Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

“Oh.” I frown. That’s random. I turn back and see one of the men following us down the corridor. “He’s following us,” I whisper.

He smirks as he kisses my hand and keeps walking. “Relax. Ignore him.”

I frown as my eyes flash to the man behind us. “Oh, okay.”

We get to the elevator and I have to take out my key card to see where my room is again.

“We’ll be fine,” he tells the security guy before we enter the elevator. The guy nods and stays where he is.

We get into the crowded elevator and stand at the front. I smirk up at him as he holds my hand.

“I can’t believe you are ditching me on our first day of marriage,” he says loudly so everyone can hear.

My eyes widen in shock. What is he doing?

“So you just used me and abused me all night, is that it?” he asks in an exaggerated voice. I hear a lady behind us gasp in shock while the other people pretend not to listen.

I smirk. Bastard! Two can play this game. “Yeah, well, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. And you were totally shit in bed, by the way,” I reply dryly.

“What about our kids?” he asks, acting off ended.

I drop my head to hide my smile. Oh, this guy is something else. “Your kids are bastards. One of your other wives can bring them up. I’ve had enough. I’m going back to prostitution.”

“Just don’t give anyone anal. You know that asshole is mine.” He scowls, acting serious.

I widen my eyes at him. He did not just say that out loud.

“Oh my God,” the lady behind us whispers.

“Shh,” her husband hisses.

He drops his head to stop himself from laughing, and he squeezes my hand in his. I squeeze it back as I bite my bottom lip.

The elevator doors open and he walks out, striding down the hall toward my room. “What number?”

“Three Two Two.” I smirk.

We continue walking until we get to my room and I turn toward him.

“This is your room?”

“Yep.” I smile. Oh, I don’t want to go in. I want to stay with him another night.

He takes out his phone. “Can I have your number?”

I raise a brow. “Why?”

“So I can sell it to the highest bidder. Why do you think?” he replies dryly.

“I live in New York, you know...”

“Yes. I’m coming to New York next weekend.”

“Since when?” I frown.

“Since now.” He smiles as he kisses me. His tongue rims my lips. “Donnez-moi votre numéro avant que je vous traîne retourner dans ma chamber.”

Translation: Give me your number before I drag you back to my room.