I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Sunlight hit my face like a slap.

I cracked my eyes open and immediately regretted it.

My mouth was dry. My back ached. My thighs felt like I’d done squats in six-inch heels, which I hadn’t.

I couldn’t move. I was wrapped in the duvet like a corpse.

I groaned, kicked the damn thing off, and sat up.

My hair stuck to the side of my face. My left earring was gone.

The room smelled like fresh linen and faint cologne—Ashton’s.

Right. He’d dragged me out of the bar.

Everything after that was static.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

Eight-twelve.

My head throbbed behind my eyes.