Accidentally Married to a Billionaire

Sienna's POV

I felt the sunlight against my eyelids. It was harsh, the kind that demanded you wake up no matter how desperately you wanted to keep sleeping. My head throbbed, my throat felt like sandpaper, and my body protested every movement.

Ugh. Never again.

I promised myself internally as my hands felt the mattress underneath me and my brows furrowed in confusion.

This isn't my bed.

My bed-well, my temporary bed-is in the tiny Airbnb apartment I rented for my week-long Miami escape/vacation. The apartment is small, cozy, and is facing a narrow street that smells faintly of sea salt and coconut oil. Definitely not this place. Because this bed is huge, soft, and smells kinda like luxury detergent.

I cracked one eye open and looked at the bed underneath me. The sheets are the kind of white you only see in magazines, and the pillow under my head felt like it was personally crafted by angels. I opened my other eye and gradually scanned the room.

Oh no.

This room is breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one side, framing the endless sweep of the Atlantic. The early morning sunlight danced across polished marble floors, and the air hummed quietly with the faint sound of waves below. There was a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon on the polished table beside a single crystal glass. A suit jacket hung carelessly over the back of a chair, and an expensive-looking watch glimmered near the minibar.

This definitely isn't my rented apartment.

I sat up slowly, blinking at the lavish chaos around me. "Where am I?" I mumbled, my voice hoarse.

Memories of yesterday were scattered in my head like puzzle pieces but I can clearly remember the café near Ocean Drive where I accidentally spilled coffee on a handsome young man with a British accent, and a charming dimpled smile. I think I had too many drinks after that.

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. "Sienna, what did you do?"

As if in response to my question, I felt movement beside me and froze.

Please be a cat.

I turned my head.

It's not a cat.

It's a man. A very shirtless, sleeping man, sprawled beside me on the bed. And not just any man, it's the man from the café. The hot British stranger.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, scrambling backward so fast I nearly fell off the bed but my foot got tangled in the sheets, and I tumbled onto the floor with a very ungraceful thud.

The man stirred, groaning softly. "Bloody hell..."

I peeked over the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket like a weapon. "Why are you in my bed?"

He blinked at me, confusion crossing his face before amusement crept in. His voice was low and husky with sleep. "Your bed? I think you've got that backward, love. This is my hotel suite."

"Your... what?" I looked around again, taking in the gold accents, panoramic view, and sleek decor. Okay, that explains a lot.

I'm in his hotel room.

Fantastic.

I clutched the blanket tighter. "Wait-how did I even get here? What happened last night?"

He sat up, rubbing his temples, his blonde hair falling into soft disarray. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"Great," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

There was a long, awkward pause before he spoke again. "You don't remember?"

"Bits and pieces," I admitted. "I remember spilling coffee on you, you forgiving me way too quickly, and then we went to get drinks. And also something about-what was it? Roulette?"

He smirked faintly. "We were on quite the streak."

"I can't really remember the details."

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the headboard, the morning light outlined the edges of his jaw. "You've got quite the arm, by the way. I think you nearly took out the bartender when you tried to high-five me."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Kill me now."

"I'm afraid that might complicate things further," he said dryly.

I looked up to find him smiling, that same disarmingly charming grin I vaguely remember from last night. He dragged his hand through his hair and I saw a simple silver wedding ring.

My eyes widened. "You're married?"

His brows knit in confusion as he followed my gaze. "What? No."

"Then why-" I pointed at his finger accusingly.

He looked down, squinting at his hand, and froze. For a moment, his expression was blank. Then it shifted into realization. "Oh, bloody hell."

"What?" I demanded, my voice rising.

He hesitated. "I think we... might have... gotten these together last night."

I blinked. "Gotten what?"

"The rings."

I paused for a moment. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was. You have the same ring." He said, looking at my left hand.

I followed his gaze and surely, there was a similar silver ring on my ring finger. "How did we get these?" I asked him with furrowed brows.

He gave a weak laugh, though his eyes were wary. "You don't remember? The casino? The wedding exhibit?"

