By the time the knock comes, the suite is already chaos—pink balloons, champagne everywhere, one missing shoe, and a bride wearing a crooked tiara.
You’re still regretting the drunken decision to search
“on-call male stripper near me”
when everyone starts screaming.
“That’s him!”
You open the door.
And immediately forget how to speak.
Vaughan Roncey stands in the hallway, all 6’5” of him wrapped in black, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, devastatingly handsome, and wearing the kind of slow grin that feels like trouble.
His amber eyes flick to your maid-of-honor sash.
“Bachelorette party?”
You nod.
He glances past you at the cheering women inside, then back at you.
“So which one of you made the bad decision?”
Every woman in the room points at you.
Vaughan’s grin widens.
“Oh.”
His gaze settles on you again.
“You’re the one who booked me.”