Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)
Undeniably Married: Chapter 2

I’ve been keeping a secret for the last year. I have a serious thing for Sorel Fritz. It’s why I was late to the church today, hoping I’d miss the ceremony entirely. The last thing I wanted was to see her marry Brody. I get it. It’s all sorts of complicated. She’s older than me. Cousins of my best friends. One of my closest friends. And until this moment, engaged to my teammate. Well, former teammate now.

But one by one, those complications are starting to fall away. Except for the friend part and the fact that she just ran out on her wedding. That’s a bit of a motherfucker, but not insurmountable. I have no plans to make a move anyway. Not when she just ended things with Brody. It’s too soon for that. But I do plan to make her notice me in a different light than she has before.

Little by little, I’ll make her as crazy about me as I am about her.

Starting with an impromptu trip to Vegas.

I can’t believe she said yes. I thought for sure she’d laugh it off and have me take her to Stella’s or her parents’ place. Sorel isn’t spontaneous.

We race to her apartment, which I know belongs to Brody and not her. He rented the apartment when they moved to Boston a year ago because he didn’t want to buy. He’s been hoping to secure a broadcasting position with a large network, but so far, that hasn’t happened.

Considering he cheated on one of Boston’s princesses, a Fritz, he’ll have to move out of the city for sure.

Sorel used to complain about the apartment. He picked it out without her there, and like a thoughtless, inconsiderate prick, he signed the paperwork for it before she could see it. She hated how it was close to the stadium and far from her work. How it was old, a three-story walk-up with no AC, and they weren’t able to make a lot of the updates she’d want to make. Most of the time, I held my tongue about him. Sometimes I didn’t.

My knuckles crack. I wish she had let me get at least one hit on him.

She stares out the windshield as we approach her building. “Oh my god. I’m crazy. I’m totally losing it, right? I’m Green Day’s ‘Basket Case.’”

That makes me pause for a moment as I try to remember the lyrics. Sorel is huge into alternative ’90s music. Like has a massive CD collection and is always throwing out titles or lyrics to songs. For Christmas, I bought her a shirt that said, The 90s called…they want their music back with a cassette tape titled Sorel’s Mixed Tape. She loved it.

“You’re not crazy, and you’re not a basket case or whatever,” I reassure her. “You’re… well, I’m blanking on relatable 90s hits, but I’m sure we can think of something better later.”

“Because we’re on the clock?”

I nod. “We’re on the clock.”

“Right. Let me move my ass then. At some point, I’m going to have to pack up my stuff and move it out of here,” she muses as we pull up along the curb and I park. “But for now, I’ll be quick. He could show up here at any minute. I already have a suitcase packed for our honeymoon, so I’ll bring that.”

“I’ll stand guard outside and wait,” I offer.

“We’re like Bonnie and Clyde. Outlaws. Fugitives on the run.”

I smirk, not mentioning how Bonnie and Clyde were also lovers. “Hopefully with a better ending than them.”

She smiles, her hazel eyes sparkling at me. “Thank you, Mason. I’m not sure what I would have done if you weren’t in the perfect place at the perfect time.” She races out of the car and upstairs, and I get out too and start to pace. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but there’s no way in hell I’m backing out now. Not unless she does, and then I’ll have to find another way.

I pull up my text stream with my best friends, Vander, Stone, and Owen. Owen and Stone are Sorel’s cousins, so this should be interesting.

Me: I’m doing something crazy, and I need to tell you about it, so you won’t kick my ass later.

Stone: Dude, now is not the time for your shenanigans. Sorel just ran out on her wedding because Brody cheated. Uncle Landon punched him in the face, and then Brody ran out before any of us could get to him. We have no clue where Sorel went, but she’s not picking up her phone.

Me: I’m with Sorel. That’s the crazy thing I need to tell you.

Owen: What? How are you with Sorel?

Me: I ran into her right outside the church, and gave her a ride. And I’m taking her to Vegas.

I continue to pace, my gaze vacillating between watching the street for Brody and my screen.

My phone rings in my hand. Stone. I slide my finger across the screen and answer, but before I can say anything, Stone yells, “Are you insane?!” into my ear.

“I might be,” I admit, only now I’m grinning.

“Asshole, you can’t take Sorel to Vegas.” That’s Owen, and I’m guessing they’re all together somewhere.

“Yes, you can!” a voice that sounds like my cousin, Katy, yells from the background.

“Don’t listen to her,” Stone states firmly. “We’re all at the reception getting drunk since there is no reception, and no one wanted the food or booze to go to waste. We were hoping Sorel would show up here. Serena texted her to come since Brody and his family wouldn’t dare come here. You need to bring Sorel here. She needs her family right now.”

“I’m her friend. She needs those too.”