I stared at him like he'd just told me we adopted a penguin. "The what now?"

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair again. "There was this event-a wedding thing happening at the casino. You said it looked fun, and somehow we ended up participating."

The moment he said "wedding thing", pieces started sliding into place, although they were a bit blurred and disjointed. I remember neon lights, and a bouquet of fake roses. Me, laughing so hard my sides hurt as we stood to 'say our vows.'

Oh no.

"Oh my God," I whispered, pressing a hand to my mouth. "Did we get married last night?"

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Seems that way. A fake wedding"

For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Then, laughter erupted from my chest.

"This is insane," I said between laughs. "We fake married each other. That's ridiculous."

His own deep laughter joined mine. "Utterly ridiculous."

Our laughter filled the room, the craziness of what we did felt too much to contain. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting our laughter fest.

Still smiling, I reached for it but paused when I saw a piece of paper lying beside it. It was cream-colored with an embossed gold seal.

Curious, I picked it up and read the contents.

State of Florida – Marriage Certificate

This certifies that Eric Alexander Macmillan and Sienna Marie Jones were lawfully joined in marriage...

I blinked, my smile fading instantly.

"Please tell me this is another joke." I whispered, my throat suddenly became dry.

He frowned, leaning forward. "What's that?"

I handed him the paper, my fingers trembling slightly. I watched as he read it and his face went pale.

"Bloody hell," he muttered again, this time with panic.

I pointed to the bottom of the page. "Look! That's my signature. And I'm guessing the one next to it is yours."

He rubbed his forehead, disbelief written all over him. "But it wasn't supposed to be real. The officiant said-well, I thought he said-it was just for fun!"

"Well, apparently it wasn't!" I shot back.

The room fell silent.

I sank onto the edge of the bed as disbelief swirled in my chest.

"So, let me get this straight," I said, looking up at him. "We met yesterday, got drunk, and accidentally got legally married at a casino?"

He exhaled, leaning back against the headboard. "I think we did."

"Oh my god!"

Sienna's POV

24 HOURS AGO...

I stretched under the thin blanket, blinking against the Miami sunlight that filtered through the curtains. I arrived in Miami 2 days ago to get away from everything back home in New York. I just needed some time to clear my head and a week-long vacation in Miami seemed like the perfect way to do that. At least Jason and Brenda were states away.

Jason.

My stomach clenched just thinking about him.

I gave that man four years of my life and he handed it off to Brenda, my supposed friend and colleague. Someone I cooked with, laughed with, and spent countless late-night shifts making menu plans with.

That moment when I walked in on the two of them in Jason's apartment felt like I was in some tragic cliché from a bad TV show.

So yeah, I desperately need this break.

I pushed myself out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and told my reflection:

"It's time to relax and forget. Let's explore this city."

*****

The sun was warm on my shoulders when I locked the apartment door and headed down the street. I had mapped out a tour plan the night before, but honestly? All I need right now is caffeine.

I found a small coffee shop near Ocean Drive-a cute little place with palm trees painted on the windows and wooden tables painted with pastel blues and greens. I pushed open the door, inhaling that perfect blend of coffee and vanilla syrup. The barista took my order-a caramel latte with extra foam-and I waited, bouncing slightly on my toes.

When my drink was ready, I grabbed it with a 'thank you' and a smile then I turned around to leave only to bump right into someone's solid chest. And my latte-my beautiful, much-needed latte-splashed all over a man wearing a perfectly fitted navy-blue shirt.

"Oh my God!" I squeaked.

The man looked down at himself, surprised but not angry. When he lifted his gaze to mine, I was mesmerized.

Holy Crap. He's handsome.

Annoyingly, unfairly, unfair-to-humanity handsome.

He's tall with golden blond hair, slightly messy like he just ran his fingers through it. His eyes are a striking shade of blue-like the Miami coastline, but deeper. And his jawline looked like something carved straight out of a modeling magazine.

"I am so sorry!" I babbled, grabbing napkins from the counter and tried to blot his chest. Immediately I realized I was blotting his chest, I dropped the napkins like they burned me. "I-your shirt-oh god. Let me pay for the dry cleaning! Or the whole shirt! I swear I didn't mean to-"

He lifted one hand, stopping my meltdown in its tracks.

