

I should've walked away. But something about the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world not afraid of him, made me hesitate.

And then the chapel doors opened again. The officiant popped his head out, smiling. "Another ceremony? We're open all night."

Soren's eyes didn't leave mine. "Well?"

My heart pounded in my chest. I didn't belong in his world. I didn't even belong in this conversation and yet... part of me wanted to see what happened if I said yes.

I swallowed hard. "You're serious?"

His lips curved into a cold smile. "Deadly."

And for the first time that night, I realized just how dangerous one word from me could be.

"Say yes, Adrian," Soren murmured, his voice a dare, his eyes burning into mine.

Soren's Pov

"Do you have the guts to marry me, or are you just another coward?"

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I didn't recognize myself anymore. My head was pounding, my chest hollow, but my voice cut sharp. I wanted him to back down. I wanted him to walk away like everyone else did.

But Adrian Vega didn't move.

His eyes burned into mine, not with fear, not with greed, but with something worse, hesitation. As if he was weighing the cost, as if my life wasn't already wreckage.

The chapel lights flickered above us. The officiant, an old man with thinning hair and a cheap suit, leaned against the doorframe. He grinned like he'd seen this scene a thousand times before. "Well, gentlemen? We're open all night."

I turned back to Adrian. His friend Marco was practically falling over himself, laughing and cheering. "Do it, Adrian! Come on! You'll thank me later!"

Adrian hissed at him to shut up. Then his gaze locked on me again.

"You're serious," he whispered.

I took a step closer, ignoring the sway in my head from too much whiskey. "Deadly."

For a moment, I thought he'd walk away. But then something shifted in his face. stubbornness. A fire, The kind I knew too well because it lived in me.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's do it."

The officiant clapped his hands. "Wonderful! Right this way."

I didn't think. I just followed, dragging Adrian with me.

The chapel smelled like roses dipped in cheap perfume. The carpet was worn, the walls lined with fake flowers. A plastic arch stood at the front, draped in fairy lights. It was pathetic, a joke compared to the empire I'd been raised in.

And maybe that was why I stayed. Because everything I knew, everything I was supposed to be, was already in flames. What was one more match?

Adrian shifted beside me, muttering under his breath. "This is insane."

"Back out, then," I said coldly, fixing my cufflinks even though I'd already ripped my jacket half open.

He shot me a glare. "Don't tempt me."

The officiant cleared his throat. "Stand here, please." He pointed at the altar.

I stood tall, as I'd been taught since childhood. Adrian fidgeted, his sneakers squeaking against the floor. We were polar opposites, side by side, under fake roses.

"Do you have rings?" the officiant asked cheerfully.

I almost laughed. "No."

Adrian shrugged. "Got a coin?"

We both dug through our pockets until Adrian pulled out a bent silver band keychain. He slipped the ring off and handed it over.

"Perfect," the officiant said, like this was normal.

My throat tightened. This wasn't normal. This was chaos. But I let it happen.

The officiant began his lines, voice monotone, eyes half-asleep. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight..."

My mind blurred. I saw flashes of Celeste's cold smile as she walked out of the ballroom earlier. My father's fury burned into my skull. The reporters snapped photos. The whispers: The Knight heir abandoned, weak. A failure.

And now here I am. Standing beside a broke stranger who smelled faintly of soap and smoke.

"Do you, Soren Knight, take Adrian Vega.."

"Yes." My voice cut through before he even finished.

Adrian's head whipped toward me, eyes wide. "You could at least wait," he hissed.

The officiant chuckled nervously and turned. "Do you, Adrian Vega, take Soren Knight..."

There was silence. Adrian's jaw clenched. His eyes darted to Marco, who was swaying in the back pew, waving his arms like an idiot. Then his gaze met mine.

"Yes," he said finally.

The officiant smiled. "By the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada, I now pronounce you..."

I didn't wait. I grabbed Adrian by the back of the neck and kissed him.

It wasn't soft, wasn't romantic. It was a punishment.

His lips parted in shock, but instead of pulling away, he shoved back, kissing me with sharp anger. For a moment, heat flared, drowning the fury. His grip on my shirt tightened, and mine dug into his jaw.

The officiant clapped. Marco cheered. The world blurred and then it was done.

We broke apart, both breathless, both glaring.

"There you have it," the officiant said brightly. "Husband and husband."

The words hung heavy.

I turned away first, fixing my jacket with stiff fingers. Adrian's chest was rising fast, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Happy now?" he muttered.

I didn't answer. Because I wasn't. I wasn't happy. I wasn't anything but raw, hollow rage.

"Come on," I said, marching toward the door.

Adrian blinked. "Where are we going?"

"To deal with the fallout."

Because I already knew. The paparazzi, investors. My father.

This wasn't going to stay in Vegas.

When we stepped outside, the night air slapped me. Bright flashes exploded instantly, blinding. Reporters swarmed, shouting my name, cameras flashing.

"Mr. Knight! Who's your husband?"

"Why did Celeste leave?"

"Is this your revenge?"

Adrian froze beside me, eyes wide. "What the hell..."

I grabbed his hand without thinking, locking us together as the crowd pressed closer. "Smile."

He turned to me, panicked. "What?"

"Smile," I repeated, through clenched teeth. "If we don't, they'll eat us alive."

Flashes went off again, brighter, faster. Our joined hands, his face, my suit.

Adrian swallowed, then forced the weakest smile I'd ever seen.

It was enough. The reporters roared louder, the questions came out sharper.

I squeezed his hand tighter. My lips barely moved as I leaned toward him, whispering into his ear so only he could hear.

"You're in my world now, Vega and trust me, there's no way out."