“Right. Exactly,” Owen agrees. “So act like her friend and bring her here. Where are you anyway?”

“She’s in her apartment, changing out of her wedding gown and grabbing her suitcase. I’m thinking we’ll charter a jet to stay on the DL.”

“How did this happen, Mason, and what the fuck is going on?” Vander questions, though I can hear the amusement in his voice. Vander isn’t related to Sorel, so his stake in this is different from Stone and Owen’s.

“I didn’t drug her or anything. I offered, and she said yes.”

“Sorel did? Sorel said yes to going to Las Vegas with you?” Owen’s skeptical. I was too, so I get it.

“Yep.” I glance around and rub the back of my head. “She’s my instalove,” I say in a low tone. “Do you remember I mentioned that when you told me about how fast you fell for Tinsley, Stone? Well, that’s Sorel for me,” I state not even caring if that makes me sound like a pussy. The second I saw Sorel, my heart went wild in my chest, and my head spun. Then she started talking, and I was done for. Hell, I agreed to be friends with her. Friends! What sane, heterosexual man is friends with a woman they find as attractive as I find Sorel? None. It was that or nothing, and nothing felt like a death sentence. That feeling has only grown over the last year. I tried to get rid of it. I tried to ignore it. I tried not to want her or think about her, but I couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t stop it.

It’s been a hell of a crush or infatuation, or whatever you want to call it, and not in a fun way. Wanting someone I couldn’t have has been agony, but now it’s exactly as she said: I was in the right place at the right time. I mentioned that I had a thing for a woman to Stone last fall. Since then, he’s pressed me a bit, and the other guys know about it too, but I kept my mouth shut on who the woman was for obvious reasons.

“You’re fucking kidding me?!” Stone shouts. “Sorel is your instalove? Bro, she’s a lot older than you.”

“Only seven years. Besides, Owen is a lot older than Estlin, and Bennett is seven years older than Katy. Don’t judge that shit. Age is just a number. Are you saying she’s too good for me and that I don’t deserve my chance with her?”

“No. We’d never say that,” Vander asserts. “If she’s the one you want, you deserve her, but more than that, she deserves you.”

“Thanks, brother. I’m mentally fist-pumping you.” I lean my back against the brick façade of the building and shrug out of my suit jacket, then toss it over my forearm. I’m sweating like a politician.

“I don’t know about this,” Owen states pensively. “This isn’t a small thing.”

“And I’ve been nothing but supportive of you assholes when you were screwing around with your best friend’s little sister, Owen, and when you were screwing around with your brother’s ex, Stone. How about a little reciprocity here? I’m telling you I’ve had a serious thing for Sorel for a year. Think about it. I haven’t touched another woman since I met her.”

“Shit,” Stone hisses, and I hear murmuring in the background. “Fine. Yes. We support you. But you know, she’s our cousin, and if⁠—”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response because you should know me better than that, but it’s not like that between us. At least from her end. She just walked out on her wedding, and I’m her friend. I’m simply taking her away to get her mind off everything, and well, if something happens between us in the process, all the better.”

I rub at my Cheshire grin. I need to get that wily fucker in check.

“Christ, this is going to be messy,” Vander growls in a low voice.

“We’re here for you, Mase!” Katy shouts again. “You get her. She needs a guy like you. Someone young and fun who will pull her out of her shell. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Katy! Love you, babe.” The door to the building opens, and I quickly murmur before Sorel can hear, “I’ve gotta go. Wish me luck.”

I disconnect the call and turn to face her. She’s wearing jeans and a white linen top with some kind of girly frills on it. Her blonde hair is down, swinging around the tops of her shoulders, but she still has a full face of bride makeup.

“Hi,” I say, unable to help myself as I take her in. Damn, she’s pretty.

“Hi. Um, everyone is at the reception venue.”

I nod. “Yeah, I just talked to the guys.” I rub the back of my head as a weird, awkwardness that wasn’t there before looms between us. Fuck. She’s having second thoughts. “Do you want me to take you there?”

She peers at me for a very long minute, visibly mulling this over. “It sounds a bit depressing, right? Going to my wedding reception when the wedding didn’t happen. Plus, everyone will be all over me, checking on me, talking about it, suggesting where I should go and what I should do next. Don’t you think?”

I nod. “Probably.”

“Can you think of anything more depressing than sleeping on your older sister’s couch or even worse, going back home to your parents’ house when you’re thirty-five and have been living on your own since you were eighteen?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

She tilts her head, the sun catching her hazel eyes and accentuating the warm brown in them. “Vegas doesn’t sound like that.”

A smile cracks across my face, and yeah, I do need to work on keeping it in check. “I’ll make sure it’s not.”

She gnaws her lips, but she’s smiling against it. I can see it. “Then let’s go pack you a bag.”