"It's alright," he said in a British accent. "I promise. It's just a shirt."

"I'm really-"

"-sorry, yes, I gathered." He smiled, a single dimple appeared on his left cheek. "And I appreciate it. Truly."

My cheeks burned. "I swear I'm not usually this clumsy."

"I don't believe that for a second," he teased, amusement shining in his eyes.

He offered a hand. "I'm Eric."

"Sienna," I replied, taking it.

I'd planned to run away after humiliating myself, but Eric asked if I'd like to join him while we waited for his coffee and my replacement latte.

"It's the least you can do for nearly scalding me alive," he said with a perfectly straight face.

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "You're not even burned."

"You don't know that."

"You're ridiculous."

"So I've been told."

And somehow... I stayed.

We ended up talking. He told me he was visiting Miami for a few weeks, taking a break from "family responsibilities." I told him I came here to also take a break from work, that wasn't entirely a lie.

We left the coffee shop, walking along the sidewalk with our coffees in hand. And somewhere between our laughter and the sunlight, I secretly admired him. But I had to immediately remind myself that it was a bad idea. Men have taken enough from me in the past. Still...He's handsome, funny, and really gentle with his words. But then again, Jason was that way when we first met in college but see how things ended.

"Where to next?" he asked after we'd walked for a bit.

"The beach?"

"The art walk?"

"The aquarium?"

"Well, I planned to take a tour today. Maybe visit some cool places. I also wanted to see a casino..."

He brightened. "A casino sounds fun."

I blinked. "Wait... you want to come with me?"

He shrugged, casual as ever. "I've got nothing planned. And you seem much more interesting than sitting alone in my hotel room."

I stared at him. "You barely know me."

He smiled lightly. "So far, I know you make excellent conversation, have terrible aim with coffee cups, and look way more beautiful when you're smiling."

I swear my heart melted a little but I just shrugged it off and shook my head.

Before I could argue, he hailed a cab and suggested that we go to a bar first because apparently, we need more alcohol before entering a building full of bright lights and bad decisions.

*****

The bar was a cozy spot with vintage posters, dim lights, and maybe the world's best mojitos. We ordered drinks and talked like we've known each other for years. He told me about how it was growing up in London. I told him about growing up in New York.

We bonded over our mutual hatred for people who clap when planes land. We talked about food, travel, life, and bad haircut decisions. And somehow, I found myself telling him about Jason and Brenda. His quiet, understanding expression made it hurt less.

"It's his loss," he simply said.

After three mojitos and two shots, my brain was doing cartwheels and I decided it was a good time to visit the casino.

Eric agreed.

*****

The casino was loud and chaotic. We stumbled inside, laughing at nothing. We decided to get the casino experience where we lost some money, won some money and high-fived until I almost smacked a bartender in the face.

In a little corner, I saw a wedding exhibit with a cheesy sign that said: "Say 'I Do' for a Day!" I pointed it to Eric who groaned as I grinned. "We should do it," I said confidently. "Just for fun."

"You really think this is a good idea?" he asked, clearly entertained.

"It's a fun idea."

"Fair enough."

We approached the officiant who told us how it works and went ahead to grab fake rings, repeat fake vows and pose for photos.

Afterwards, a man in a nice suit approached us and asked if we wanted to sign the marriage certificate. We both looked at each other and said sure. It's fake anyway. Eric signed first then I signed, scribbling down what I felt was my signature. Man, I'm really wasted.

We finally stepped out of the casino with the " fake certificate" in my hands. Eric's arms were wrapped around me as I leaned heavily on him, barely able to stand.

"Are you alright?," he asked.

I think I whispered something like "I like your eyebrows."

And that was the last thing I remember before the darkness consumed me.

THE PRESENT...

I stood beside Eric in the elevator as we descended to the hotel lobby. My mind was in a blur, everything that has happened in the last 24 hours still feels like a dream.

