Page 3 of Shameless in Vegas

My jaw opens and closes a few times as I attempt to put together a coherent sentence. “So, you… uh… y’know, remember everything from last night?”

She blinks again, her elegant, black eyebrows lifting. “Of course. Don’t you?”

Now my jaw is just hanging open, and my mouth is as dry as a new sponge, fresh out of the package. “I… uh…”

Her brows draw together as her full lips form a perfect circle. “You don’t?”

“I mean… I…” I gesture at the champagne bottles. “I think I probably dranka lot.”

Her eyes start shifting all over the place, instantly covered with a sheen of tears, and the tip of her nose turns pink. “Dios mio,”she whispers, dropping her phone and clutching the sheet way up to her face as she hides behind it.

“Natalia, I…” I start to say, but the rest of my words are cut off by the sound of a quiet sob.

“¿Por qué soy tan estúpida?” she mumbles almost too quiet for me to hear.

How could I be so stupid?

She’scrying.

And now I just feel like a dick.

“Natalia,” I say gently, setting the papers back on the dresser and approaching her. “You’re not stupid. I think I just—”

“Of course I’mstupid,” she blubbers, still hiding from me. “Amagnificentman approaches me in acasino, sweeps me off my feet, and tells me he believes I’m his soulmate after only three hours of conversation? That he wants to save me from myhorriblelife and take care of me? That he wants to get me out of this hellish town once and for all? That he wants tomarry me?” A louder sob explodes out of her. “Of courseI’m stupid! Things like that don’t happen in real life!”

Thatis a hell of a lot to process, but I don’t have time to because she’s leaping out of the bed and fishing through the piles of clothes. The tears are now spilling down her cheeks, and this is a big mistake and misunderstanding, but I amnotan asshole. I can’t just let her run away like it looks like she’s about to.

I catch her wrist just as she stands upright with her hands full of clothes. “Hang on,querida,” I say gently, drawing her to me, and she stiffens in my arms. “Don’t run off, especially not all upset like that. We’ll figure all of this out, and it’ll be okay.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, Joaquin!” she snaps. “You didn’t mean anything you said yesterday. You don’t care about everything I told you, you don’t want to help me, because you don’t evenrememberany of it!”

“Okay… okay… okay.” I keep a firm hold on her arms. “No, I don’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.” I shrug. “I mean, if you told me all of this stuff last night and I cared enough to… you know…” I gulp. “Marry you… I’m sure if you explained it all again, I’ll still care, and then I can probably figure out how to help you. Right?”

Natalia’s bottom lip trembles violently, and she sobs again before dropping her head low, shoulders convulsing.

You know… I havethreesisters. All of whom I am insanely protective of—evident from eight months ago when I literallykilledthreemafiososwho came after my older sister, Isla. I do not have any regret over it either. Not even after Papá received a threat that the cartel our family cut ties with was going to come aftermefor taking out their three top guys.

If you fuck with my sisters, I will fucking kill you. Bottom line. End of story.

Along those same lines, that protective nature for my sisters has a tendency to extend to women in general. Icannothandle when women cry. It just seemswrong. I am admittedly my billionaire father’splayboyson, but all that means is I’ve devoted my entire adult life to making women feel the polar opposite ofsad.

And right now, Natalia, who is apparentlymy wife—Jesus fucking Christ—is sobbing so hard that she’s overcome with hiccups, and it’s my fucking fault.

Based on everything she said moments ago, it’s clear all of it, including the marriage itself, is all my fucking fault. SoIhave to do something to rectify this situation.

So—just fornow—never mind the fucking accidental Vegas marriage. Never mind the heap of shit I’m in for all of this. I’ll deal with all of that later. Right now, I have to make herstop crying.

“Mírame, querida,” I say, opting for what is obviously both our native tongue in an effort to set her at ease. I sweep my hand across her jaw to brush her hair away and hold her cheek.

Natalia reluctantly slides her teary gaze up to meet mine, her pouty bottom lip still quivering, and I kiss it.

“No llores, cariño.”I draw my thumb below her eye to wipe her tears. “Todo está bien.I’m still gonna help you, and we’ll figure all this out.”

Her fluffy, wet, matted lashes do a slow blink. “Promise?”

I have never seen a Latina with eyes in such a shade of blue. If I were at all poetic, I would compare them to storm clouds or some shit. I’ve never seen eyes so big, and so clear, and so captivating. Knowing me, it’s one hundred percent obvious why I did all the stupid shit I did last night. This woman is the most stunning creature I have ever seen. Beyond that, I’ve also never seen eyes so full of tears other than eight months ago. In that moment of chaos after a firefight when Isla wept over Malachi as his heart went silent for three minutes before paramedics managed to bring him back.

And I have no idea what I drunkenly signed up for last night, but the similarity of Natalia’s eyes and those of my sister is enough to arrest me, and I can’t just chalk this marriage up to a mistake and go file the paperwork to erase it. I’ll obviously have to undo it at some point, but before I do that, I need to get the rundown on what exactly she’s going through that I apparently promised to save her from, and figure out how to help her in a way that doesn’t involve staying married.

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