Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

The kind of man who puts my needs above his own.

But this is just pretend for Sebastian. In reality, he’s selfish. I don’t even know if he made me come last night.

I grab his hand forcefully, letting him know I won’t deal with his crap.

“Want to make a bet?” I ask.

He grins. “My sweet Millie, I never thought you’d gamble on something as dirty as this.”

“We are in Vegas,” I say.

“I bet that you will be begging to be back in my bed by the end of our time together.”

“And when I resist?”

“I’ll get down on my knees and worship your body at your feet. I’m a king; I never kneel.” He winks at me.

We both exit the room and enter the elevator to take us to brunch. Please, don’t get stuck.

I look at Sebastian watching the elevator with the same trepidation.

When the doors open on the bottom floor, we both let out a breath. But I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed. Being stuck on the elevator sounds better than dealing with this brunch.

“I resist, you become my servant for one day, Mr. King.”

“Deal,” he says.

“What about you? What do you get if I give in and beg for you?”

He smirks as he steps between the open doors.

“You—I get you.”

9

Sebastian

“Congratulations!” The room breaks out in one big cheer as Millie and I step into the room of the restaurant that has been reserved for us. It was supposed to be Oaklee and Boden’s send-off brunch before their honeymoon with the wedding party and a few other special guests, but it appears the news has spread that Millie and I got married instead.

Millie freezes in shock as she stares at all our friends hooping and hollering for us.

I’m just as shocked as she is, even though we both should have known this is what was going to go down. There was no hope that news like this hadn’t spread. For all we know, they were all at our wedding.

I go through the options in my head of surviving this.

One—say we were drunk and did it for fun to distract everyone and that we are getting it annulled immediately.

Two—deny, deny, deny. No one has proof that we are married. We don’t have a marriage license. No one can prove shit.

Three—it was a one-night stand turned insta-love. We fell hard and instantly and just had to get married immediately.

I look at Millie, whose cheeks are redder than I’ve ever seen them as people start throwing questions our way.

Option one is the most honest, but also embarrassing and reckless.

Option two isn’t feasible. Everyone already thinks we are married.

And option three isn’t believable.