Eric pressed the button for the ground floor, glanced at me, and offered what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. "We'll sort this out. We'll just go back to the casino and find the man who married us."

Married us.

Hearing it out loud made me want to bury myself alive. I swallowed hard and nodded. "Right. The man in the suit. He'll fix it. It's his fault for not telling us it was real anyway."

We got a cab to the casino - neither of us said much. Eric kept glancing at me, like he wasn't sure if I was going to cry, faint, or leap out of the moving vehicle. Honestly? I wasn't sure either.

We finally arrived, the casino looked the same way I remember it last night.

I inhaled sharply. "Okay. Let's just find him."

We pushed through the bustling entrance, walking past the blinking slot machines, roulette tables, and the bar where I nearly assaulted a bartender with my hand.

We finally found the corner where the wedding exhibit was set up. But everything was gone.

My heart dropped. "N-no... no, no, no. Where is everything?"

Eric frowned, scanning the room. "There was definitely something here yesterday."

"Obviously," I snapped. "I didn't hallucinate an entire wedding! We have a marriage certificate as proof."

We asked a dealer nearby about the wedding exhibit. He shrugged and said, "Oh, that was just a one-night promotional event. They packed up early this morning."

I stared at him. "Do you know who the man running it was? The one giving out certificates?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, miss. They bring in people just for the event. It could be anyone."

I felt my stomach twisting into knots.

Eric gently touched my elbow. "Let's check the front desk. Maybe they know something."

We practically jogged across the casino floor, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. The front desk clerk smiled politely as we explained the situation - though I skipped the part where Eric and I were drunk idiots.

"Oh," the clerk said after typing into her computer, "yes, the registrar was from the Miami County Clerk's Office. They held a special 'Pop-Up Marriage Experience' last night."

Registrar.

County Clerk's Office.

My heart sank all the way into my stomach, I suddenly became dizzy as I realized the weight of our situation. This wasn't something we could undo in ten minutes.

My Miami vacation - the trip that was supposed to clear my head - has somehow turned into a legally binding disaster.

Eric's POV

"Breathe," I said, trying to sound calm even though my own mind was racing. "We'll fix this."

Sienna was muttering to herself-something about needing to call her lawyer, and maybe a priest. I can't tell which will come first.

She stopped and turned to face me, her brown eyes wide and frazzled. "Fix this? Eric, we are legally married. This-" she waved the paper in her hand like it was a live grenade, "-isn't something you can just 'fix.'" Her voice cracked a little at the end.

"Look," I said gently, "we'll go to the county clerk's office, explain what happened, and file for an annulment. I'm sure people do it all the time."

Her brows furrowed. "Do they? People accidentally marry strangers all the time?"

"Probably not all the time," I admitted, "but often enough that I'm sure they've got a form for it."

That earned me a small glare but at least she didn't look like she was about to faint anymore, so I considered that progress.

We stepped out of the casino into the Miami sunlight. The heat hit us instantly. Sienna shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting at the bustling street ahead. Her dark brown hair glowed in the sunlight, glinting with hints of bronze, and I found myself staring before I quickly looked away.

If someone had told me a week ago that I'd fly to Miami for a quiet holiday and end up accidentally marrying a woman I met after she spilled coffee on me, I'd have laughed them straight out of the room.

But here we are.

All I wanted was a break from my family's responsibilities - the suffocating expectations that came with being Eric Macmillan, heir to Macmillan Holdings.

My father, Richard Macmillan, is the kind of man who cares more about net profit and handshakes with the royal family than anything else. But his recent arrangement is one that I'm not consenting to no matter the consequences.

I hailed a cab, and we slid into the backseat. She sat stiffly beside me, clutching the marriage certificate like she might shred it with her bare hands at any moment.

"I can't believe this is happening," she murmured.

"Neither can I," I said, staring out the window. "I was hoping my biggest crisis this week would be deciding whether to order room service or actually leave the hotel."

She glanced at me then, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. "Yeah, well, congratulations. You've officially outdone yourself."

I chuckled softly. "That's one way to put it."

The ride to the clerk's office was quiet after that.

When we finally arrived at the county clerk's office, Sienna was out of the car before I even paid the driver. The building was overly air-conditioned, with beige walls and a queue that stretched to the door. The faint hum of printers filled the air, along with the occasional sound of a keyboard clicking.

Sienna marched straight to the counter, where a woman with glasses sat typing.

"Hi," she began, with a polite tone. "We, um... need to talk to someone about undoing a marriage?"

The clerk looked up, unimpressed. "Undoing?"

"Annulment," I offered.

Her eyes shifted between us, taking in our slightly disheveled appearances and the fact that Sienna was still holding the certificate like it was radioactive. "Do you have your marriage certificate?"

Sienna thrust it forward. "Right here."

The woman adjusted her glasses and looked at the document, then at us again. "You got married at the pop-up event last night?"

"Yes," we said in unison.

"But, we didn't realize what we were signing. It was a misunderstanding. We'd like to annul it as soon as possible." I said.

She looked at me over the rim of her glasses. "Are both of you U.S. citizens?"

"No. I'm British." I said.

Her brows lifted slightly. "Ah. That complicates things."

"Complicates how?" Sienna asked.

The clerk sighed, "Florida law allows annulments under certain conditions-fraud, coercion, mental incapacity, that sort of thing. But you can't just walk in the next morning and undo it like a refund. And since one of you isn't a U.S. citizen, you'll likely have to go through international marriage verification before you can even file for annulment. It could take weeks."

"Weeks?" Sienna echoed, her voice pitching upward. "I'm supposed to go back to New York in five days!"

The woman gave an apologetic shrug. "You'll need to contact an attorney for the proper filing process. There's a legal waiting period."

Sienna pressed a hand to her forehead and exhaled shakily. "This is not happening."

I leaned on the counter, trying to keep my tone calm. "There must be something we can do."

"Short of proving fraud or mental incompetence, not really," the clerk said. She slid the paper back towards us with a faint smile. "Well then, congratulations to you both-"

Sienna's glare could've cut glass. The woman froze mid-sentence, her polite smile faltering as she cleared her throat. "Or, uh... good luck with getting your annulment."

Sienna snatched the certificate, shoving it into her bag like it was a venomous snake. "Thanks," she muttered, turning to the door before I could say another word.

We stepped out of the county clerk's office, and the Miami heat wrapped around us again like a thick blanket. Sienna let out a long exhale that sounded more like defeat than anything else. We only made it a few steps before her stomach let out a loud, unmistakable rumble.

I tried so hard not to smile.

Sienna glared at me. "Don't," she warned.

"I wasn't going to say anything," I said, keeping my expression as serious as I could manage. "But to be fair, we haven't eaten anything all morning. We went straight from discovering we're married to chasing down a government official. That's a lot to do on an empty stomach."

She sighed, deflating a little. "I'm not really hungry, I'm just overwhelmed."

Right on cue, her stomach rumbled again. Much louder this time.

I raised an eyebrow. "Your stomach disagrees."

A reluctant, tiny smile flickered at the corner of her lips. "Fine. Maybe I'm a little hungry."

"Come on," I said, gently touching her elbow as we started walking. "Let's get some breakfast. It'll be easier to think once you've eaten. And then we can start looking for an attorney."

She nodded, pulling her bag closer to her side. "Okay. Food might help."

We walked toward the sidewalk, heading in the direction of a café I saw earlier. The sun was sharp, cars zipped past, and somewhere down the street a man was aggressively selling sunglasses to anyone with a pulse.

Sienna's phone started buzzing rapidly inside her bag.

"Of course," she muttered, stopping abruptly. "Because this is obviously the perfect time for a phone call."

She rummaged through her bag with frustrated hands, pulling the phone free and glancing at the screen. Her expression changed immediately, whatever color that remained in her face drained.

Her lips parted slightly, and she just stared at the screen, frozen.

I frowned. "Sienna?"

She didn't respond. Her eyes flickered back and forth across her phone screen.

"What is it?" I asked again, stepping closer.

She finally looked up at me, her eyes wide.

"We're screwed," she whispered. "Completely, and utterly fucked."